If I got a rack full of guns in the back window of my Civic and a bumper sticker colored like police lights that says “I dare you,” do you think I’d get pulled over more often or less often?

Life at times feels like watching a play that’s gone an act too long. I want to watch the action on stage less and less, and every time I look around, I notice more empty seats in the audience. There’s magic in that when you catch someone’s eye and share a look that asks, “What the fuck are we still doing here?” It gets so you want to stand and start shooting.

a horrible old monster built a whole world like a diorama.

it made a thing called a person and put it in the world box

every night, when the person slept, it split in two

and while the sleeping half kept sleeping

the new half ran away

every night, when the new half slept, it split in two

every time a person split, it looked a little different.

it turned out kind of funny

on account of all things split.

new halves had half a memory,

and their halves of brains were runny,

so they’d leak into the cracks.

new people remembered the world a little different

(though nothing was really true)

looked different

and were different.

that’s where you came from.

Like this if you’ve ever been charged with a felony.

people who drive cars without fucking back seats in them dot eat them dot com