This will be the year that God loses His patience with us, and it will look exactly like this. I wish I had gotten a video, because the cloud (scientific name: terrorpoof) moved across the width of the sky in the space of two or three traffic lights. That sumbitch was moving like it was late for court
For some reason, the title of this reminded me of that Baudelaire poem about getting drunk:
“…And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
‘Time to get drunk!’…”
that was the one on good friday, right?
I-)