who dat? contest.

(yo stee. i know
who dat?)

john holmes. deceased porn star with the huge cock.

first correct answer:

chuck always knows the porn stars. slut.

and i forgot to link to our last winner, tamar.

i can't do it. i will.

On Friday I noticed a funny sign in the elevator at work: "If the elevator should stop, do not become alarmed. There is little danger of running out of air. Or of the elevator dropping uncontrollably." Little danger. Oh, good.

But this sign reminds me a bit of love. As does Paxton's line in Twister (which I'm sure I'll butcher), "You can't control it. You can't predict it. It just happens."

Or this line in the Nick Hornsby book I'm reading now, Fever Pitch, "I fell in love with football as I was later to fall in love with women: suddenly, inexplicably, uncritically, giving no thought to the pain or disruption it would bring with it."

We have all been ripped apart by love. And we still come back for more. I look back on my life so far, and most of my transcendent moments, both happy and sad, have come from love.

I can remember walking through the small gold rush town where my family used to vacation, looking up at the stars, holding a photo of this tennis star at my school, and just pining for her, man. Pining. And even earlier, sitting in church with my mom, kneeling when i was supposed to, and praying for one thing: Anna to love me. I must have been 9. For love.

Like that elevator, we walk into it, assuming it's going to keep us safe. Assuming it's going to hold. And yet it might not. We might drop uncontrollably.

And still we come back.

And you know the heart wins, right? Always. The heart can flatten you in a second. The heart can level cities. With no warning. Like an earthquake. Like a tsunami.

But man, isn't that half the fun of it?

The Corin "Corky" Nemec Happy Song Corner

Corky's out looking for love... in all the wrong places.
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