Friday Morning Links

Friday Morning Links

Good morning, friends. I hope your Friday and the weekend is wonderful. I will be in application go-live data migration hell. So I have that to look forward to. Oh, and my four year old apparently took a wooden block or something to another classmate's head, so he's...

Thursday Afternoon Links

Thursday Afternoon Links

Imagine this, but instead of the dog, its an inbound pile of shit, and you’ve got my today.

Thursday Afternoon Links

Thursday Afternoon Links

I hate to link and run, but apparently my oldest son was "hurt" at school. The damage report is: leg is a little red and we put ice on it. He's gonna be pissed when I tell him his options are sit at urgent care for 3 hours or walk his ass home (we live maybe 1/3 of a...

Brett set out to find America, the real America, the America of strip malls and serial killers, of butthole waxing and kelp smoothies, of cocaine and maggots. He sought it in the most American part of America—Florida: swamp gas and fever dreams, where love arrives on a rickety boat and leaves when it doesn't have the money for its fourth abortion. Oh, where has Brett gone? He’s drinking at the neck of America’s wang, chewing its foreskin and working its shaft. Brett is becoming legend. Brett can never die. Brett can never die. Brett is America, facedown in his own patriotic puke: the red his blood, the white his stomach lining, and the cold, cold blue his gas station slushie, spiked with coconut rum and tetracycline.