Clearly you're about to enter a mystical world of prophecy and swashbuckling, and this is prepping you for your travails.

I recognize that this happened, but this really, really sounds like Nick Offerman doing a bit.

Sneks heckin' great, but doggos satiate floof priorities. There's a place for both.

Ha, yeah, that deadline came fast! I'm trying to power through a first draft by Saturday, edit on Sunday, submit on Monday. I met Diaz a few years ago, and he wasn't having any of my early-twenties "young writer" shit, so it's like I was pre-rejected by him! It's an okay feeling.

That's insulting and irresponsible, good god. I would be furious as well. I love my record store, and they're special-ordering the items I couldn't get, but I've had bad ones in the past, so I know where you're coming from. It's awful.

"Gaslighting: It's a Gas!"

Trumpsucker, suckin' Trump

Exactly—I love when tattoos truly display someone's aesthetic priorities. I've known horticulturalists with lovely flora tattoos, English majors with emblematic quotes, and cheerful basics with kanji and koi, and I like all of 'em.

Junot Díaz is looking for dystopian fiction for the Boston Review, FWIW. Deadline is Monday, link is here: http://bostonreview.net/lit…

Tried to pick up a stack at RSD, but walked away without a thing—either nothing came in, or it sold out within the first three minutes. Discouraging. Currently on a Jason Molina kick—Josephine and "Goodnight Lover."

Replying Dark Souls, and I fought the siren's song of sorcery until level 20, then cheesed out on some soul arrows. I can't not.

There's a dude in this coffee shop with the dancing peasants/Death from The Seventh Seal tattooed on his forearm. Has little to do with the above discussion, but it's a fabulous tattoo.

Second-most, surely.

"Alright, you have a perception of being aloof and detached, focused more on arcane policy to the detriment of actually connecting to voters. You're up against a seething kettle of masculine insecurities, dementia, and mid-century-style racism. We have just the thing: an atonal, marblemouthed catchphrase that we want…

I have actually never had the Hopslam, which I intend on rectifying ASAP. I have noticed the danger of the Two-Hearted quaff (or the 120 Minute IPA pseudoquaff), and it can be deadly. There's a brewery down here that does an 8% IPA, and I accidentally drank a pitcher of it and was hilariously, giddily drunk. Oh, beer.

Luckily, my store of choice is arranged by style and rotates weekly, so I can't ever find exactly what I'm looking for. Frustrating for some, but for a sufferer of analysis-paralysis, it means I just randomly grab whatever looks neat. Otherwise, yep: I'd be reaching for a four-pack of Ommegang (or a 22).

Oh, nice! A roasty chocolate porter is one of my top-tier beers and perhaps the top reason why I savor winters.

One of their Dutch ones, yeah? A good smoked beer can make my day, but I haven't tried that yet! I'm a sucker for No Hero or any of the {BLANK} Breaks.

Good beer, but a vile label. I enjoy some of their graphic design, but the Brown Note and the Erogenous Rhone are a step too far.

Absolutely—I'm a thicker, darker beer* kind of guy, and tend to be drawn towards coffee porters and sweet stouts. Love to combine all of my vices in one glass.