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Our Disposable Pop-Culture World

Distractions abound. There’s just too much to do/look at/obtain:

And now, to sleep. Perchance to dream? Hopefully not, if it means more nightmares about my kitchen floor being ripped apart. Or creepy dreams revealing that the little man’s unruly classmate is really my other son who I’d somehow forgotten about. Maybe I’ll try thinking about Mohinder and his new abilities while I drift off instead.

old-fangled phone

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