I want to die doing what I love: being dragged lengthwise against the keel of a 3-masted square-rigger sailing through the Strait of Magellan.
Chaos, staggering absurdity, GIGANTIC music and baffling stream of consciousness, so subtly consistent it seems polished, that's good gravy.
Eat all your meat glue! Don't you know there are kids in China not getting enough E. coli induced dysentery?
Heaven probably has a bunch of trees where angels perch and yell shit to each other all day while God tries to sleep.
Jason Voorhees strikes me as the kind of guy who talks sports with all his friends but secretly records Real Housewives marathons.
By the definition of an infinite Universe(s), anything you imagine can and will occur. Somewhere out there your dreams are actually real.
I wish beer bottles had tiny hand you could high-five.