“Why the sporadic posting, Twisty?” you ask. I’ll tell you. It’s because a couple of readers sent me this godawful thing. When I saw it the first thing I did was, I stared at the monitor with my giant mouth open. Then I made broken, gurgling noises. Then I snapped. I ran out into the street screaming like a mimi. My neighbor looked up from her gas-powered leaf-blower, observed that there was blood shooting out my eyes, and said, “What’s up, Twisty? A sub-par Oregon merlot again?” And I said, “Shit, almost! I’ve looked into the abyss, and the abyss looked back!”
My neighbor walked me back into the house, gave me an ativan, and put a cold cloth on my forehead. And I’ve been lying on the couch ever since, having spasms.