On Being Wrong (And Admitting It)
Back when I cast my vote for George W. Bush, I was 21 years old, voting in my first presidential election. I was wrong about a lot of shit back then.
I’m probably still wrong about a lot of shit now. Though less, I hope, than when I was 21.
Andy disassembled his weapon with lighting speed. He packed it away in the black backpack made specifically for a weapon of this sort. He bolted to the roof access door as fast as his little, chubby legs would carry him. He made his way through the condo/office building stairwell without being noticed just as he had done on his way up. Andy was good at his job. And for a nine-month-old baby, he was really good at it.