
Death is kind of a dick.

Death is kind of a dick.

The plot thickens!

This probably won’t end well.

I must look near death. I blame work. I was not made for this drudge-a-day life.
I am another year older! This keeps happening every year, like clockwork. I’m not sure what to make of that.
If you want to get me a present, why not go buy a copy of my book? That’s like a present for you, too!