Epilogues: October 2025
Every October is a showboat. Not just every month boasts warty gourds, pumpkin-scented toilet paper, and toddlers dressed as Beetlejuice. But October 2025, you turned the fabulous up to ten.
Every October is a showboat. Not just every month boasts warty gourds, pumpkin-scented toilet paper, and toddlers dressed as Beetlejuice. But October 2025, you turned the fabulous up to ten.
Autumn is in the eyes of the beholder. Is it homework, or cardigans with pockets big enough to carry kittens? Is it decay, or farm stands selling warty gourds with googly eyes? Is it the last belch of the year, or a belated beginning?
The world is weeping. Our brothers and sisters are shuddering in subways, crawling across borders, bearing their children and their grandparents and their ragged animals on their backs. Are we supposed to bask in jolly cat happenings at such a time as this?