To blog or not to blog? That is the question I put forth from my steely throne, ensconsed in the warm embrace of velet pajamas, sipping on moonshine and bijou, smoking fat cigars, rolled on the virginal inner-thighs of young cuban women. Take the time to drop a line? Maybe you'll create a rhyme. And he did and he looked upon the rhyme and said "this is good stuff, have you had enough?" "Yes!!Yes yes!!" the thunderous reply echos from the balconies and rooftops of the inner sanctum. "No more suessian taunts from your razor-wheted wit." "Assault not those who have assaulted against you with more diatribes, and contritcities." And he looked down upon the masses huddled naked for warmth and fornication against a cold and cruel world and he agreed. "Yes, it is a glorious day!", then he adding rather curtly "I shall ride at dawn, prepare the women!" And he was gone, never to be heard from again in these parts. Poking around in Cuba, was his last rumoured siting, looking for virgin thighs and truth in advertising. He searches in vain, knowing all the time it is a hopeless quest. We're all pretty much fucked from day one, so who amongst us can put forth such a claim as ludicris as virginity? And yet he searches still.