Empty arms will tell on you. If the masterworks in last night's dream could be replicated, man oh man. They showed yo-yoing on this morning's tale and it reminded me of the gold duncan with the 4 glass jewels embedded that I just HAD to have. It's mentioned because that's what got me here. Momma's boy learns about love early and never gives up the assurance he'll find it.

So what's with all the tit pics? The TV's burping, no printer, the fire stick choked but somehow I'm on this weird path that keeps being sold as v a l i d and it seems to begin with making the above image. Ok, the mamm-fetish lingers as time warps these fingers but there really is an extension high above approval. It's like the weird proctologist who got on-board the LGBTQ train and hung-out a shingle stating Homos/Hemorrhoids and got pissed at all the negative feedback so he changed it to Queers & Rears. I've got no gripe with anyone and my mind just goes where it goes in this era of Cancel Culture. My girl stopped visiting here years ago so I post with complete certitude which could be ixnayed in a moment's notice. Pix-lust ain't the same as horndog hankerings, my fine fellow. So go visit Instagram for some pasta fagioli photos if my composites are unnerving.