They like you very much, but they are not the hell “your” whales.

FWIW, I have no explanation why my life keeps coming back to big Lincolns and Ford wagons.  It certainly must be mere coincidence.  Yeah, that could totally be it.

1970 Ford Country Squire

“Don’t tell me…you’re from outer space.” … “No, I’m from Iowa. I only work in outer space.”


1977 Lincoln Continental Town Car

Let me tell you something. I’m here to bring two humpback whales into the twenty-third century. If I have to, I’ll go to the open sea

1977 Lincoln Continental Town Car grille

I’d much rather have yours. It’s better for me. It’s better for you. It’s better for them. Think about it.

Profile photo of Raoul Duke

Raoul Duke

When I came to, the general back-alley ambiance of the suite was so rotten, so incredibly foul. How long had I been lying there? All these signs of violence. What had happened? There was evidence in this room of excessive consumption of almost every type of drug known to civilized man since 1544 AD. What kind of addict would need all these coconut husks and crushed honeydew rinds? Would the presence of junkies account for all these uneaten french fries? These puddles of glazed ketchup on the bureau? Maybe so. But then why all this booze? And these crude pornographic photos smeared with mustard that had dried to a hard yellow crust? These were not the hoofprints of your average God-fearing junkie. It was too savage. Too aggressive. 

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