Monday, September 16, 2019


"Painted crabs! My master must feed!"

I hate it, but on some level I also admire the balls it takes for Microsoft to send me an annoying notification telling me that it won't be sending me annoying notifications for a little while.

I might have gone a little overboard with the "MyPetIn5Words" tweets.

"Writer Tom Taylor... teases that not everyone will survive issue No. 1."
It's that Zorro-lookin' guy who bites it, right? He has "throwaway" written all over him. Gotta be the Zorro guy.

Irish whiskey is what scotch would taste like if it didn't hate you.

Wednesday, September 11, 2019


I dreamed I was in Hell. It started when I was just in a restaurant with my family. Two of the three people with me are dead in the real world. I was with my mom, my dad, and my brother. We were eating out. I was looking forward to it. They had some kind of chicken sandwich thing that I liked, and of course I love my family.

Thing is, I couldn't find the thing I wanted on the menu. I kept looking, and the waitress kept coming back. I knew it was there, but I couldn't make out the details. I couldn't read it. People started getting pissed off at me. Somehow, I ended up sitting on the floor, and I still couldn't get my order in. Everybody was mad at me, and finally I got mad at them, too. Eventually, I said I was going to the fast food place next door. Nobody cared.

I couldn't read the menu at the fast food place either, but the guy at the counter suggested something and I said that sounded great. Time passed, people got their orders, and I got nothing.

I'm not sure when, but I found myself in front of a different counter. I was told to hit a flappy thing to determine my punishment. I was confused by that, but I tried anyway. I missed completely. I was in a place with lots of white and silver, but that wasn't comforting. People were bustling around. No one was happy. They laughed at my failure and handed me a brochure. I could tell that it involved dental aberrations or… I'm not sure. Something about serial killers. Something about brain cancer.

What was clear was that I had a choice, and, looking at the brochure, I COULDN'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND IT. Again. I knew my options were all horrible. I also knew that even choosing the least horrible of the horrible options was beyond my power. I thought about killing myself, but, of course, I was in Hell. You can't escape that way when you're in Hell.

I woke up. I was glad it was just a dream, but