Look, I’m sure in the year 1985 you can get plutonium at the local drug store, but in 1955 it’s a bit hard to come by!

You’d think an all-knowing being ought to be able to write a compelling book. Instead we get one filled with the worst crimes, yet it somehow manages to be soul-crushingly boring. You ever try to read it? Most people only manage a couple pages a day, and that’s considered devout commitment to it.

Mine was convinced it was barcodes. Standard barcodes.