Scott, who swears he wants to die being eaten by sharks, but only to amuse his friends, writes this to me:
"That's it. I am moving to Florida!"
"they aren't sharks dum-dum. don't go revising the dream. next you'll want to swap the heroin in our drug pact for twilight sleep. our joint suicide will become bungee jumping. where does the mediocrity end? accept no substitutes. eat no artificial sweetners."
Wise up, Buddy.