If you spend enough time in group therapy you gain a kind of second sense for whatever particular ailment landed you in it. It’s akin to being in a funhouse, each mirror image distinct but recognizable enough to provide you some reflection of yourself and illustrate the ways in which, through different eyes, you jut out from the world’s flat background in strange (and sometimes wonderful) ways. My rehabilitation from willfully oblivious, difficult autistic child…

- It’s the future and they take your thumbs when you get divorced

- Evil car culture

- A man discovers Fargo was real

- A man discovers where the feminists bury the bodies, is killed

- A man who prefers rap music to Creedence is doomed

- A knitting circle accidentally casts a spell

- Postman gets stuck in yard with angry dog, forever