Einstein Was Wrong! I"m The Speed Of

We Tell Our Children They're Trapped Like Rats On A Doomed, Bankrupt, Gangster-haunted Planet With Dwindling Resources, With Nothing To Look Forward To But Rising Sea Levels And Imminent Mass Extinctions, Then Raise A Disapproving Eyebrow When, In Response, They Dress In Black, Cut Themselves With Razors, Starve Themselves, Gorge Themselves, Or Kill One Another.

Talking To Oneself, I Have Often Thought, Is The Best Way To Be Sure Of Intelligent And Witty Conversation.

I Don't Ignore Continuity, And Try My Best To Stick As Closely To The Current Status Quo As Possible, But It's Not My Primary Concern When I Start A Story.

Sometimes I Pretend Not To Look At My Own Characters, Because That's Like Different People Getting Off With Your Girlfriend Or Something.

He Felt The Hot Impact Of Bullets. He Heard The Sound Of Chopping Meat. He Thought 'is That Me?' . . . And Then He Opened His Eyes.