Coffee shop message from an old woman, red hatted and with cane:

Fifteen years ago today a doctor told me I’d be dead of a brain tumor. It’s in there but it’s not growing, and look at me here today. Sons of bitches! Who are they to tell you when you’re gonna die? We don’t know, nobody knows. I could go home and choke to death on a Twinkie! So we smoke and drink vodka and do everything they tell us we’re not supposed to do because we’re all gonna die anyway. Fifteen years! I showed them! Everybody dies.

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