G'OD MORNING
The sun rises an acidic blood-orange over the blanket of snow and frozen poo(p) surrounding our independently-owned-and-operated ivory bunker/fantasy factory/time-and-love-and-music machine. It’s the same sun dawning over the rest of the world, one little combat zone at a time, and sometimes we think it’s the only thing we truly share with the deeply distressed rest of the planet. But you know what? FUCK the damn planet – it’s too late for tears, and we're outta minutes to argue with naysayers and... (read more)
