Volume 19 Issue 12
Bob Odenkirk breaks down the word "hopelessness" in this depressing-ass poem that should be handed out to college students on class registration day. Because with a degree in something like embroidery, you'll be spending the rest of your life wallowing...
Hello, I Am Going to Die Because I Killed People
A few months ago, a death-row inmate sent our music editor a fan letter. He seems like a nice guy on paper—on the other hand, he did shoot and hack a guy in, and and put them into a suitcase.
She walked into the other room and came back holding up a Santa suit. And you bet your ass I put it on. I put it on like it was my bar mitzvah suit and we had to be at temple in five minutes.
Realness, to the Extreme
Couldn’t the consistently shitty foundation of almost everything we are and live with be some kind of necessary substructure of checks and balances? Like, a carefully evolutionary-ed trias politica, in the interest of maintaining a relatively stable...