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“A pint of plain’s your only man,
“Terrorism,” said the rental. “We prefer not to use that term,” said Lowbeer, studying her candle flame with something that looked to Netherton to be regret, “if only because terror should remain the sole prerogative of the state.”
Those fuckers,” Janice said, meaning the football players, “they get me doing hate Kegels. Always have.
“Markets are full of predatory trading algorithms. They’ve evolved to hunt in packs.
“My hairy arse,” said Ossian, as if naming the root precept of a long-held philosophy,
No comets crashing, nothing you could really call a nuclear war. Just everything else, tangled in the changing climate:
I’ve seldom found the results particularly useful, myself, as thematically interesting as primary oneirics can be. Though mainly in how visually banal they generally are, as opposed to the considerable glamor we all seem to imagine they had, as we remember them.”
“Conspiracy theory’s got to be simple. Sense doesn’t come into it. People are more scared of how complicated shit actually is than they ever are about whatever’s supposed to be behind the conspiracy.”
“UN’s got deep roots in the demonology.”
“You might consider simplifying your signature. You’ll be doing a lot of this.”
The ordinary sad-ass humanness of his story
It wasn’t stuff you could be ready for. Like life, maybe, that way.
the feng shui was so totally fucked that it sucked in bad vibes like a black hole.
“Opportunities to do very badly were manifold. You avoided them. The major part in any success.”
people who couldn’t imagine themselves capable of evil were at a major disadvantage in dealing with people who didn’t need to imagine, because they already were.
That evil wasn’t glamorous, but just the result of ordinary half-assed badness, high school badness, given enough room, however that might happen, to become its bigger self. Bigger, with more horrible results, but never more than the cumulative weight of ordinary human baseness.