For some reason, the theme song to “Johnny Quest” has been running through my mind this morning.

Yeah, I’m a freak.

Earlier this morning, I was feeling a bit peckish, and unfortunately, my stash of peanut butter cheese crackers had dwindled due to general malaise, and my refusal to go food shopping. I decided to buy a pack of peanut M&M’s. Yeah, M&M’s aren’t a traditional breakfast treat, but as a wise man once said, “Sometimes you just gotta say, ‘What the fuck?’”

Luckily, I found 65 cents in my desk drawer, and plunked them one by one into the gaping maw of the vending machine. The last coin, a nickel, taunted me by falling through to the coin return.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered silently.

Not being one to quit, I retried the nickel. It fell through again. But as I brought the bastard nickel from the coin return to try it once more, I noticed that the amount registered was 65 cents. Weird. So I slid the coin into the slot once again, and once again it returned the coin and credited me with five more cents.

Holy shit!

So, naturally, I tried it once again. I’d like to think that it was a sense of scientific experimentation and not greed that made me shove the nickel back into the slot for the fourth and final time. Unfortunately, this time, the coin was accepted.

I pressed “C3” and my M&M’s came crashing down into the tray. And two nickels came sliding into the coin return.

It’s been that kind of a day.

Yesterday, I returned home from a long day at work to find a package addressed to me in the mailroom in my apartment building. I hadn’t remembered ordering anything recently, and aside from a UPS tracking number, there was no return address. And since I paid my credit card bills yesterday, I knew there weren’t any purchases I wasn’t aware of. But the box was clearly addressed to me, so I tucked it under my arm, and took the elevator up the two floors to my apartment.

Yeah, I know it was lazy of me to not walk the two flights of stairs, but it was late, I was tired, and I was carrying things. So tough.

After entering my apartment, and slinging the rest of my mail onto my hall table, I grabbed the package and my keys and made my way into the living room, and turned on the TV (manually) before sitting on the couch and slicing open the package using the key to my office door. It’s the pointiest of my keys, and thus does double duty as key/mail opener.

I removed the packing slip, which only listed two items. No company. No shipper. No purchase information.

I pulled out the two items, both DVDs. Both DVD porn films. Someone sent me free DVD porn.

FREE DVD PORN!

I can only imagine the kind of hits I will now receive from that exclamation.

Some person, who took the time to purchase and anonymously send to me two European DVD pornos is now my very best friend. Oh, thank you for feeding my masturbatory tendencies.

There’s nothing quite like new porn. Seeing new hot women get it on fuels the imagination like kindling in a campfire.

I spent a few hours wading through the material. First, the film. Then, the extra angles, followed by the trailers for upcoming films, photos of the cast, and production notes. All on fast-forward, and mute. When checking out new porn, it’s best not to alert the neighbors.

I have no idea what I did to generate such generosity, but I thank you, dear friend (whoever you are), from the bottom of my heart. My new friend rocks.

And European porn kicks American porn’s ass.

READ THESE JOURNALS Uncle Bob SaraH

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