M late in mentioning Jay B.'s Edrosothon
only because I wasn't certain there hadn't been some small misunderstanding; the Internet's Best Journal-ist mentioned
the loss of a sublet, nothing more. I was more than happy to toss in a paltry handful of coins to a man who'd never go without a beer if he were in want, I were nearby, and he knew I'd said that, but I didn't think it was time to sound a general alarm. And besides, if you waste time here without reading Roy or Scott and s.z.
then there's no talking sense to ya.
But the need is real, so go help out if you haven't already. You might've noticed this isn't a just world. You may even have noticed that I seem okay with the concept. And I am, because while Time is Infinite, matter is finite, and thus, I'm sure, we will each of us get the opportunity to pinch David Brooks really hard for every weaselly phrase he utters. That doesn't mean we can't also improve the here and now and unfairly fucked up.
Pinch? Or punch?
Twist when you pinch. Hard.
Post a Comment