A dead cat bounce, presaging a steeper decline.

To my own horror, which is only just beginning to manifest, and to the more immediate dismay of my friends and family, my hobby of pandemic gardening is being supplanted with pandemic crypto-trading.

Pandemic gardening has given me a way to be a more relatable person with a certain large subset of suburban people who, at the very least, grow tomatoes each summer in their well-tended yards. When I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do for small talk, asking about tomatoes will yield a positive response eighty-nine percent of the time. From tomatoes, the discussion can branch…

Why not eagles?

The son is with his alcoholic father for the weekend. The father is tall, spindly, a humanoid creature. One of its legs is noticeably larger than the other. It’s hair is matted under an old baseball cap, and it’s shaking hands don’t know what they are reaching for. It rarely comes out of its den, but if one should meet it on the street, one would become instantly sad and scurry away. No one will befriend it or give it a job. The son doesn’t know how to throw a ball.

The mother doesn’t know how to mother. She walks…

I’m sympathetic to the deceased winners of the Darwin Awards. It’s not hard to accidentally kill yourself. Falling off a cliff while taking a selfie, getting run over by your own car while unloading groceries, trying to break into your own house through the chimney and being trapped there in the sooty aerial coffin for all of eternity— maybe these unlucky individuals are not idiotic per say, but are sharp-minded Mensa wizards with a major case of ADD/ADHD.

Kikkerland Wind-up Katita Toy

If you’re like me, you’ve done plenty of stupid shit because you were blind to your surroundings or unable to consider consequences…

Lolo Main

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