Nothing happened.
January 26, 2012 at 6:33 am
From NOTHING HAPPENED by David Foster Wallace:
Imagine if you were at a large, fancy, coat-and-tie dinner or track banquet with your father, and if you all of a sudden got up on the banquet table and bent down and took a shit on the table, in front of everybody at the dinner — this would be the kind of look that your father would be giving you as you did it.
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