YOU DEMAND, WE SUPPLY

I try to get the word out.

Having just mass-mailed a newsletter with no subject line and committed whatever passes for a faux pas in the horrid twilit dork-a-verse that is "Facebook," I cannot but eagerly anticipate what will go wrong with this fuckin' blog posting. Perhaps I will inadvertantly include my social security number? Perhaps I will CC my employer?

Anyway, to the crux:
ASHER is back at the Iron Rail, giving massages!

Today, Sunday, 3-7 p.m.!

Now, I try not to objectify allies, but rest assured, were you to find Asher merely TWENTY PERCENT as charming as does the average person, you would still be more charmed by him than first-time parents are by their newborn.

I say 'newborn' for purposes of analogy, but make no mistake: Asher's hands are unambiguously full-grown. They are the hands of a great sculptor, or perhaps a symphony conducter who splits his own cordwood: the hands of a do-er, a master craftsperson, a kinaesthetic shaper of better destinies.

And folks, it is THOSE EXTRAORDINARY HANDS, those same heaven-infused, sinewed extremities which Asher will deploy to sculpt YOUR VERY FLESH, working out stresses that might date back months, even years... tension you've been carrying for a decade, unawares! This is your chance. He's got the goods; let him heal you.

Asher is a certified, professional masseuse who is generously donating his skills to help raise funds for our ambitious but impoverished littleinfoshop/spa. He's got a chair and everything. Pay what you can, but do not miss out on this...