I have reason to believe that my plants are planning a revolt.
Staggering out of the theater two hours and 25 minutes after paying to see ‘Mulholland Drive,’ I say to my roommate, “I don’t think David Lynch ever intended to make a movie anyone could decipher. In fact, I think he takes morbid pleasure in knowing that scores of Lynchian worshippers, all of whom are apparently [...]
The Musical Biography of Quincy Jones
Assign gender roles to your various audio equipment.
Ask me to templatize my block-up flow document one more time.