#344: Inkwelling in Queens, Manhattanhenge was a bust & Bastille Day Sketchbook
+ Getting Comic-Conned, The New Yorker loses to New York Magazine (in Softball) & Morris says "Hello!"
I’m writing to today you from inside a tin can full of farts 31,000ft in the air, hurtling towards California…
My elbows are squished into my ribs on account of 9A and 9C hogging the armrests. They can see me typing this and I do not care. Oh, they just moved their hands. Now I’m hogging both the left and right armrest. That worked.
The baby behind me just shit his pants, and after eating airport sushi I’m about to follow suit.
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