Kevin Seamon

The cops looked at each other, and would later congratulate themselves for not suggesting this crazy lady’s idiot husband had gotten himself kidnapped by the cartel. 

The holiday season is a time of extremes. 

I call out to those of you reading who still have a fight left in your bones. 

In this modern age, our species is capable of extreme solitude. However, some people within said species “haven’t seen you in, like, forever,” and attempt to draw you out of your bedroom, disrupting your “Cheers” binge to tell you about their promotion, while you’ve spent the preceding day trying and failing to write a sarcasm-free cover letter.

I’m grateful for a possible future I don’t want.

Good grief. Despite it being inherently oxymoronic, there is such a thing. 

It’s the kind of picture you find once every few years, in a different junk drawer each time, hidden amongst the pieces of detritus that fill out the borders of your life.