The number 4 hates you. It wants revenge for what your family did to it. If it ever teams up with the color green, you are so screwed.

You know how you're not supposed to get inside a refrigerator? It's not due to the danger of suffocation—there's vast amounts of air inside, because every refrigerator on the planet connects to every other, but only when they're closed and the light is out. Wait, did I say every refrigerator on the planet? There's quite a few I missed, then…

In a trailer park in Alabama, in a room with no air conditioning, there is a wretch of man. Before him is a typewriter, and every year he uses it write a new romance novel. The original, which he quit college in 1973 to write, was pathetically bad. The sequels keep getting worse and worse, featuring tentacle monsters and other foul things. He is getting old, and soon he will not be able to write any more. We need someone to take over his responsibilities, or else the unfathomably horrible will finally happen.

That other tab you have open in this browser window? Don't look at it. Just close this window and forget you ever clicked that link. For the love of everything holy and sane, don't look at it!

If you change your middle name to R. R., you will be a best-selling fantasy author.

Oh, and one more thing: Ever wonder why your body is built so that you can never quite reach that one spot on your back? Ever wonder why you always get an itch right there? I can reach that spot.