
Snail Saga, Pt. 3: Snails in the Shadow of COVID-19
There isn’t much I’ve enjoyed more recently than watching Clive—Clive Snails Lewis, to give him his full title—wrap his slimy self around a carrot.
There isn’t much I’ve enjoyed more recently than watching Clive—Clive Snails Lewis, to give him his full title—wrap his slimy self around a carrot.
When confronted with a dozen or so unexpected snails, one faces questions of moral principle one never thought one would.
Six years later and I’m still using that toolkit at least once a month, but something has changed.
myhappysnails.com had assured me: “There is no smell in the place where snails live in.”
Perhaps even more powerful than its familial themes and more impressive than its artwork and animation is how Tokyo Godfathers twists the rules of good story writing and bends them to its thematic will.
Like so many great dynasties before it, Disney’s empire is built on a chorus of tiny voices.
After all, wounds weep before they’re healed.
X is for kisses. X is for porn. X is your signature and where you sign.
I’m not scared of the gods that inhabit these places per se; I’m just wary of the humans who built them.