Nightcap 03/06/13

The great fantasy remains: to walk through the vaunted halls of our great museums and manses and, as we pass memorial portraits of leaders gone by – the great captains of industry, men of history and renown, popes and presidents – reach into the frame, drag them out of their painted slumber, and mercilessly beat their faces until the very earth itself stops spinning.
These motherfuckers think they're gonna win.

Nightcap 03/05/13

You're familiar with those automated baseball pitching machines? The voters of Colorado have just decriminalized them.

Nightcap 03/04/13

Americans have decided each family needs an eternally burning, open pit, tar fire in front of their dwelling, lest they face substantial fines. Garbage, old computer monitors and all the children's drawings are to be regularly thrown into the pit without mercy.
It was either this or literacy programs.

Nightcap 03/03/13

It's nights like these that I wish Sandpaper Charlie was real. If only he weren't just a story made up by the Mayor's henchmen to distract us from their dealings, from their betrayal. Like many others, I've got the urge to be taught the piano. All in one go. I want to learn how to play the grand concert piano in a single, eight hour session. Sandpaper Charlie could've done it. He'd make sure I didn't take any breaks, that I'd keep my shoes on and I'd know when to spit. We need someone who lines his jacket with 16-grit sandpaper and always has the right idea. Someone who can count to ten, who can climb up rope ladders despite their freestanding, unanchored, unpredictable, unreliable nature. They go every which way! We need someone who could show us how...

Morning Constitutional 03/03/13

Embalming as a hobby.
The modern escalator.
The terror of encephalopathy.
Erskine Bowles disorder.
Eudora the Liar.
The awful old men of English Literature.
Underwater exegesis maneuver.
The Elm Tree’s revenge.