good morning sinners. vampiric red bull intake in pub smoking compound commenced. day of heavy brain-fingering ahead.

My neck and shoulders are killing me. Hard to focus on writing about murder, doom, shagging, our hopeless future & other comedy etc etc.

He was in blue jeans and a work shirt, which is another weird quirk of Rich Old Men. Just one of the guys here. Blue jeans and a work shirt, salt of the earth, working man like yourself. Like they're somehow uncomfortable about being rich enough to sleep in a bed made of vaginas being pulled around the town at night by a fleet of gold-covered midgets.

Stephen King says that if you forget an idea, then it can't have been any good. He means he, not you. You are not Stephen King. Do not attempt to emulate Stephen King at home.

What? I bring joy to the world. I am filled with mirth and sunlight. Also, I am Batman.

By four o'clock, I've discounted suicide in favor of killing everyone else in the entire world instead.

Read comics. All comics. And then cut them open to steal their power.