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A Letter to Hunter S. Thompson

Thinking about killing myself is, basically, my national sport. You felt feeble at the end. You weren’t having fun. You’d been chafing under the weight of your foul persona since the 70’s and, when your body started to give out, it became too much. However, you had obligations; not least of which to a sad little 18 year old who drank himself to sleep for the first time the night you died.

The Times I've Made Small Children Cry

I want to make him laugh, so I start loudly ranting about how stupid Yu-Gi-Oh is. He’s laughing so I keep ranting even after I notice a skinny kid at the end of the aisle with his face buried in a Yu-Gi-Oh manga, shooting daggers at me with his eyes and sniffling.