When I was a pre-schooler, my mom told me that you weren’t allowed to ride a motorcycle or get tattoos unless your mother was dead.
One day, outside the grocery store I saw a big, tough looking dude covered in tats, straddling the loudest motorcycle ever. Damned it 5 year old me didn’t go up to him and ask, “Hey. Is your mom dead?”
a magician asks you to pick a card - any card, in fact. you do. they ask you to put the card back in the pack - anywhere in the pack, in fact. you do. they walk away. ten years later, your wife gives birth to the six of clubs. “is this your card?” the midwife asks, in a familiar voice.
