Keep wishing.

I believe some people wish me a mute or perhaps wish an accident upon me that would leave me without the utility of my hands. That way I can’t infect them or the internet with my carefully woven criticisms and rebukes. Hate them you may but respect them you must. They are well delivered. Interpret that sans arrogance. When you see art, regardless of the content, you have to respect the talent. I talk shit. I criticize the shit out of people. I say/type shit other people think but don’t have the testicular/ovarian fortitude to express. I like to think I do it reasonably well. Some strenuously toil with and despise writing. I love it. I love delving into an arbitrary topic and seeing where you go with it. I love stringing words together that lucidly articulate the thought I have. It’s all in the details. That’s why I like science.

In summary, this is one author unwilling to participate with the Make A Wish Foundation.