My friend Tim is moving. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he doesn’t want 95% of the things he owns. He has named me executor of his living will. I am inheriting everything he hasn’t placed in a single plastic storage that is currently in the middle of his living room.

Among the things I am inheriting is my old rundown police car, which was at one time called the Doomsmobile. It is basically a thousand times more of a Mad Max car than it was a year ago when I gave it to him. It looks haunted and insane. Tim says the car is permanently wearing a Halloween costume. It is a beautiful disaster of a car. And it’s still real fast!

He is also giving me his purple couch and his 72″ television. He says the two desk chairs I’m inheriting are worth $900 each. I guess he bought them from a failing startup for $20 a few years ago.

Oh, baby!

Hey, uh: If anyone wants to come over and watch movies on a big huge stupid TV, just go ahead and do it, man. I will commence screening new Dudes Done Wrong films here shortly. I need to talk to McCune and figure out how we’re going to run two Oakland chapters simultaneously. Maybe we’ll do one week at his house, and then the next at my fortified compound, which will be in a nearby (hidden) location?? Maybe we’ll screen the same films at the exact time, coordinated by phone, and y’all can just go to whichever house has the nicer couch / TV. We’ll see!!

As far as the Doomsmobile goes, which I will rechristen in due time: Laura has asked that we drive to some godforsaken desert near LA and do donuts in the dark. She’s going to be twenty-eight years old at the end of May, so maybe that’ll be her god dang birthday present . . . just going out there and getting real wild in the desert.

That car is going to kill me, by the way. Or at the very least I’m going to die inside of it. Darkly I have dreamed of my death inside that demon car. It is cursed and so am I. We will infect and destroy each other with our curses. We are damned and doomed and we must drive into that final midnight together. A thousand years from now they will tell tales of the sad man and his sad car, and how they lurched onto some desolate beach on the California coast and were consumed both of them by the mighty Pacific Ocean.

And on certain nights, with the right kind of eyes, and so on (lol), you can look out and see those foggy headlights cutting through the murk, way the hell down there. And behind the wheel, piloting that chariot of doom through the dark wastes of oblivion, will be a laughing skeleton in black denim.

For everyone’s sake I’m going to stop writing this now.

Come to my hypothetical house! I will have it soon! We can lean back real far on that purple couch and chill hard. God, it’s going to be beautiful. It’s going to be so beautiful you’ll wanna throw up.