Wolves ate even mighty hunters, for there was no honor or code among predators, and everyone's guts steam the same way when torn open on a cold night.

You're miserable, edgy and tired. You're in the perfect mood for journalism.

Writing is basically a job for people who like punching themselves in the face, I’m pretty sure.

Cheap! But not as cheap as your girlfriend.

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

I admit that I have sometimes claimed to be Batman in the past. But only when really, really drunk.

I want vasopressin, washed caffeine, Jumpstart, ginkgo biloba, guarana, and any intelligence enhancer introduced in the last five years.