ECONOMICS 101 Thoughts of you stick with me like the glue from a bar code label on the blue plastic drinking glass we bought on a lark for drinking in the park -- remember? Even Comet won't clean it away. You're here to stay. Sticky goo you. Every time I take a drink. I'm forced to think of you -- how you held me. I've got better things to do. Like finish this glass of wine, which tastes just fine from a plastic glass, thank you. Is this a sign from God? How odd. I don't even believe and yet I think it's true that this glue is you metastickmaticly calling me across the divide of time and tide. And the angels sighed. This glass is a prophet, I do believe, if not, it makes no cents. Mike Geary Memphis