My mother photographs dead people for her scrapbook. Scrapbooks I should say. There are many. Each one’s labeled with a volume number and the dates it covers. Each picture has a label that’s been printed and cut into a tiny fortune-cookie-type strip that says “Thanksgiving 2004,” or “Jim’s Graduation,” or “Julie’s first car.” They […]
Those were the days.
Thank you. I mean that. It’s a nice sentiment. But I’d rather have a series of recreational colonoscopies than spend a week with you freaks. Seriously. It’s not personal. I don’t dislike any of you in particular. I dislike all of you, as a group. That may be a bit harsh considering I don’t really […]