I HAVE A friend who bought a building and is renovating. He tore down walls and made a big mess, and he found a brown bag stuffed behind an old water heater.
Inside the bag were, well, magazines. With pictures. One was for the girls, if you know what I mean, and three others were for the guys. They dated back to the mid-70s.
Also in the bag were items to, well ... to be safe. Because if you were going to fool around, even in the carefree and excessive 1970s, you had to be safe. I guess.
Apparently the space was used by a rather well-known dentist back in the day. That, of course, leads to all kinds of speculation and rumor, which is what this blog is all about. It could give new meaning to terms like "cavity" and "filling" and "flossing on a daily basis," but that's cheap and sophomoric humor and I simply won't go there.
And "dentists playing doctor." Sorry. I couldn't resist one more.
Ah. If walls could talk. I bet the walls in our historic Second String Music building have some stories, too. Of course, I don't want to necessarily hear them.
Or find what's hidden in them.
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