VOICE OF REASON

    Digging through my vault the other day, I came across a rare artifact in one of the file folders.
The long-forgotten cocktail napkin. Wrinkled, and once rum soaked, it served as a parchment for the impending new year. With an amused chuckle I read our make-shift manifesto out-loud:

    I remember the exact moment that came out of Seanbaby’s mouth. The girls has retreated to the bar to buy lemon drops, but most likely talk about cock. So, naturally, the boys remained at the table to talk about - what else? - poontang.
And although, I have no specific memory of what spurred him to say it, it was nothing short of a revelation. Without missing a beat, I grabbed up a pen, handed Sean the napkin, and forced him to write it down for posterity.
    I look at it now, and wonder if we’ve lived up to our lofty goal? Are we less polite now? Have we punched bitches in the face, or grabbed some ass?

/robot