My high rating is biased because I'm pretty sure I was Mad Mary for a good period of my life and I like watching movies about people like me. Especially when they focus on my one time super power of exhausting the entire universe with nothing but a few drinks, a chip on my shoulder and a vendetta against anyone who didn't have the patience to sit and listen to me rage until the end of the world.
Good times!
Remember jokes?
Me neither.
And so I put this on in hopes of remembering. But something is wrong. I don't think this is what jokes used to look like. Something terrible has happened.
Can someone tell me what is going on with my face? Why is it twisting into horrible shapes? And when I grit my teeth and find myself beginning to moan deep and mournfully, is this laughter? Is it supposed to feel bad?
Can too many jokes kill…
You had me
At crack that makes prostitutes
Blow up.
Then they blew up.
And you
Just kept on
giving.
Thank you, Frankenhooker
You're the best.
I feel I need to write something about this, before its images fade, and it becomes indistinguishable from my own memories. What I’ve just seen is an entire lifetime. At first, I did not know whose life it was, as these images came towards me at a high velocity. Blurred. Jangled. Sun damaged. The faces of strangers. The shapes of rooms I have never been in. All of them, like stars or insects, either too big or too small to…
