The other day, I received a plain envelope in the mail.  I wasn’t expecting it, and was perplexed as to what it could possibly be.  The return address was from one “Crystal Skull” in Chicago.  “Crystal?  Who the hell is Crystal?  I don’t know any ‘Crystal’ in Chicago,” I thought

Science fairs used to be the shit, or at least a pretty momentous occasion in our pre-alcohol, pre-groping, pre-Ke$ha worlds. Remember? There’d always be the kid with the volcano, always. There’d be some future neuroscientist doing crazy shit on her actual pet. And then there were the rest of us,