Oh Dear-ierre

Spend enough time patrolling the bloody Twitternet™ and you learn that the world isn’t such a big, bad place. We are all the same, each of us the creation of a sturdy-jawed Higher Power whose picture graces our front hall and who requires a 10% tithe of pre-tax income, plus canned goods and gently-used London Fog® wear come holiday. We are all a collection of molecules and US Cellular structures, a deoxyribeyednucleic mashup of chromosonal something-or-others. We are skin and bones, citizens, some more skin than honed, and we're all desperate for Mommy's love, Daddy's approval and a young schoolteacher's admiring look that stirs something in our developing underbelly. White, black or a confectioner's milk chocolatey brown, we are all the very same deep down under our genuine Louis Prima® cotton drawers or giantine lacy unmentionables.