Yesterday, my brother visited from Antarctica. I had not seen him since he kissed a polar bear two years ago. We went to a sports pub and ate sweet potato fries and talked about facebook. We both expressed our desire not to swell up with the aging crowd of people known as overweight Americans who are going to be thirty soon. A few times a waitress talked to us in a nice voice because she got paid more money if her voice was nice. I asked my brother how Antarctica was. He said he was tired of its gruel and was looking to diversify his portfolio. I asked him if he had killed anymore polar bears. He said all the polar bears died a thousand years ago. On the train home I read about a small misshapen idiot whose face was smeared with feces. “He sat peering at them with dull hostility silently chewing a turd.”