In one's mind there be rooms, vessels of every manner: bright parlors of cheerful reminiscences, libraries of sage knowledge and advice, bedrooms of whispered dalliances that elicit shy smiles. Oftentimes there be dim attic rooms where tales are told of dread and fear.

In such attic rooms monsters may dwell, two-headed beasts hailed as Dark Humor and Satire. It is these beasts that I nurture and foist onto the populace, which greets them either with pitchforks or glazed donuts.

It is you, the glazed donut-offering masses that I write for. Mayhap I will get distracted and wander into sunnier rooms to release saccharine and buoyant missives onto the wind, but it is the Dark that draws me back. The Dark is my jam.



"Is this guy OK?" – Photo by author. Dogs by whatever was running around loose.