assume a new identity every quarter hour: be saintly, paranoid, the lonely owner of a cat. butter a slice of bread on both sides. drop it. frown at the result and repeat your experiment seventeen times; take notes for posterity. sing a song he doesn’t like. gather dust balls and put them on a shelf
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My name is Nameless and I am a googleholic My friends said I needed intervention, that unaided ungoogling is unbearable, suggested Googleholics Anonymous (GA). (I had to google to find one, though) The GA director said googling is incurable, that once a googleholic always a googleholic, that it was predestined and permanent. (I googled all
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I’ve found that at this point in the evening my train of thought tends to be an empty passenger locomotive dangerously low on fuel, more inclined than not to derail under a slight breeze, and running along rusted-out tracks held together with duct tape and a prayer. The engineer is passed out cold and the conductor’s under the delusion that he
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