In another 50 years, we'll all be spending our days giving each other hugs, and individual thought and opinion will be frowned upon.

I don't know about you, but I'll be dead long before that. If not, I hope to be shot in the back of the head by a jealous husband while leaping out a second story window with my pants down around my ankles, and his 19-year-old wife screaming "Don't leave me!" We all have our fantasies.

Cheers,

Gary

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Travlin' Easy