There is that hope with feathers but my hope looks a bit like a scraggly chicken, one eye pecked out and a mangy rash on its neck, desperately foraging for seed amongst the rubble.

I wonder how love will bloom this New Year’s Eve. I wonder what kind of chaos will ensnarl itself in this year’s revelries. The hours leading up to the countdown and those first few fleshy pink hours of 2023 are critical. Critical in our human minds, anyway—Time and Space cannot care. And I wonder which way those hours will go and for whom and what it will eventually mean.

A poop before breakfast does not get enough celebratory attention.

Like the Blockbuster's of old or any hip bookstore, I think I'll go the route of the Staff Recommendations this year and serve up a list for you to read that reflects my personal favorites for 2022.

I promise to make neighborhoods safer, lower taxes, and give everyone a pony.

...that the best Christmas gift I got in 2022 was a freaking job that included PTO and benefits. Hell, I might even be able to save some cash that won’t be stolen by an ex-wife in 2023.

I don't see myself in Scrooge much—not wealthy or particularly skin-flinty with dough—and I'm not Republican in any way yet I'm finding a bit more appreciation for Bill Clinton-style centrism. For me, it's those fucking chains of Marley that give me pause.

one idea that I had was to be in the spirit of Jesus (I know that Republicans say they like Jesus). And be like Bush. You know, George Bush used to have a saying, “I wonder what Jesus would do?" Me too. And I think that Jesus would try and love the fascists.

Christmas always feels most magical when the man wearing an elf’s hat takes a leak in your CTA Blue Line car.

Ricky stood in the snow with one sneaker untied and his backpack hanging far too low on his back. His breath misted in the frigid December air. He shook, but not from the cold. His mother taught him to layer up, making it almost impossible to catch a chill.

No, his shivers were from fear. A fear he had every year. But this year was going to be different.