oversight raze when your grandfather almost runs you down in the parking lot behind some random restaurant you've never taken a chance on, he won't apologize for the oversight. he'll just laugh and hand you an illustrated list of all the things he thinks are wrong with you. beside a photorealistic sketch of an awkward lunch encounter, you'll read about how you eat too slowly to satisfy this monster of a man. there's always a crumb clipped to your lower lip after you've taken a taste of whatever meal is marking time on unwashed earthenware. he cannot abide anything that fails to find its way inside your young mouth. when next you two meet, he expects you to wolf down your food like a ravenous child. birds, fish, or mice. these are your options. you'll eat what you love with its eyes still open or be crushed by the four feet of a compact car. 260217 what's it to you? who go blather from