You and Your Johnson Old school commercial, found via my friend Jeff Hemmel’s Ride Liquid blog.

Today I met Bukowski. Or maybe it was Jim Harrison. Or maybe just someone else with all the manic cravings but none of the talent. He had a brown paper bag and he sat on the park bench without his shirt. He held open a leather-bound writing journal. The water turned green over the past few days and the only way to see anything was by their tails. The thermometer hit 96 degrees and I stood on dried mud staring at glimpses of fish I knew I would not catch. I walked by his bench and he tipped his bag at me. He could just be askew or maybe he was acknowledging a parallel situation, or the fact that any passerby would quicken their…

We like the spots.