What’s the point of being rich and successful if you have to get up before dawn every day to answer 500 emails? There are so many other options open to you: wage slave, failed artist, cowboy plumber, petty thief, local weirdo. The money isn’t good, but the hours are very attractive.
I’m pretty sure that people who hate cities just haven’t yet confronted the fact that they are hairless pig-insects living short, striving lives among the writhing masses of their fellow swine, all of them stacked high in crudely fashioned dirt shit-heaps. Once you accept that fact, there’s nothing not to love about cities.
John Roderick. I love John Roderick.
For me, an Easter Egg is a joyless thing, as emotionally hollow as it is in life.