I’m not sure that looking at 2020 from the standpoint of a future history textbook chapter makes me feel any better, except from a 1984-like reassurance that someone will be around later to write about us at all.
The unsupported use case of Bix Frankonis’ disordered, surplus, mediocre midlife in St. Johns, Oregon.
No fear, no hate, no thoughtless bullshit, and no nazis.
I’m not sure that looking at 2020 from the standpoint of a future history textbook chapter makes me feel any better, except from a 1984-like reassurance that someone will be around later to write about us at all.