Shutterspeed

This just isn’t a country for old men. Rather, it’s hypocrisy at its best, dressed like Vegas on opening night at Caesar’s…

Last week they found a massive hole in the earth. An international committee was formed with the express objective to study it. A bunch of white coats peered at the hole, each pushing scientific jargon that told all told the same ‘doomsday’ story. Not a word was said about plugging it. Nope, it would be so much more lucrative to just leave it open. A large gaping orifice, staring at you with an abyss-like blankness.

Nothing slows time like a throbbing headache. Yep, I think they’re actually more excruciating than when you plough through a song and pretend to like it, because you’ve been told to. The worst headaches feel like a shot of radio static sent straight to your brain. The disorient fuzz that it creates sticks to the insides of your head.

Drink up, drink up.

You missed a spot.

“I think I hear them coming for me,” Larry said, his face contorting with a mixture of fear and disgust.

Well Larry, you are correct. Five fricking points. Once they’ve disemboweled you, they’ll proceed to make a mockery of your remains. I’m sorry, but what did you expect? A thirty-one gun salute? You’re just a lab rat, another statistic.

Stats are a great way to say absolutely nothing and still sound like the authority on a topic. Opinions are a great way to tick people off. Shutting up is a great way to further self-preservation. What’s your poison?