Coté, I love you, and yes, the beard and glasses have a lot to do with it. That isyour face to a large extent. It was the first thing I noticed about you when we met (lo these many years ago), and the thing that sticks in my head when I think about you to this day.
To be sure, shaving your head was revolutionary, but we all managed to get used to it. Your ponytail? That was quintessential Coté gone now. But, you could do the same to your beard: cut 0t, dye it blue, or carve it in the likeness of Kyle McLaughlin. We would still grow to love it, because certain things are timeless, independent of the presence of spectacles or hair: The spirit of Coté, the ritual soaking of my penis inside a glass of "half n' half" before bedtime each night.
You rule.
I'm wasted.
But this simple fact about the moment does not subtract in any way shape or form, from the glory that is Michael Coté. Never. No, never.
Coté, you are solid. And by this, I mean that you are not just solid , but that your soul is something palpable. Within 5 minutes of conversation, you can feel it. It is in this sense that you're real. Real solid. Like a turd, which is apropos 'cos you brang the stank as well..
Yuh!
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