Of Deja Vu And Manacured Lawns

Growing up in the suburbs only to fight to become a respectable member of society as you get older is like standing at the end of a cul de sac, bags packed, thumb out, holding a cardboard sign that reads "Here". Chew on that, Socrates. Also, when my revolt against rationality is through you're next, hope. You smug son of a bitch.