"I'm in a dayroom at a retirement home. A television plays Oprah in the corner. An elderly man sitting before it has fallen asleep in an old wicker wheel-chair. Others stare vacantly, some drooling, everyone in the room at various stages of decrepitude...
...But there was a time long ago, when they played hopscotch, pin the tail on the donkey. When they swung from monkey bars, chased one another in games of tag, jumped rope, climbed trees, and lay on their backs in the grass gazing up at the shapes of shifting clouds. And on their way back from the beach or the country were enfolded, sleeping in the arms of their loving parents. Who knew that there, in that shining child, lay the future.
...And now, this is the future...
...Well, welcome to life. Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Here, have a pillow. Would you like a glass of urine? A beaker of shit? Ask me what time it is and I'll tell you how the watch is made."
- Joe Frank, At The Dark End Of The Bar
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