There is a fellow in my distant past, we'll call him The Con. It wasn't his Christian name. I'll not say his real name. I'll only say that, according to the government, the popularity of his name has been declining. Only fifeteen years ago, his name was on the list of the five hundred most popular baby names.
Today, sadly, it's popularity has been eclipsed by more than a thousand other male baby names.
The Con was one existential fellow, really loved the Pink. When he was in the hole, Floyd was sanctuary. One night at the pizza shop, he made a connection with another man on that level.
The gentleman said,"Man, you white boys sure like that Pink Floyd. Well, thats a'ight, because when I was in prison, a lot of the white boys on my level, listened to that music. After awhile, I started to like them a lot. So, I'm just giving you a rough time, bro."
One fine day The Con schooled me on vehicular operations and maintenance. My RX-7 had a leaky oil seal. We drove to the area near Brown Field, where all the auto salvage yards are located. Destination: Ecology Auto Wrecking. Operation: Driving the Machine, Part II; Crimes Against The Racoon. ....... @^@ .....!
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