apr 3 in idea barrages

So this year, I can say that I’m not going to the Saint Patricks Parade in Utica “because I’m afraid of the Corona virus” instead of stating the truth that I don’t care to freeze and then wade through vomit.

My own personal hell would be having my whole life reviewed in reverse and having someone painstakingly, didactically, condescendingly explain to me how every mistake I’ve ever made would’ve been easily foreseen and easily corrected for.

My life sometimes feels like a series of back-door pilots for really exciting spin-off shows but the premises never take off, either the shows never happen or happen without me somewhere far away and I remain in reruns of old plots.

They’re still deciding whether or not to cancel the swim meet over fears of the Corona virus. The situation is fluid.

In Soviet interactive fiction, adventure chooses YOU.

Gary Oldman in an Alfred E Neuman costume would cancel out and he’d just be Man.

Passing the ENT clinic, I always hope to see a giant tree monster but, nah, it’s always just doctors and people with, like, nose problems.

An academic fishing journal called PIER REVIEW.