Image via WikipediaI find that the older I get, the more I feel like the guy who accidentally joins a suicide cult, thinking it was some kind of social club. I can clearly empathize with the surreal sensation of confusion that must undoubtedly accompany the man as he stands there surrounded by smiling fanatics clad in purple robes, stares down at the Dixie cup of poison-laced grape juice clutched in his hand and thinks to himself, "Did I miss something?"
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