Ugh. Hello, Coronavirus.
“You call yourself Thoughts on the Dead, right? I must be giving you a lot to do, huh?”
You’re awful.
“I am who I am, baby. I have a purpose. I know my role. I’m like the Terminator, but…nope! No buts about it! I’m exactly like the Terminator.”
Everyone hates you.
“Really? Reeeeeeeeeally? Cuz it doesn’t seem like everyone hates me. I am the recipient of so much kindness from strangers. People are going out of their way to help me.”
People are idiots.
“I know! It’s great!”
Jackass.
“You’re a pip. Anyhoo, I just swung by to make a little news by announcing my retirement.”
What? You’re retiring? That’s incredible! You’re not gonna infect and kill people any more?
“No, I meant that I was moving to Florida and Arizona.”
Dammit.
“Love it down here! Easy living, man. Real hot, so everyone stays inside and cranks up the AC. That’s my jam! Bunch of fuckers in an enclosed space with the HVAC rumbling? THAT’S MY JAM, MUCHACHO!”
Stop yelling and don’t call me that.
“I think I’m gonna take up pickleball.”
Fuck you.
Dude, you made me laugh out loud about a global pandemic. I’m not sure how I feel about that.