The world according to Bubba is simple - if it aggravates you, stop it. By whatever means necessary.

The loneliness of another can be shocking when it lays itself bare without warning.

Don't get me wrong, I love literary fiction. It's faux literary fiction I can't stand.

There are threads in our lives. You pull one, and everything else gets affected.

We were supposed to grow old together, Dolores. Have kids. Take walks under old trees. I wanted to watch the lines etch themselves into your flesh and know when each and every one of them appeared. Die together.

The world does not have tidy endings. The world does not have neat connections. It is not filled with epiphanies that work perfectly at the moment that you need them.

L.A. burns, and so many other cities smolder, waiting for the hose that will flood gasoline over the coals, and we listen to politicians who fuel our hate and our narrow views and tell us it's simply a matter of getting back to basics while they sit in their beachfront properties and listen to the surf so they won't have to hear the screams of the drowning.