The harsh truth is, most red-haired men look like blondes who've spoiled from lack of refrigeration. They look like brown-haired men who've been composted out behind the barn. Yet that same pigmentation that on a man can resemble leaf mold or junkyard rust, a woman wears like a tiara of rubies.

Should you fail to pilot your own ship, don't be surprised at what inappropriate port you find yourself docked.

It is what it is. You are what you it. There are no mistakes.

Consider the silent repose of the sausage as compared to the aggressiveness of bacon.

As expected, you get his machine. Someday, even the "call of nature" will be answered by a machine.

You've heard of people calling in sick. You may have called in sick a few times yourself. But have you ever thought about calling in well

The theme of corporate stories (and millions drink them in every day) seldom varies: to be happy you must consume, to be special you must conform. Absurd, obviously, yet our identities have become so fragile, so elusive, that we seem content to let advertisers provide us with their version of who we are, to let them recreate us in their image: a cookie-cutter image based on market research, shallow sociology, and insidious lies.