Have you ever looked in a mirror and said to your reflection, "Fuck off. Go away. I hate you and I no longer want to have your babies." Have ya?

Nor have I, with that baby thing. Other than that, yes. Of course. Of course I've cursed. My reflection. Who hasn't? Even the prettiest and most-handsome of this 21st-Century lot have looked in a mirror and hated waht they saw.

Bypass physicality. That ain't the point, here. We all have an extra 20 or a bald head or saggy tits or a six-pack from the Devil. What I'm talking about, here, is looking in the mirror, looking into our blue green hazel brown black red opaque eyes and not liking the ESP-mind-fuck that comes back. No one knows one better than one knows onself. And when one looks into a mirro? Unless one is blind, the skeltons in the closet do rule.

So. Whadda we do? Do we AVOID mirrors? Do we spoon our eyes out and walk around blindly? Or do we take in our reflective countance, and thank the Most High and Powerful Heebie-Jeebie for our time on this spinning rock? Short, long or bypassed, we gotta give it up to the Bearded White Man in the Sky.

Every damn day is a gift. Never you forget it, three readers. Every day is a wrapped-in-a-bow gift. Sent to us--however--by THE-most dedicated toy-maker, evah!

Milton Bradley. Yes.

I jest.

The gift of life, the gift of always being behind on bills, the gift of a smooth lover, the gift of chocolate when you're sugar-rushin'...that gift is from God. Other nation-states have the same idea.... There is a Creator, and He (or She) created us.

So. Anyway. Where was I? Okay. Here:

So the next time that you look in the mirror and cat-hiss at the results, just remember: We're all beautiful in God's eyes but six-inxh stilettos seal the deal.

Happy All Saints Day!

Peace be with you.

("And also with you!")