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Today’s Fortune: You are what you eat. Only eat people you admire.
Kyrsten Sinema finally hit the punchline.
Polls says editors want more polling articles.
Twitter records revealed that no one reads past headlines.
Kevin McCarthy swore to impeach a windmill.
I heard “Avatar” and “water” and expected vastly different franchise news.
Fusion researchers inched closer to forcing sci-fi writers to find a new plot hook.
My old laundromat was open 24 hours a day. Ideal for me, as someone that finishes these newsletters ten minutes before you get them. It had one flaw: a Guitar Hero arcade cabinet stuck on a demo video of “Slow Ride.”
I heard “Slow Ride” while folding. I heard “Slow Ride” while watching laundry spin. I heard “Slow Ride” while sending texts pulling out of marriage fraud. Each play shaved off a small piece of my brain.
“Slow Ride” might be fine song. I can’t judge it objectively anymore. I associate it with the audio equivalent of water torture.
At least, the civilian edition. Evidently the government combined sleep deprivation with Metallica. I hope, if nothing else, that our war crimes used pre-Load material.
We’d all get along better with less filler. Take small talk. How much accidental insult comes from one party searching for something, anything to fill air?
My family’s Jamaican, and I used to get huffy about requests for patois. Then I turned sixteen, and gained just enough social skill to detect an awkward silence. And that request generally followed one.
He just said he’s Jamaican. This concert doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. God refuses to either kill me or let me sprint ahead in time. Do I ask about the funny island words, or request drugs?
It was for the best. I never had any brain candy.
Halo Top will single-handedly impoverish me.
My laptop’s growing a willful shift key. It’s starting to make me look like my graduate school had a ball pit.
I made a very elaborate parody of that one evangelicalOnion clone.
Get ready to learn far too much about Vegemorphs.
Another lucky New Yorker volley.
I like that satire quiz too much not to keep shilling it here.
I have an article coming out tomorrow, and the concept makes me smile on autopilot.
Chipping away at the longer projects. It just costs a little sanity.
My next 1-900-HOTDOG column has momentum.
One Sentence Reviews
Costco: I am now old. (4/5)
NXT – Deadline: The match format that sounded beyond convolution landed on its feet. (3.5/5)
Vegemorphs: You might’ve guessed. (1/5)
What’s the worst deadly sin?
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