That’s a beautiful thing, really, to know that even after we’re all dead, after we’re all walking around dead, the potato chips and rubbing alcohol and tweezers and condoms and snack-pack ravioli will all live to see another—I think I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s hard not to, so much has happe...
There’s no gate guards, the alarm systems are defunct, the barbed wire’s busted full of holes, weeds everywhere, but by God they still get those gravesites looking swank and undisturbed as soon as they humanly can. Maybe it’s all people really care about, the handful that still come to visit. I h...