Angels Are Just Pretty Insects.

The Medium Obscured The Message.

Well They're Pissed Off And They're Hungry. I Was Kind Of Busy Trying Not To Get My Brains Eaten. They Seemed Pretty Adamant About The Brain-eating Thing. Then They're Going To Ikea, I Guess

Moses Should Have Said "let My People Go. Please."

As Much As I Encourage Communication With My Readers, I Don't Want Reviews From Them, Simply Because I Don't Need To Be Hamstrung In The Middle Of Working On Something.

. . . And So Charlie Asher . . . Led An Army Of Fourteen-inch-tall Bundles Of Animal Bits, Armed With Everything From Knitting Needles To A Spork, Into The Storm Sewers Of San Fransciso.