The Thinking Minority

As I stood in court today slightly inebriated becuase the big bottle of white merlot had not yet evaporated from my blood, I started to day dream about how much I loved the month of October. My love for this the tenth month of the year and gateway to Fall-ish weather (remember I live in Florida) isn't for either of forgoing reasons nor is it for Holloween (since I have never worn a costume or trick-or-treated in my life). I have come to discover that my love for October is rooted in its celebration. We spend thirty one-derful days celebrating breasts, boobies, knockers, dirty pillows, fun bags, jugs, squeezers or whatever you call them in your time of joy or glory. It is at this point that an impish grin slowly crept its way across my face and I noticed that I was staring into the rafters. I was suddenly disturbed by the sound of a gavel, a very loud, "Mr. Berry!," and the question, "Where were you just now?" Still with the impish grin that had morphed into full blown smile mode, I responded, "My happy place, Your Honor. One day, I should take you there." Then we proceeded with the rest of the court day no doubt a little happier.

I just thought I should share that story and remind everyone to buy, eat, wear, touch or combo them all something pink. Do your part to help the cause. SUPPORT BOOBS!