The Seattle Star

Infinite possibility. It’s closer than you think. Everything you could ever want, all the sparkling desires of your heart. Just close your eyes. Imagine them here. Sun. Day. Comics.

First to fall over when the atmosphere is less than perfect. Your sensibilities are shaken by the slightest defect. You live you life like a canary in a coalmine. You get to Sunday, read the comics and then drink wine.

I can still find things to laugh about today, but tomorrow makes me cry. And I still want the Sunday Comics, even though it’s the end of the world.