Tales from the Spreadeagle Ranch

Definitely not safe for work. A collection of stories and poems recounting drug-fueled sexual misadventures, half-remembered war stories from the streets of north Texas, the search for Grace through the purgative of hard work, and the dignity that rides along in the endless parade of human debris on the streets, which constitutes glimpses at a grim but cheerful memoir of a puer eternis, a prodigal son of Texas and the west sending maydays from his pig sty in a far off land called Periphery. There may be no Grace, no redemption. There may be no need. Our salvation is at hand.
From Dr. Popeye-X of The Toiletside Reader: Mugtoe is so Texas, but then he's like the Velvet Underground, or something... you know, HARD CORE, but friendly. Put a typewriter keyboard in front of him and he turns mean as a son-of-a bitch, like he's actually enjoying the fact that I know he's crossing the line... and about 4 or 5 other lines most people don't even know are out there, he's crossing them, comin' back, and crossing them again! He's not heading into the fringe, he's FROM the fringe! He's already done s**t crazier than I'll ever even think of to not do. I've known guys like him before, they LIVE IT! ...He reminds me of a Festus Lou Reed, or something. Loyal as the day is long, but an ornery sum-bitch in a scrap. To me, Mugteaux is an old-time, yarn-spinnin' kinda guy, like Davy Crockett. He talks funny, with a Dallas accent. He really does dress like Junior Samples in real life. He's like the Gay Huck Finn, slowly transforming into The Glue-Huffing Wilford Brimley, all while trapped in the body of a perverted Will Rodgers on smack. The toxic waste mutation from a wicked Rod McKuen gene, run amok in a lab, currently at large....
MO: always: says the same excuse when busted: "but officer! It's just the merest samplin'! Also known to proclaim, "It's only for medicinal purposes!"