Sick of the bullshit. And the motherfuckers, y’all.

Sick of the sickness.

This commercial sends me into a near-murderous rage every time it comes on. If only on the final, shrill “Jackpot!” someone would walk up with a handgun and put a bullet through the back of his head, I’d consider buying a pizza.

…The Longest Poem in the World.

Sometimes you meet a person and that person wears a black bird on their shoulder. They’ll talk to you about the darkness and animal sacrifices and how the blood pours out of arteries and flows over the grass if you’re mature enough to see it, if you’ve gotten over your white Anglo-Saxon protestant set of morals. They may even say something about how dark and light is all a lie, just flip sides of the same coin, and there may seem to be a sense of truth in what they say, but there will also probably be a sense of unease and self deception.

Sometimes you’ll meet a devil at a crossroads and you’ll ask yourself the question, “Is it worth it? Should I accept the gifts of this starch-suited demon with a white smile and a black tongue? Are the gifts worth the price?” and the answer may very well be yes, and if it is then you’d better take the deal. A gift that turns into a greater gift is always worth more than your lowly soul.

Sometimes you’ll meet an alligator, if you’re marching through the swamp, and you’ll have sweat dripping in a pool from the tip of your nose, and mosquitos will flock around your carbon dioxide so you’ll probably be itching and tired and just want to lay down. You’d better watch out for his rolling and tumbling bite and push through the weariness or you’re going to end up on the bottom of the swamp, sucked into the plants and mud and bog, half-eaten and cold and lifeless.

Sometimes you’ll meet the sun right at the edge of the western sky, creeping its way down along the horizon, eventually leaving only moon and stars, and as the light slowly dies away you may see darkness and be struck by how the light and dark play against each other, one slowly turning into the other. It may strike you as a strange eternal game, and you may notice that the light and the dark are making love, not fighting, and that each dawn is the birth of day, every twilight the birth of night. Then you’ll realize that you must be lying to yourself, but every lie contains a hint of the truth, and every truth is also a lie. In the end, you may find that you’re a child of dark and light, which might make you uncomfortable, as they taught you in the chapel that we are all light, God is all light and holy and the light is holy holy holy but there is no holy night only holy sun.

Sometimes you may be standing in a city street in the evening time, streetlights blinding you to the cars and people around you. Sometimes you may think you can see, but then you may find that you never saw anything at all.

The headline should read: “Stupid white girl makes decision without foresight, then looks to blame someone else.” And if you put it that way . . . not really “newsworthy.”

The tattooist embroiled in a row with a teenage girl who claims he tattooed 56 stars on her face when she only asked for three has said he will help pay for them to be removed. Rouslan Toumaniantz said today that Kimberley Vlaminck ‘absolutely’ agreed she wanted 56 stars tattooed on the left side of her face.

But now the 18-year-old is suing Toumaniantz, claiming she had asked him for only three stars – and had fallen asleep during the procedure, waking up to a nightmare in her Belgian hometown of Courtrai.