there's no secret handshake. there's an IQ prerequisite, but there's no secret handshake.
there's no point to any of this. it's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. so I take pleasure in the details. you know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter becomes a cackle... and I sit back and I smoke my camel reds and I ride my own melt.