Randal Hendrickson

I’ll take it!

I won “Best Pose” at the funeral. With thanks to my coaches and to my family, who had to live without me while I trained.

People keep saying this. Sounds like philosopher mischief to me. And jealousy, you know?

Until now, philosophy has meant reading philosophers. I will be the first to philosophize without reading philosophers.

YouTube video by Anti-Nowhere League - Topic So What

Anti-Nowhere League walked so Taylor Swift could run.

youtu.be/JhezLSecxsc?...

I like having friends who say “I’ve been working on my book” and mean they’re trying to read a book. I’ve been watching these people. I’ve begun to believe they’re happier than I am. But so is an overdose victim. So who knows?

How many pardoned J6 rioters joined Kristi Noem’s stormtroopers?

Wearing my dead bestie’s Dirtbombs shirt for catastrophic luck.

My Boétie has been gone for some thirteen years now. Little dumbass, they don’t make em like Steve, but he didn’t know that.

Last night, I woke to a righteous impulse to enter the woods and pray. I wandered the darkness, unafraid, and found myself at a moonlit clearing. There, I dropped to my knees. I don’t know that I crafted the prayer, but I asked God to show me the one true streaming service.

One time, John Malkovich and I were in the same restaurant lobby for several minutes. Each pretended not to know who the other was. So fucking chill.

Sometimes I feel like that psycho character Christian Bale played. Batman.

“I am NOT a taker. I develop takes, and they’ll go big. You’ll see. You’ll ALLLLLL see!!!”

—me to my wife, kids, and a bunch of suitcases

Is there an HR job where you come up with all the filthy and creepy and fucked-up things you’re not supposed to say to people? I could bang that out.

That last line, e.g., is what I’d call a “Yellow Light” expression. Ambiguous but fucked-up. Especially when pointing at someone.

My man, Mitch!

“Hey, world, Secretary Hegseth, here, hairdo strong and true, Department of War (fuck yeah!). Listen up, I’m smart and have decided to gather lead and key military personnel in one location. You got that? Hell yeah. Fox & Friends forever.”

I don’t fuck with escalators. You never know when they’ll change direction, and if they stop, you’re stuck.

CHOTINER: "Hey, it's Chotiner, I was calling to.."

ME: "There's no dead Boy Scouts basement. I don't HAVE a dead Boy Scouts basement. I don't even have a basement. No. That's easy to prove false. I have a basement, but those Boy Scouts seemed...No.."

I don’t know how many who follow me on here are tattoo types. But this is a piece done by Topper, who runs Homestead Tattoo in Philly.

He’s as good as they get in the American traditional game, and everyone at the shop is first rate.

The parking guy and I came to terms and agreed he shouldn’t do his job on some people’s cars in front of them. Namaste.

I worry that the serial killer frames the kids like are too compelling on me. I’m going to stick with “intellectual” or “architect” or whatever. With thanks to Warby Parker for the disturbing evidence.

I do adorable shit like this on the regular, to keep my wife’s contempt at a simmer. Always have. It’s pretty misleading at the beginning of a relationship. I’m a fucking nightmare.

You need to forget I ever existed. It was sick of me to make you think we could have a life together.

—me to the nice stylist who cut my hair for so long

American fascism isn’t about coherent speeches. There are certainly many words. But it’s just grievance dysentery. Go USA.

My aim is to fuck something up so much that people will post zoomed-in pics of my face and say, “Why do they always look like this?”

How come menswear guy never talks about jacket with no shirt? That’s sexy as hell. And how come I always fuck up job talks?

My first tatty. The day I turn 18. “Haha. Fuck off, I’m headed to Skin & Bone in Dallas with eighty bucks.” That got me two feathers from a headdress and a pretty stupid tattoo. Ink fell out almost immediately, and I did no aftercare and much scratching. I won’t cover it.

If someone asks you to pay them in heroin, think twice about the service they offer in exchange. Authors are fine. Carpenters? Absolutely not.

I’m not into falconry anymore. My falcon is a dick. Always has to be right. But he’s attached to me in a fucked up way. I can’t live like this.

I don’t want to claim I’m extra cool, but I’ve never lost my shit at an escalator becoming stairs.

“Translations mine” = “I come from a Tylenol abuse household”