John Maler

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Statistically, almost all of them were destined to pass quietly in hospitals with tubes sticking out of every hole, or on the sofa while sleepily watching a baseball game, or in a head-on collision after deciding they were fine to drive home on sixteen beers. The world is boring, you do your job, and eventually, you die from the same mundane misfires that escort everybody else into the dirt.
I'm Starting to Worry About This Black Box of Doom
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