This Super-Dimensional-Fortress-class battlecruiser is just going to sit right here and concentrate until he gets so fuzzy-wuzzy that nobody within a 50,000-mile radius can handle it even a little bit and all activity on the planet ceases. This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends.
That Feeling You Get When You Realize You Left The One Thing At Home That You Needed In Order To Get That Really Important Errand Done Today, But It's Already 1:30 And You Found A Great Parking Spot.
Anonymous Street Artist, 2008
Some students of Zen Buddhism would tell you that a true master doesn't advertise or announce himself in any way. But then how the fuck are you supposed to recognize one when you see him?
You know that feeling you get when you do spontaneously excellent stuff like sink a three-point shot when you don't play basketball, or pull off a perfect parallel parking job on the first try, or navigate precisely to a location you've only visited once before without making any wrong turns? Every day with this champion of the world right here must be like opening up a big sack full of those moments that never runs out.
This is why nightclubs just aren't fun after a certain point in the evening. Once you've hit that spot where everybody's tried to do too much the wrong way and walks around like their brains have been pickled in booze, someone should do the responsible thing and just call it.