And so the products of the entertainment machine tick on...

Do you realize that while you're pining away trying to decide between Mary Ann or Ginger, there are some other folks in this country that are going to mail you some porn that when you pick up to see if your favorite porn star is pictured... viola... you get some anthrax.

Such a weird world this is.

Are we asleep form the inside out? Or are we just comfortably numbed?

Starting to sound like a pink floyd album now. Must be going.

-FS

I never sweat the small stuff.  If I live in fear, they've already won.  Besides, it's nothing a couple of months of Anti-biotics can't clear up (provided I notice the white powder on my porn mags in time).

Hell, I've had poison oak on my crotch.  Anthrax doesn't scare me. [:D]

Now, where's that porn dammit!