There was a time when everybody knew the future, but a few wise types elected to forget what was to come, as we all elect, eventually, to forget the past. Forgetters raised up many children and made songs of praising, I will lift mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. Please let me be wrong again. About that sick boy. Let me be wrong.
-Rick Moody, Forecast from the Retail Desk