Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be North American.

Goodfellas references aside, the reason behind this rebellion against my Brazilian nationality was very specific, and I will get to it in a second, but the impulse to feel that way came from my fellow citizens often pointing out that I didn’t look quite as Brazilian as some of them. Which let me tell you, doesn’t make any sense.

For your Sunday enjoyment… some art!

It’s here. We’ve made it. Folks, we’ve made it to 20 volumes of Defenestration. That means we’ve officially hit the 20-year mark. This magazine is officially older than some of its contributors. I don’t have anything to say to commemorate this milestone, other than Defenestration is awesome, has always been awesome, and will continue to

[continue reading…]

They both cleared some space for the runner to pass by them and looked down the path waiting for them to round a corner of thick forest. But what rounded the corner was no jogger. Or, technically it was, because it was jogging. But it was no human jogger. No, instead it was a 25-foot great white shark. The massive white shark was propelled swiftly down the path on two very toned human legs clad in running shorts and Nike sneakers. Both of their eyes grew wide with terror. Chet’s darkest dreams had come to pass.

We all wondered what in the world when a spaceship materialized over the cul-de-sac, unfurling a rope ladder like a foreign flag, both sturdy and friendly.