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For Florida's sole remaining sex surrogate, love is a many splintered thing.
It's not just giant companies cashing in on America's defense industry.
How a throwaway idea at the Barkley ad agency became the "Sonic Guys."
A diner's guide to Texas's oldest Mexican restaurants.
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Watching her cry, I knew Benchley had hit bottom. I had reached the mythical state of total anti-rock, which I call 'Train,' after the band. When the head of every drum is torn, and all guitars out of tune, when the microphone melts in your hand, that's Train, and I was in Train all the way up to my drops of Jupiter.
Posted by Paul Demko at April 14, 2004 11:04 AM
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