This guy from my hometown, trying to pass a school bus on a highway, crashed his truck right into a tree. He escaped the wreck, just before the ruptured fuel tank caught fire and scorched everything, but he fled into the roadway where traffic killed him.
Anyway, he once quit his after school job at the pharmacy by writing “Quit.” in pencil on his hourly timecard, like so:
IN
OUT
IN
OUT
IN
Quit.
So great.
My sister taped a note on a Mylar™ balloon. A hunter found her message, crash-landed low in a pine tree on some Vermont mountainside.
With alcoholic mixin’ in thirty diff’rent kitchens.
Wet Brain Syndrome can be.
I had a reoccurring dream when I was five or six that I was voluntarily buried alive without a casket under a tree in our front yard. And there I’d hang out in total darkness, for some reason completely exhilarated.
Also, the wine store guy was talking about how bad it’s getting because no one’s buying expensive booze much these days. So, just an FYI – no one is buying expensive booze much these days.
All-curing miracle elixir made from:
-sea-turtle egg omelettes
-bullets fired across the Iran/Iraq border
yes, way
Promised recap of cross-nation life-uproot experiement: Now On File
In the ‘Go West, young man,’ prescription bottle label fine print where it says ‘NO REFILLS,’ it also lists the Mo’ Better Ratio as—3:1. So all those times where Tom Petty is singing from, say, oh radios, into your zone about ‘No Place Like California,’ or whatever California songs… they’re all accurate. It is the future here. The trade-off, though… it’s also a strange little island where the knob for ‘Real World’ is turned down to ‘6′ and no one from here knows anything about anything else.
When I’ve cleaned away all the grease, and allergens and gotten up at the right time and taken my vitamins, and distanced myself, and inflated everything to the right pressure, and filled out all the forms completely, and called the support line, and changed the cartridges, and stretched, and sobered up enough, well sometimes, sir, none of it matters.
Also: This is an example of a real thing that’ s probably not a real thing.
Know that.
So, a few things before I must go back to the Haus of Pain…
1.) I am, among other things: a person, a comic website, and now an informational Facebook page about that comic website. And also a regular Facebook personal page, for the dedicated. Hit me up.
2.) I have a new job involving: lighter-than-air flight, the interweb, commuting large distances on nested vehicles (bicycle inside train, in this case), and half-abandoned Army/NASA airbases.
3.) After a year in San Francisco, my six years in Chicago has been bumping to the top of the jar, attempting recapitulation in some porpoise-language of soft bumps and squeaks. More on this later… my body is making a promise right now to let that particular porpoise do whatever it wants.
But right now it’s TIME TO MAKE THE DONUTS.
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