My keyboard works again!

Never underestimate the healing powers of "letting that shit chill for a while" to fix what's broken. It even works on inanimate objects with no regenerative properties whatsoever. I'm going to celebrate by typing up a passage from The Great Shark Hunt that caught my eye while I was on the shitter.

That's fine, I said. But I couldn't really get into it. I was all for it, you understand, but only on the basis of a personal friendship. Most of my friends are into into strange things I don't totally understand—and with a few shameful exceptions I wish them all well. Who am I, after all, to tell some friend he shouldn't change his name to Oliver High, get rid of his family and join a Satanism cult in Seattle? Or to argue with another friend who wants to buy a single-shot Remington Fireball so he can go out and shoot cops from a safe distance?
Whatever's right, I say. Never fuck with a friend's head by accident. And if their private trips get out of control now and then—well, you do what has to be done.

-Strange Rumblings in Aztlan