Today’s Fortune: Support local psychics over corporate fortune cookies.
Google laid off the second o.
There are classified documents in your closet.
We weren’t sending tanks with the missiles and drones before.
I’m down to my mass shooting B-material.
Florida resegregated history.
The Doomsday Clock wants attention again.
The Valentine’s Day displays are up, at least in the pharmacies I visit at 3 AM. I’ve warmed up to them. It’s the only consumer holiday that encourages me to improve some part of my life. It’s like if Halloween required jumping jacks, or I could only celebrate Christmas by drinking less.
Spoiler for my other endeavors: this month, a project involved me watching more reality television in a week than I normally do in a decade. And it really makes me wish that straight parodies of the format weren’t old hat by this point. I could’ve thrown a decent hat into that arena.
This should be where I say madness in the format has escalated. But is there a sane era of reality television? Did anyone watch Black. White. and say “this is a sane endeavor?” I try to keep a close eye on my panic button. We seem to have more moral panics than crises.
I did a Little Old Lady comedy reading today/yesterday (remember, I live on vampire time). There was something restorative about doing something live again, with my voice and face. Parts I usually forget I have.
I was never as good at it, but I think I’ll take another try after escaping the manuscript dungeon. Which may very well be when the sun turns black and oceans run dry. We’ll see.
On a less admirable note, letting myself enjoy my first gaming binge had a similar effect. Maybe moreso.
I don’t mean two hours. I mean a day planted before my NASA laptop, dead to the burning world. It was like sixty dollar round trip to Disneyland, pre-plague.
Going forward, I should remember that this is as much a part of me as the fancy degrees or dumbbells. Probably more than the dumbbells.
What did I play? Cyberpunk 2077 evidently launched as a broken pile of sparks, but the patched game is a wonderful techno-hell. And if you read my book, you know I’m a connoisseur. And if you didn’t, please read my book.
George Santos walks into a bar. No he didn’t.
I’m a guest on this wunderbar episode of Secretly Incredibly Fascinating. Bless your ears with the insane stream of consciousness I bring to every podcast.
How do I explain this? I wrote about a rap video by Chinese state media on 1-900-HOTDOG. The song and article are both inimitable.
Well, I guess I don’t have to write something new for the latest batch of shootings.
Support the dystopian author’s union.
This is when I’m less good/funny/deranged, but writing this piece reminded me that I could do more than commercial jingles.
I’ll probably have a nice breakfast.
I’m still eating away at the manuscript. I solved a plot problem that was driving me mad for months in 200 words and five minutes. This is a strange pursuit.
I’m bringing a familiar attitude to a different topic next month.
One Sentence Reviews
Cyberpunk 2077: Coming in after they fixed it feels like war profiteering. (4.5/5)
The Magic Fish: I’m not the target by disposition or demographic, but fun time. (3/5)
Pete Davidson – SMD: Peaks far higher than I expected. (3/5)
Standing Desk: It costs too much, takes up too much space, was a pain to assemble, and I can never go back. (4/5)
What’s the best age?
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