Fuck off, Gramps

When it comes to the New Year, let's go with the kid

I’m pretty goddamn old. I look much more like Father Time with the last-year banner (though not as svelte) than I do the fresh-faced babe with the new-year banner who escorts him into oblivion before beginning his own, horrifyingly-rapid transformation into next year's old man (you'll get yours, ya punk! See you in hell!).

Funny thing, though — whenever …

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