View from The Edge of the Plateau

I heard some where that there are two kinds of men in the United States, Elvis men and Beatles men. There was a time when I did like the Beatles, but now, for some reason, just the thought of listening to Sgt. Pepper's or the White Album makes my stomach turn. Elvis puts me in a good mood, regardless of the song. Hell, it can even be a cover of Elvis and I immediately feel better about whatever situation I am in.

My friend gave me an album to listen to last night. Seeing as how I don't have an Internet connection at home, I waited until this morning to give it a spin. I listened to the first track for fifteen seconds, then my stomach started rumbling. I listened another twenty seconds and I had full-on heartburn. I skipped to the next track and thought to myself "this really sounds a lot like the Beatles." I skipped to the next track. During the three minutes and fifteen seconds of listening to his album, I went from calm and collected to having the worst, most violent case of explosive diarrhea I have ever encountered (besides two weeks ago Friday when I played the role of Spud in my own private version of Trainspotting).

One would think this a fluke, but one would be wrong. This afternoon, I tried to listed to the album again. Beginning with the last three tracks. I spent the last twenty minutes in the bathroom making fingernail marks in the stall paint and praying to every god I could name (Jeebus finally ended my ordeal, Praise be Him!).

Suffice it to say, I feel much better now and am humming dutifully along to Little Sister.