Labels For Everything

I once asked my wife if she was a socialist. She replied:

“Labels belong on my cans, not on my soul.”

I married well but I don’t choose to refute my labels, so it seems fair to preface, in this era of deep polarization of beliefs and values, that I’ve been assigned a few of these labels (among many):

Atheist, socialist, food-snob, fat, bi-polar, transsexual, extrovert, drunkard, and just plain weird.

Am I any of these? I don’t know, I just work here.

Moving on to pleasantries! Good morning, everyone, and thank you for stopping in to visit my digital mouth-flapping corner. It is my hope that this space will be no different than a fire-pit with friends, where the sweet and bitter syrups of my days and yours can be bottled and always over-imbibed.

I’ve called this space Debauchery Bay because while I am capable of moderation, I’m also sure that Oscar Wilde was right when he stated:

Moderation is often fatal. Nothing succeeds like excess.

 

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