Imagine you are driving along some dark country road, it’s raining and you have limited visibility. Even though you are in this two-ton metal cage moving faster than any animal (face it, you have animalistic tendencies, you pervert ) should move that’s not what’s concerning you. Because your sight is limited further by that soul crushing introspection that just must happen at this precise moment. What am I doing with my life? How come I did drunk-pull-ups at the Christmas party 3 years ago? Why am I not a famous rock star when I took piano lessons for 10 months in my tweens? Thump. Yeah, thump! (No, not Trump, Jesus) Imagine that. Suddenly when you were approaching real Descartes level shit a body hits your car. You slam the breaks without thinking. The car stops, your hands squeeze the steering wheel. There is a body on the windshield . Now let us get real, let us get down to the real question: Do you, as an act of pure instinct, turn on the windshield wipe...
Uttys opinion on most things from the unique and wonderful perspective of mental illness and general misanthropy.