My mind -- infinitely in the gutter.

My mind drips with filth.  As much as I try to get it out of the gutter, it escapes from me and crawls right back in.

Yesterday was no exception.

So, you're all familiar with what a lance is, right?  It's basically those really long sticks knights used to knock each other the fuck out during jousts back in the day.

See?  A really long stick.

I like to imagine after a day of like, slaying dragons and getting syphilis from some whore princesses they rescued, knights would gather at the local bar, get totally obliterated and hit on the the ladies by making crude references to how big their lances are.  Or, maybe one of those ladies would go up to a knight, get real close  and say something like, "Is that a lance in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

"It's not the size of your lance that matters, it's all in how you... uh... do the jabbing."

The jokes had to start somewhere, people.  I'm just speculating.

The reason I bring this up is because I saw this when I pulled up behind a truck at a stoplight yesterday.  Now, maybe my mind had to be in a really dark place at the time, but I immediately took it a direction I'm certain was not intended by Lance Snacks.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

They're pretty much one step away from taking a page out of the medieval lady's book by changing their slogan to, "Are those snack crackers in your pocket...?"  You know how the rest goes.

I wonder if the teenaged Lancelot's mom ever told him to keep his lance in his pants.