The "Dog carcass in alley this morning" post

Ever woke up with that feeelin of "Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach" ringing in the back of your head? You know, like a carrion bird awaiting for food? That ominous nagging feeling of dread with no reasonable explanation or reason? when even the sugarless coffee tastes bitter than you'd expect?

Wow, I think I might have just outrorschached Rorschach. Now stop writing because it's only cool when I'm emulating Jack Kerouac or Bret Easton Ellis, but when I start doing a very half-assed mid-1980s Alan Moore, ooooh it's time to let go of the word processor...