I'm displacing my dismay at current events onto Lush for placing the Lord of Misrule, a Christmas tradition, into their Halloween collection.

A woman in the bark park last night, looking at my old, graying weiner dogs:
"Your dogs' faces make me sad because my dog's face will look like that someday."
The gummy was kicking in because all I could say was "Yeah," with the same lilt as an 80s sitcom teaching a lesson.

At the end of Star Wars, the Millennium Falcon shows up and saves the day. We, the audience, don't get to know that until the last second to ramp up the tension. But the rest of the characters in the movie had to have been able to see it incoming.

So if the idea of the "multiverse" holds true, then there is another universe out there where at the moment I had an angry thought about someone, they had a stroke and died. I mean, we're all walking around with a non-zero chance of dying on the spot, right?

There's a story about my grandmother when she was building warplanes back during WWII when she was the only worker in the whole dormitory who didn't get food poisoning. The nurse was flabbergasted that this woman was walking around when everyone else was puking their guts out.

Rick Deckard, Han Solo, and Indiana Jones walk into a bar. Who shoots first?

I don't like that civilization let's people you don't know set the social status of people you don't know.

I know how to simulate how it feels to have psychic powers:
Make all special and hidden characters visible in Word and open a doc from a Boomer.
Dammit, just use a page break, you don't have to hit the return key until the words go to the next page.

Judith killing Holofernes while he’s asleep, then sneaking off with the head. That’s more ninja than ninja.