Mission Statement
We, Dear Screwsan, being of sound mind and body, do hereby solemnly swear to produce only the most one-sided, poorly researched and culturally inane politico-sexual commentary and advice to anyone who will take it, and to many who will not.
Our first few posts are reports from the front lines of the Republican National Convention, a star-studded gala taking place in our hometown of New York, New York* from August 29, 2004-September 2, 2004. We attended** said convention with our friend and neighbor, Scott, who was all Jimmy Olson and shit, with his expensive photography equipment and adorable little tie.
But one cannot live by Convention alone, and we here at Dear Screwsan believe that there are Interested Readers*** out there who will benefit a little (or, more probably, not at all) from further investigations, solicitations and pontifications into, upon and through the shallow, muddy waters of the American Sexual Psyche. That is not to say that we are Freudians, although we have, in the past, had recurring dreams about a flying purple phallus; but we suspect that had more to do with the drugs than any sort of repressed genital insecurities.
Which is all a very long-winded way of saying: This is a blog about sex and it’s trappings****. Feel free, Interested Readers,*** to send in ideas, innuendo, questions and stories. It will certainly take a lot of the pressure off us and will no doubt enhance the readability of this site enormously. Dearscrewsan@yahoo.com.
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* Truth be told, we actually live in New Jersey, but this made for a nicer, less complicated sentence. Hey, what’s good for the president is surely good for his constituents. Which reminds us: has anyone seen our eight ball? We seem to have lost it somewhere between the BYOB strip club and Camp David.
**In our blogging naivete, we figure the only way to put this post at the beginning of our blog is to pre-date it before all the other posts, though in reality we are writing this well into the first week of September. Stay tuned for coverage other Important Events before they actually occur!
***Carolyn; Mom.
****”Trappings” being those issues and events which are a) of slight-to-moderate interest to us here at Dear Screwsan and b) easy to bullshit about.
Our first few posts are reports from the front lines of the Republican National Convention, a star-studded gala taking place in our hometown of New York, New York* from August 29, 2004-September 2, 2004. We attended** said convention with our friend and neighbor, Scott, who was all Jimmy Olson and shit, with his expensive photography equipment and adorable little tie.
But one cannot live by Convention alone, and we here at Dear Screwsan believe that there are Interested Readers*** out there who will benefit a little (or, more probably, not at all) from further investigations, solicitations and pontifications into, upon and through the shallow, muddy waters of the American Sexual Psyche. That is not to say that we are Freudians, although we have, in the past, had recurring dreams about a flying purple phallus; but we suspect that had more to do with the drugs than any sort of repressed genital insecurities.
Which is all a very long-winded way of saying: This is a blog about sex and it’s trappings****. Feel free, Interested Readers,*** to send in ideas, innuendo, questions and stories. It will certainly take a lot of the pressure off us and will no doubt enhance the readability of this site enormously. Dearscrewsan@yahoo.com.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Truth be told, we actually live in New Jersey, but this made for a nicer, less complicated sentence. Hey, what’s good for the president is surely good for his constituents. Which reminds us: has anyone seen our eight ball? We seem to have lost it somewhere between the BYOB strip club and Camp David.
**In our blogging naivete, we figure the only way to put this post at the beginning of our blog is to pre-date it before all the other posts, though in reality we are writing this well into the first week of September. Stay tuned for coverage other Important Events before they actually occur!
***Carolyn; Mom.
****”Trappings” being those issues and events which are a) of slight-to-moderate interest to us here at Dear Screwsan and b) easy to bullshit about.
posted by Screwsan at 6:22 AM
2 Comments:
Dear Screwsan,
Hey man does this shit count for the reborn? I lost the band and I'm still here in kingdom come waiting on the next train bebe. I got smacked up here by accident man. Remember that gig in New Haven?
Anyway I gotta question for you Screwzy. Can sex be a kind of heroin? Or is it just me?
Janis
Dear Janis,
Is Kathleen Brennan young enough to bear Tom Waits children? Because if I were you, that's where I'd do my reincarnating.
As for sex and heroin, yes I think you could say that. At least, they spread the same cock-rotting diseases. Which is why we love them. Drinking Southern Comfort, while fun, doesn't pack the same punch as those phallic intruders.
Which is something else I wanted to mention: Janis, when I was 16 and wanted to be just like you, I spent a weekend in a dirty motel in Iowa drinking Southern Comfort with a group of boys puking my guts up and god knows what else. SoCo is some nasty shit. You could have warned me...you could have warned us all! But that's okay, I still want to be you anyway.
xo
Screwsan
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