Where's the love? Oh, I know where

Greetings, friends,

It is once again late in the night, and once again time to ponder those things which one can only ponder when the weight of fatigue invites us to forgo the clunky trappings of coherence, and allow a true stream of conscious to pour forth from our intellects.

Although many questions traverse my mind on a regular basis, one in particular has been weighing heavily on my conscience in the years since the Black Eyed Peas released their philosophically complex, and deeply moving track expressing the sentiment that all of us feel when we see our favorite on-screen character get dumped; "Where's The Love".

Well, friends, I am happy to announce that while I have not yet divined the answer as to why medium drinks are often called medium even though they are the smallest available beverage, I have discovered where the love is; IT'S ON STATE STREET, ON HALLOWEEN, IF YOU'RE DRESSED AS FUNKY ABRAHAM LINCOLN! Yes, yours truly dressed up as Mr. Lincoln this year, complete with some accessories to bring our 16th President up to the modern age... or, I should say, the disco age.

Frankly speaking, friends, I got more random drunk girl hugs down on State Street that night than I have ever gotten in my entire life combined. I mean, did Abe himself get this much attention from the girls when he was alive? If so, how did he ever get around to running the war, abolishing slavery, saving the union, etc? We've all heard of beer goggles, right? Well, apparently, when girls drink, Abe suddenly becomes the sexiest man of any age; they just can't get enough of running their fingers over that stove pipe hat.

When not being randomly hugged by drunk girls, I was often caught on the receiving end of a certain speech, delivered promptly after an intro sounding something like, "HEEEEEY! AAABE LINCOLN! I GOT A SPEEECH FOR YA!" The articulation was generally much more slurred than this particular font allows me to express. So, can you guess what speech it was? THAT'S RIGHT! LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS! "With malice towards none, with charity towards all, let us seek to bind up this nations wounds..." YEP! THAT ONE!

Okay, so it wasn't the Second Inaugural, and in fact, I was going to give twenty dollars to anybody who was able to quote me anything but the first two lines of the Gettysburg Address, but it never happened.

I am disappointed to say that I escaped State Street without either irritated eyes or puncture wounds from tasers. Apparently I left just a bit too early.

In other news, I recently played the high roller and bought myself some raffle tickets. I usually try to avoid any sort of gambling adventures since losing everything in Atlantic City back in '49; but these tickets were being sold by a pre-schooler who did not readily appear to have any three hundred pound gorillas at her beck and call to break my thumbs, so I figured I was safe. The fabulous array of prizes ranged from gift certificates, to complimentary rounds of golf, to dinners at fancy restaurants. I won the Finding Nemo blanket. Yes, that's right. If you wonder why everyone around you seems to be seething in jealousy these days, it's because I, Peter Groth, made off with the true prize of the Oregon Pre-School Raffle, and they're stuck with the dregs.... namely, gift certificates to L'Etoile. While they're dining on their uppity French cuisine, I'll be keeping warm in twenty-five square feet of Disney licensed cuddliness. Ha! Suckers!

Here's a question to ponder while staring at your ceiling in cold sweats during those sleepless nights of existential angst:

Exactly how many times is one supposed to say "Thank You" if someone graciously holds two consecutive doors for you? I always feel that one thank you is insufficient once the second door is breached, but two makes me feel like a broken record. Is there any protocol for this sort of thing? Could I maybe say "Thank" as I pass through the first door that is being held open for me, and "You" as I pass through the second door? Your ideas concerning this matter would be appreciated.

Randomly yours,

Peter