Grownups Are Lucky

People used to go to large auditoriums and crowd near each other, screaming out mists of germs while rubbing elbows and swaying against other bodies while handsome musicians sang about banal lusts.

If you are giving a gift it is a good idea to brand it with an identifying mark in case somebody tries to steal it and later on you run into the thief in another time zone.

Mother nature doesn’t think much of you.

These days lifting oneself up by the bootstraps means performing your own medical procedures on yourself with money you had to borrow from Aunt Helen.

This is one of those cute stories where you think: Well, I guess that was cute, if you are into that sort of thing in a miniature story.

If fans could talk, they’d be all, “What’s with all the shit?”

We are all barely here for barely any longer, but that still might be a long time, like however long the dinosaurs were here, and maybe still are.

Why do we assume that aliens will find us attractive? I don’t even find us attractive.

We can’t promise it won’t sting a little to ponder olden times when you could casually browse the bulk section of a supermarket and maybe even flirt with another human without wearing rubber gloves or having to say, “where’d you get that mask?”

Some great feelings taste great together. Some don’t. Who’s thirsty?