The funeral dirge has sounded. The night has folded upon itself. The countdown to our new lives has begun to tick away, 364, 363, 362, 361, and on.

We scatter like cockroaches when the light is flicked on. I watch in bemusement as some stand, stoic and proud. "It's just another day." It's cliche, now, the uninterested observer, the false face of nonchalant. Oh you do care, we know. We know, because you make such an effort not to care.

For no matter how much you try and try, society will force the event around you. Ignoring it does not make it less real, make it not happen for you. It does, and goes on, and you'll need to accept it and begin writing '00 on your checks.

Unless you trust your on line banking.

Brought to you by:Inferiority
and the letters Y, K and K.
Metababy I
Give It to the Baby