Savage Truth

Terry and I got married on Friday the 13th, March of 1964. Today as I type this would be our 44th Anniversary, if we'd been two completely different people who'd gotten hitched that day. WE didn't stand a chance.

Scientists have discovered the gene that determines the shape of tomatoes. I'm not making this up. Is nothing sacred?

Jeesh, now they're saying that one in four American teenage girls has a sexually transmitted disease. As many exciting illicit images as that statistic might conjure in the carnal mind--not yours or mine of course--there is a down side. (A biggie: any one of those diseases might get back to ME! Help!) Total abstinence with teens stands about as much chance as with priests. Monogamous relationships only work if neither partner GETS CAUGHT getting some elsewhere. Condoms are a drag. I guess legal, sanctioned, everybody-gets-tested-first group marriage is the only answer. Certainly it would be easier to remain faithful to the sexual and intellectual variety of a group, a group that could even grow as needed. End of STD problem. (Maybe not. But it would sure be fun giving it a shot.)

In my twenty-two years on the road hitchhiking, I don't think I ever met a normal person, nobody is really the way everybody is expected to pretend they are. Most people feel they have to play a role around their family to protect feelings, at work to save the job, and in their public lives so they're not burned at the stake. But when somebody is heading home from Seattle and pick up a hitchhiker to talk to on the long drive, a person who doesn't know anybody they know, who they'll never see again, it's a rare chance for them to be totally honest. I've heard thousands of confessions and desires and regrets from folks. I'd blown my own cover early on--my parents said I was beyond shocking them, and I took that as a challenge--so I've always been pretty-much free to tell the whole story. It magically nullifies the fear of being discovered. I do understand why so many folks are reluctant to be out front with everything in their lives, but it sure feels better when you just be real. Young people are being warned about posting their true feelings and lives on the Internet, but I figure it'll just free them from a life of bullshit and fear. (Guilt sucks.)

I put in a friend request for Ms. Ashley Alexandra Dupre on MySpace this morning, but I'll bet she's got a million or two ahead of me already. I was so pleased to see that she not only hadn't abandoned her page, but had added pics of The Gov (#9)! Good for her. Instead of a typical lame excuse for what she was doing, she's gonna make lemonade. Reminds me of an actor I heard about. After getting suddenly famous, some people tried to blackmail him with a porn movie he'd been in years before. Instead of paying them off or making excuses, he said, "Hell, give me ten grand and I'll make another one!" Like the picture on the T-shirt: about to be snatched by a swooping eagle, the prairie dog is standing there giving it the finger. My hero.