So, there's this mediocre planet. Third stone from a sun. Currently overrun by Raider fans, fake pimps and strip malls, it's various Departments of All Things Rules and Regulations meets daily with the plutocracy (and various religious leaders) to dumb down the culture and resistance against the oligarchy's impositions. The by-products of which might be likened to grey goo, Captain Trips, and genetic pollution.

Out of this though, there is a lone resister. Sporting racing stripes and carrying a Mexican flag, there is One that illuminates and inspires, despite those that would intend to guard their e-motional, spiritual, and intellectual inertia, despite the self-obsessed, vapid, and insipid, One maintains his humanity. His capacity for relatedness. His softness. The important parts of being dangerous. Like the e-motional equivalent of potassium perchlorate, He spreads wisdom. The brown version of a benign, perpetual Ministry of Information.

At the very least- kiss him when you see him. Exchange of energy is all that can save this planet now. Sacrifice. Being still. Come burn one on the porch of the One True Mayor of Pasadena, and listen to the New Bomb Turks. Who needs peyote and 4 days on the mountain top? Just off Lake Avenue...

A message from Richie is like riding a rollercoaster without brakes, but one that has a nice bag of cotton candy waiting for you at the end. He wants you to think he's a bad mofo, and I'd tell you that in truth he's a fuzzy bunny...but he'd kick my ass if I did.

Richie is the shiznit and he takes the most fly pics. He writes like hell on keys. He can give you at least 10 reasons why you should be his friend. and he'd charm the pants off you, if he weren't too much a gentleman to take 'em.

Date this guy.
He can cook, sew, iron and change the starter in a 1962 Galaxie.
He'll make you laugh. He'll buy you funnel cake.
He rocks. righteously.

Sincerely,
Ms. Dynomite

P.S. -- for references call 1-800-GO-RICHIE