Paul Pierce was visited in his sleep by a g-g-ghost

I’ve been there, Paul Pierce. I’ve had many nights where the writing afterlife ghost visited me in my sleep.

He looked kind of like me, except his back was slouched over, his fingers were deformed from carpal tunnel, his eyes were in a daze from never seeing sunlight and he hadn’t shaved in years. He offered me a deal that was tough to pass up: quit writing forever and you can retire peacefully without ever having to look at the Internet again.

But in the end, I did what Paul Pierce did. I said “no deal!” Then, I went down to my basement, turned on the computer and wrote this blog post.

No figment of my own imagination stopped me from pushing on. It shouldn’t stop Paul Pierce either.