A Sick Gray Laugh | 
"The most horrific nightmare of them all, however, is the one in which I‘m haunted by the ghost of Arthur C. Clarke. “Any sufficiently hungry God is indistinguishable from a monster,” he moans."
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"The most horrific nightmare of them all, however, is the one in which I‘m haunted by the ghost of Arthur C. Clarke. “Any sufficiently hungry God is indistinguishable from a monster,” he moans."
"(Even if some of you Giggling, Grimacing Outcasts have experienced something similar to the Spanish Flu epidemic, you probably can‘t say that you were as defenseless in the face of it as O‘Connor was. Remember, penicillin hadn‘t even been discovered yet.)"
Oh, we have now, Ms. Cushing. We have now.
"We want to find Trump in historical precedent, but he is a weed that could only have grown out of the soil of early twenty-first-century America. He is warped in a way that Jackson, Nixon, and Hitler could never be warped. The soil of this century is more twisted and bizarre than that of the past, and so it only makes sense that it grows stranger weeds."
Ugh, the author deadnamed and misgendered the Public Universal Friend. 😒
"Everyone is connected to one another all right, but only in the sense that we‘re mutually attached by a network of thick strands of Gray soul-snot."
"That first thing I see when I look outside my [home] office window is…well…how do I even begin to tell you this? It‘s……an overwhelming Grayness that‘s slathered over everything like a thick coat of snot."
