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“God loves you unconditionally except he’ll set you on fire forever if you don’t love him back” sounds like every abusive relationship ever.
In retirement, the pope will continue to reject human rights for LGBT and women and to shield child molesters, but now only as a hobby.
Whenever a writer complains about deadlines, I wonder what it would be like to suffer the terrible burden of someone wanting my writing.
Woman across from me typing frantically on her laptop, face close to tears. I finally ask if she’s okay. “Oh, yes. Just writing my thesis.”
Is there anything sadder than a hipster trying to rake leaves in the rain with a broken rake? Funnier, I mean. Is there anything funnier?
My sinuses are waterboarding me today. Please make it stop. I'll talk. I swear I'll tell you anything you want to know if you just end it.
This seems to be the formula: 1) Have condescending nitwit write nitwittery about YA. 2) Receive billions of angry clicks 3) Profit.
Caller: “Hello. I’d like to speak to whoever handles the shredding for your business.”
Me: “There are no skaters here.”
I would apologize for my last tweet except for the fact I’M NOT SORRY. Get a new schtick, illiterate scolds.
Guy who eats bacon and writes, including the Skin Kadash mysteries COUNTY LINE, DAY ONE, CHASING SMOKE, and LOST DOG. Chum of The Shark.