The first time I remember visiting death was age 3. I fell down a flight of stairs and cracked my head open on a brick chimney. If I've really just been in a coma all these years, consider this my consent to opt out.

I think I recently suffered a horrific accusation. At first, I was deeply offended. But then? I was weirdly amused. Why? Because it meant I was right for once. (Or I've completely lost it. Either way. I'm good.)

I make recurring character cartoons in bunches. But I limit them to one post per week. And then I forget I made them. I want an anti-social VR bubble - no more tiny pangs of guilt from ignoring people!

If it has people, Heaven sounds like Hell to me. Pet afterlife is where I want to go! Which is where my parent's dog went Easter weekend. For my dad? He lost my mom all over again. And it took me a week. To get this.