The Dog in the Refrigerator

People, people, people, how I love them. Language, language, language. How I love it. How could I possibly ever want to retire? Cure, cure, cure. It happens! It occurs! Sure, I'm in the rowboat with them, but they're the ones rowing the hardest, they're the ones doing the revealing, they're the ones crying the fat tears and yelling and shouting and whispering and biting their lips and their fingernails. They're the ones saying things like:

"At least give me the dignity of rejecting myself first!"

or

"There just is not way you can be half drunk in a grocery store with a member of the opposite sex that isn't just be a capital terrific time!"

or

"He's like a goldfish in a fuckin' goldfish bowl - - in one ear and out the other!"

or

"See, because I'm not crazy, I don't use a scale."

or
"Pretending to be authentic is the new conformity."

or

"For someone to say 'It's not about you' when I'm dying here. It's like the narcissism of someone who's just been shot. You've got the whole world in your belly!"

or

"The baby boomers had the 60's and then they woke up a day later and realized there was shit on the windows and found a dead dog in the refrigerator and then they felt ashamed and they said 'never again in this gonna happen' and as a consequence they became politicians who feel they have to hide who they really are. If you were a baby boomer, in your older adult years you constantly have to take cover."