I don't want someone shoving his views down my throat, unless they're covered in a crunchy candy shell.

I've been mulling over a few choice questions that have been forming in my head, kind of debating whether or not to throw them up here.
I'm cautious about forming opinions about my beliefs because once made, they stick. I guess I don't like the idea of being blown about by popularity.
Puh.
I've been wrong more than once. Like recently.

Anyhow, my point being, every time I venture forth to write, these billowy thoughts overwhelm me and I retreat into my smoking jacket and lounge chair with a pipe clamped between my teeth.

Only I don't smoke, or have teeth.

I have also decided to put up a daily bonne bouche of the people around me. Because (spoken in a hushed whisper, curled under the table) "they's crazy".
And I prefer writing about others.

Chelsey sings: "Tell me what's yo' flava, flava." (that doesn't help)
Seth likes to eat Fire Cheetos with a hint of lime.
His sister likes Red Hots and Tamarindo.
What's wrong with this picture? Their taste buds have been warped by Marauding Mexican Malganus's.
That's what.

I will never fit in. SOB.