Hey -- when insignificant pissing matches about the Internet gotcha down, remember what brings us together:
...that decrepit, mung-pile-having house...
...with street signs and rabid coons under the deck...
...Matt "ho-train" Caton passed out and sweating in a recliner...
...Forest of tallboys and beer-filled saucepans...
...Steamy Sirens on the VCR and chappy puking off the porch...
...A _successful_ appearance by two of the finest lesbian strippers...
...Joe talking to the squirrels and bloody elk souffle in the kitchen...
...Phil Gramm's bushes in easy reach, and crazy Spidey-suit neighbor next door...
...Yuppie owners may come and go. Gentrification may take its toll. But that house will never die. And that's probably a bad thing, really.
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