Doesn’t that about sum the whole everything up? The whole game 7 (the lead! The tie! The rain delay! The final Cleveland home run! Then the final out!) being down 1 to 3, having the losing streak, everything.
Congratulations Chicago! A little part of everyone was a Cubs fan tonight!
Rent: Everyone has AIDS and everyone is poor
Hamilton: founding father fuckboys and everyone dies
Dear Evan Hansen: the whole show is based on a big fat lie but everything somehow works out
Chicago: you have to commit a murder to be famous
Hairspray: equality, motherfucker
In the Heights: we were poor but our dead grandma won the lottery so yay us dudes
Les Misérables: pain. That’s it. That’s the whole show.
Jersey Boys: we got famous thanks to the mafia guy and everything went to shit
A Chorus Line: literally every musical theatre kid’s life
As done as I am with the content police, I am 666% more done with the resistance police. They’re everywhere, telling me how not to respond. Don’t protest! Don’t debate the facts! Don’t call them stupid! Don’t accept defectors back into the fold! Don’t ally with conservatives! YOU ARE FALLING INTO THEIR TRAP, these strategery masters say. But the conclusion of these lines of action is to sit quietly and do nothing and meekly hope it all goes away, waiting on the world to change. Fuck that, fuck him, and fuck you.
It hit 66ºF here today, shattering a 137-year-old record by six degrees. It hasn’t snowed here in 62 days. The ten-day forecast doesn’t dip much below 40ºF. This is Chicago. In February. Everything is fine.
I came within an old man’s stray ear hair of straight-up murdering a coworker today. It would have been brutal and merciless. He was berating his doctor’s receptionist on the phone for not writing a new prescription without him coming in. Just typing that out fills me with regret for not ending him.