Everything's a bad metaphor for sex.
Quentin R. BufogleTag: sex
Packy watched her walk away, her perfect heart-shaped rear end testing the confines of her tight black dress. There was a God. Packy was now certain of it. How else could such heart-stopping beauty be accounted for? Such a thing could not be the product of a random universe. A flower, maybe. A rainbow, perhaps. But not Venus Versailles.
Quentin R. BufogleTag: wish-you-were-here las-vegas flamingo bugsy-siegel venus-versailles
As with most things, my approach to writing has been entirely ass-backwards. I first had to become everything but a writer -- exhaust all possibilities. I had to come to it on my knees. Only when there was truly nothing left, was I able to become a writer.
Quentin R. BufogleTag: writing
Our love affair with guns has nothing to do with tyranny, or militias, or self-preservation. Just ask any NRA member the following: If Jesus Christ himself were to come down off the cross and grant you one wish, would you opt for a world without guns -- or the one we live in now? If every gun owner truly feared for their life and liberty, the answer would be obvious. But it's not about life and liberty. It's all about the sheer hard-on of owning a gun.
Quentin R. BufogleTag: guns second-amendment gun-control gun-violence gun-laws nra assault-weapons-ban gun-owners sandy-hook-massacre
I used to be a hopeless romantic. Now I'm just hopeless.
Quentin R. BufogleToday someone asked me if that old stereotype about hot-headed Italians is true. I answered this way: About 2,000 years ago, there was a guy running around hollering about peace
Quentin R. BufogleTag: humor religion stereotypes italians jesus-christ
If Heaven actually exists, I don't need anyone to be my real estate broker. After all, what is religion but an attempt to sell you a share in the ultimate gated community?
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