Mark Morford

Often is the question posed to me, maybe over on my Facebook page or via email after someone has made it through the messier parts of my book, but also in sundry sweaty nightclubs or boutique SF coffeeholes and therefore almost always fully clothed but almost never in a state of calm emotional stability: Mark, how the hell do you do it?

How do you avoid becoming horribly soiled and tainted, downtrodden and depressed every single day by the relentless onslaught, the endless horrors and bleakness hurled forth by the blood-soaked and desperately panicky mainstream media, inside of which you apparently still writhe and (mostly, sporadically, drunkenly) thrive?

It’s a shockingly eco-friendly plan from the world’s most toxic retailer. Did hell just freeze over?

What, too far-fetched? Too implausible? Not at all. Citizens would wail. Commuters would scream and stomp and die. But then we would do what we always do. We would evolve. Adapt.