Oblivion is a place. No one knows where it is, which is strange because so many people go there. Many but not all. I have it on unproven but historically consistent authority that a good deal many others go somewhere.
At the wobbly age of seventy-five, Horace McMorris decided to get off the Death Express. He jumped out at 1979th Street and proceeded to walk with a brisker step and a … Continue reading To Hell With Time