I willfully drove to to the courthouse in Astoria today. After 26 years a bureaucrat, I always feel a sort of kindred connection with those behind the plexiglass. Snark is the name of my deceased uncle’s car. Michael Hurley, if people want to look him up. The car has squishy brakes and loose steering and it stalls sometimes and it’s a gas hog. He could’ve had a sweet purring Prius but he chose a Dodge Snark. I understand.
Phoebe Wilcox, Writing Like the Deadline is Death 