It is true that I met this man in the barren, dry desert. I believe he was passed out on a couch (yes, in the desert). He woke up and spent the night on a trampoline with me and several other flawless people and a few travelling novas across the sky. The months that followed involved some of the best company and cooking whenever Mr. Munson was in residence at my flat. He cooks a mean stuffed trout. He's an amazing artist (and I'm not just saying that because he painted my portrait a couple of times) with a wonderfully talented wife and a classy (insert your definition of classy here) sense of humor. Oh yeah, and he learned network administration in what seemed like 48 hours.

Munson, come over here and hug me.

I have known homeboy for going on 10 years. He has always be a good ear to lean on, a supportive friend when you needed one and he gives really sound advice. Im glad to have him as a friend, and more glad that it has endured for so long.

munson scares me. when I walk by him I can feel his intense gaze in the back of my neck. do not turn your back on this man! he is a degenerate I tell you. I've seen him go through all my kitchen cabinets looking for booze. and you better give it to him. you do not want to see him when he is sober. its better to feed the monster. did I mention he wears no underwear and is nercoleptic? better lock up your daughters.

Dave may survive his trip up to Portland. And if not, he will gloriously entombed with the others who have fallen.

... is actually the governer of new england.