Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of August 27, 2023
• A sure sign that summer is ending is your mosquito bite scabs disappearing. It’s the saddest way the human body heals.
• Having spent much of my life being told I’m “too much,” being told that I should be more myself—more David in his natural state—is a strange pill to swallow. And I’m afraid I don’t recommend it. Then again, these are strange times, and perhaps it’s time for stranger things to happen.
• We know that stress can cause cancer. With as stressed as I’ve been of late, I’m going to give myself ovarian cancer.
• Don’t feel bad for Sen. Mitch McConnell. Is it hard to watch him seize up like a ThinkPad overwhelmed with Japanese porn pop-up ads? Yeah. And that’s because you’re a decent human being. But remember, this guy built a career out of making millions of people’s lives harder, less comfortable, and scarier with the legislation he championed and the political pissing contests he organized. This public display of his demise is karma. It’s small proof that there is a god and that the universe sometimes does pay attention. With all due respect—and I really do mean all the respect due, which isn’t much—the best way for this to end for McConnell is for him to have another freeze up in front of reporters, and just before his brain completely checks out, he shits himself then drops dead. Because for many Americans, that’s what Mitch McConnell’s legacy is: a frumpy suit full of droopy skin and shit.
• And what about Sen. Diane Feinstein? Generally, we need to bring back the Political Assassination that was popular in the late 20th century. But not in the form of violence. All things old that become new again do so by evolving. So, instead of gunshots, it’s needle shots and we call it “humane assisted suicide for the well-being and peace of mind for the aged politician and the American People.” It’s a long name. I’ll workshop it.
• These Post-it Notes got long, didn’t they? Maybe I should start writing more essays then.
