Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Nothing exists in this world that compares to Swedish candy. They don’t call it gummy candy for nothing. Screw teeth, who needs ‘em. When you're toothless (and gum-my, get it), you can tear into floppy gelatinous sugar like a rabid herring. In fact, that’s probably the inspiration behind the Swedish fish. Besides Swedish fish, there are also green frogs, race cars, worms, pop bottles, pacifiers and what I had previous thought were unquestionably mice. At Swedish Club on Saturday, Tom got his hands on one of these mice. It was a green little sucker. After some careful study, Laura piped up that Tom had eaten, not a mouse, as previously suspected, but a gummy ferret. Personally, I was skeptical of Laura’s provocative remark. First, the creature in question was green. Not a soft, pleasing green, but a really radioactive green. I felt that a ferret would be too self respecting to parade around like a charlatan frog. Second, the gummy rodent exhibited what I considered very mou

“Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” – Ben Franklin, famously It sends chills down my spine, this axiom of Franklin's. I do not sing in the shower welcoming the new day as a gift from our Creator. I am not a pre-10 AM self-starter. I do not let my first hour set the theme of success and positive action that is certain to echo through my entire day. Frankly I have no idea what happens before 9. I'm not coherent in that timeframe. But while I'm strewn out on my petard, come to find out the Morning People are gloriously prancing about checking priority to-do's off their ambitious daily plans. By the time I get to work, it's practically the next day for them. Each and every crack of noon, I hear about the miles run, the pages turned, the hostile takeovers accomplished. So you can't blame me for concluding there's some sort of occult jubilee that goes on at dawn in which time is warped and one hour becomes like seven or eight.