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a fatal punchline

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Fact: The most popular sitcom laugh tracks were recorded in the ‘50s.

This means that the dead laugh the loudest.

Laughter directed toward the stupid lines.

Laughter directed toward anyone watching.

Toward us.

Toward Me.

Toward You.

Laughing at our mistakes.

Our regrets.

Our stupid refusal to learn from them.

Why do we choose to recycle so much trash?

Why do we doubt ourselves sometimes?

Why do we let the seconds pass, our opportunities slip?

What are we leaving behind?

Somewhere, Ozymandias is chuckling.

Chuckling at our so-called power.

How we go so far for fame that we’re willing to destroy our lives for it.


Somewhere, Ghandi is giggling.

When will they learn?

Every minute, every second, we take a choice.

Every time you wake, you roll another dice and put more of your chips all in.

Until some scientific breakthrough happens, our stories are all foregone conclusions.

But we can take control of the rest of the plot.

We must learn, or we’ll be haunted in eternal purgatory.

Haunted by the ghosts of our mistakes.

Our regrets.

Our past.

Mocking the failures of the present.

Your failures.



They roll in their graves with enough energy to power a small nation.

Rolling away, waiting.

Waiting for you to rise up.

To fight for what’s yours.

What can be yours.

The laughter roars away, and the clock is ticking.

Make every breath, every step, every moment, every damn nanosecond count, and prove those demons wrong.

Until then, bring a night light and a clean change of underwear.

*canned laughter*



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