Assholes Brace for the Arrival of Self-Driving Cars
The same folks who tailgate, casually cut you off, and pass you on the shoulder now face no longer being able to terrorize fellow drivers.
The same folks who tailgate, casually cut you off, and pass you on the shoulder now face no longer being able to terrorize fellow drivers.
My problem is atoms. I don't like 'em, I don't wanna have anything to do with 'em, and I definitely don't wanna be made out of them.
It's an awful feeling, receiving DECAFFEINATED espresso. Unfortunately, the world doesn't give you refunds on your feelings. I would know.
I thought long and hard about what kind of birthday message to send you. Then I waited for what seemed like decades to receive your reply.
When I asked you to read this screenplay, I was looking for you to recognize it for what it is: a bold, dark, and emotionally compelling narrative.
Just because someone had a tough childhood doesn't mean they can't go on to hold a sign at a gas station and do a stellar job watching your kids. Right?
If I push hard enough, will this pen go into my brain? Will the Secret Service stop me? There's no way I'm leaving alive; I've seen too much.
Will Marcus and Athena find a home to grow into, or will you spend the whole episode oscillating between rage, jealousy, and attraction to Athena?
It should have been easy—they're basically small, furry cows devoid of complex needs or even souls. What I could not foresee was rebellion.
Throwaways like "Things are cray!" and "It's such a busy time of year!" don't mean anything if you don't have the unavailability to back it up.
Is this a modern Huxley, or is it a true fright? Lovecraft… Stoker! Oh, such a crippling thought, such my will of darkness.
Waking up handcuffed to a deck chair and duck taped to the point of suffocation was exactly what my girlfriend and I needed to stop fighting.