I'm basically allergic to grass and I've developed some interesting ways of dealing with sinus headaches, tension headaches and migraines. I love winter - when everything is dead. Please don't make me say it - don’t try this at home!

If you stare at the world too long you'll go blind - from apathy.

Once upon a time, I was not so dark and pessimistic. The world was an amazing wonder. Every sunrise was an ode to joy. And I saw each day as a glass half-full of chocolate milk possibilities. Then I turned five.

I was born with a poorly understood, genetically inherited brain disorder. Visual Snow Syndrome with Subjective Tinnitus. I see dots, hear ringing. Not a big deal. To me. But. My brain is wired differently. And always on.

A soulless corpse? Birthed imploding black hole. / Looks not for love, Cares not for touch, Needs not for warmth. Thinks not for then, Hopes not for now, Dreams not for when. / A soulless corpse? Lives apathy ever after.

(b) Ahh, the romanticization of the black death. And those funny flagellants. I don't know for sure what people in 100+ years are going to think about us when they look back. But it ain't gonna be purdy.

Given my present outlook for humanity - it is probably a good thing I do not have access to WMDs. Are we a lost cause? Just in a slump? Do we have any redeeming qualities? Or maybe ... we need some qualifying analysis.

It's Silly Sunday! With a rare surname, I have it easy when it comes to social media, skype, blah, blah, blah. A boring first initial and last name. Or my email. So. I'm not hard to find. Unlike any John Smiths born in 2022.

Waiting at the barbershop, I read an article about the experimental treatment for leukemia. And pondered. What if everything could be cured? And thought. I don't have the desire to live five more months. Let alone forever.

The cadaver business during the heyday of anatomy research operated much like some shady scrap metal dealers. Except back then you got a “twofer”. You committed the crime and you got rid of the evidence – for a profit!

The “Unknown”. As primitives? ‘Twas. A time. The moonless night. A place. The oceans deep. A cause. The lifeless soul. But fight or flight fails. Fools. When we face that beyond fear. Folklore. Fantasy. Conspiracy. All … the same.

Okay. Just in case some "Star Trek" haters stumble upon THIS – I shall explain. The scene: a morgue. The characters: two coroners named Leonard and James with some random dead guy in a red shirt (it would take awhile to explain that part). Anyway. It's mocking a common refrain from Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy to Captain James T. Kirk – "He's dead Jim".