Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 4 · column 3 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
To the editor:
Milk drinkers make better lovers, everyone knows that, right? Better than beer guzzlers or whiskey drinkers, certainly.
Yet as Earth Day ’90 fades into the memory banks of forgotten sunny Sundays I would like to turn our thoughts momentarily to a relationship that we each individually have with the same lover, namely the planet. A complex relationship to be sure, and one that, like many others, can be approached from a variety of emotional levels.
It can be adversarial, phlegmatic, hostile, gentle, crude or hopefully loving. It is a distinctive relationship in one very important aspect; we can not avoid or escape it save through death.
Do milk drinkers make better lovers? Not in the case of one milk drinker who travels through the Rock Mills area every morning on his way to work. This despoiler, a crude and hostile lover of the planet, who no doubt wears soiled underwear; this slob persists in throwing his empty carton of milk out onto the roadbed within a couple of hundred feet of the bridges at Rock Mills on an almost daily basis, and has done so for years.
Crude, huh! But the thing that is ultimately infuriating about it is that one can tell by the way the cartons lay in the road, and by the regularity of their disposal that this myopiccretin actually takes some kind of perverse pleasure in his act. As if it validates his manhood (or lack of it) in some unfathomable way: "Hey
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