I could really go for a nap.
I guess not as long as they’re free.
She’s actually Kali. Which would explain a lot.
I miss the X Files of yore, when the whole federal government was suspect and not to be trusted instead of today’s “let’s just beat everyone over the head until they’re senseless with our anti-Trump message.” I mean it’s just so boorish. Juvenile. Pedestrian. Obvious. At the very least, Chris Carter, you could be subtle. I mean we all know you’re capable of subtlety.
And I’m not even pro-Trump.
You’re weirding me out.
I hate you, copier. I hate you.
I wish that took longer to do, actually.
I think Larry Nassar should be brutally tortured every single one of his remaining days, but that judge crossed a very important line with her commentary, and instead of calling her a hero, people ought to be a little concerned about how she handled herself during that sentencing.
Does anyone else find it ironic that the people shouting that the future is female are the same people who insist that gender is fluid and non-binary?
Farewell, Tiny Letter. It could have been awesome.
No really. It works. I’m not just messing with you.
I do actually know how to do that.
I should do a Good Death podcast.
If I were the kind of person to podcast.
That is hilarious and I am sorry it did not happen to me.
I’m sorry, but I actually played a pretty crucial role in this whole thing too. But yeah, don’t give me any credit.
OMG this has to have been a joke.
Sometimes hearing someone say “you matter” just doesn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference.
I will give you six dollars and my eternal gratitude and friendship.
If I took a Random hiatus to work on a book, would you buy it?
Bringing back memento mori photography, with a modern eye. I feel really good about this.
Just because I’m here right now doesn’t mean I’m on the clock. Leave me alone.
The Mitten is too cloudy for that sort of thing. I can live with that.
I wonder how feasible it would be to get a funeral director’s license at this stage.
Oh. I’d have to get a whole ‘nother bachelor’s.
I’m not really excited about doing embalming anyway.
I can’t help it if I’m feeling particularly bitter this week.
Don’t let anybody steal it!
Our “neighborhood” is hilarious.
Now we definitely need a pig.
Never mind about Random. Or the book. I think I’ll just quit this whole thing.
Sudden blessed quiet. Did the apocalypse happen to everyone in here but me?
Roman candles thingies.
I do love a good dinner roll.
The Winchesters sure are able to find. Wait. I said this before. I think.
This roast beast is actually quite good for a frozen lunch.
Can you like music if you don’t have a soul? I do not think that you can.
I feel like I’ve said that before too.
This calls for a bath in alcohol gel.
Aneurysm is my spelling kryptonite.
See, when you give in to this kind of nonsense, the lunatic fringe wins. Jesus.
I’m sorry, chickens. I’m feeling less bitter now. But still thinking about hanging this up.
You can’t list fries as a bullet point. It’s a side dish.
The pig saga might be my favorite thing about 2018. And that is a fact.
I’m pretty sure you can be arrested for that.
It’s a sinking ship, and I have a feeling I’ma be the only one left on the deck on account of everyone else took the life preservers.
I need to find a home for this calendar.
Anyone want to read along?
I guess I could eat.
I should probably wash my hair.
What are they doing to our sign? Is it supposed to light up? I’ve never seen it in the dark. In the dark. In the dark. (And that, chickens, is an actual real time stream of consciousness glimpse inside my brain.)