Surlyville

I got lost and found myself in Surlyville. I drove the pharmacy/liquor/ baby formula/ adult diapers/ tuna fish and police department and rolled down the window of my life boat to talk to the plastic molded head of Don Rickles. I was accosted. This was not “accosted” as in solicited for sex. No, this was the kind of accostment where epithets were hurled with great abandon. It was vile, caustic, vitriol and I don’t think I shall ever be the same. It turned me on.