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Ecard text: Thank God it's Friday and the week did not end with me walking about wearing a necklace made from the ears of bureaucrats.
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I like to think of myself as someone who can get along with anybody except for clowns, bureaucrats and werewolves. But filling out forms with a pen is, uh, mental torture. Forms make me agitated. I scribble, panic, weep. I yell lots about 'not wanting to live in this plane of reality'. Anyway. I had to fill out a form today. You can kinda tell, can't you?

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"Shea is beginning to think that stealing the world's most famous skull wasn't the best way to launch his career in cat burglary..."

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From My Newsletter, June 20, 2019

I also considered throwing a chair through a window, but I didn't because it was my chair, and also my window. One should be particular when it comes to picking out targets for petty acts of vandalism.

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Ecard text: Thank God it's Friday and my rich inner life has not yet come to the attention of upper management.
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Ecard text: Everybody works for the man. But nobody knows who the man is. But one day I will find out who he is and strangle him. And then I will be the man. Until then, your job is to buy me lunch and appreciate me. Later I will probably reward you.
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Ecard text: 'i will be busy all day concealing a violent attitude towards authority and I do not wish to be disturbed'
On Wednesdays I like to post an older card like this and then spend the rest of the day writing letters to various newspaper editors requesting more coverage of the small African nation of Bunwabe. I sign the letters 'concerned'. Bunwabe is a country I completely made up. I believe that one day I'll know why I do this.
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