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Extra Evil - Whatever Sinks Your Boat
Today’s Fortune: You will reconnect with an old enemy.
Apple released a new punchline.
Saudis bought golf’s nonexistent soul.
Some of Canada isn’t burning.
We get to watch Mike Pence get Jebbed.
The Colorado River shrank to the Colorado Puddle.
If the Doom Cloud makes it to Friday, we should name it.
Everything Else, Round 9
The semifinals! When fictional tournaments come alive. Real ones peak at random, defying good structure. But proper, rigged events can tell a story.
I’m excited. With my pandering-friendly brain, the game is effectively rigged. So we’re in for Bloodsport-level greatness. Here’s Round Eight’s winner of Everything Abridged in futuristic paperback:
I’m a sucker for a brick joke. Particularly my own abandoned signoff.
Now, this week’s definition:
To be clear: define “Pain” in a comment and be funnier than other people, and you win Everything Abridged. Your destiny.
My complaints about the smell of mass wildfires feel petty. “Could you burn later? I’m trying to write my world-changing newsletter. Not everything is about you.”
I should save the guilt. Soon, the flames will be everywhere.
Work habits are a nice crash course on Pavlov. Nothing happens in my life before shaving. No words. No tempting injury. Not even sticking rocks to shields in Zelda. It’s pure zombie autopilot. I can’t start the day without looking ready to work.
Today, I caught myself typing with headphones. No music, podcasts, or hostage tapes. They were a big plastic hat. AudioTechnica earmuffs. Note, for context, that I was entirely alone. The visual cues of work had infiltrated work itself.
I don’t have a supervisor, or even a mean agent. So I suppose I’m afraid of catching myself slacking. I’m a total hardass, and can’t afford to lose this gig.
I’m comfortable making most jokes in full essays, and would throw slurs at God in a story or book. But my spider-sense shies away from extremity in these snippets. I suppose the format lends itself to levity, and eats context. A lite version of the Twitter effect.
My point? I’m fixated on two jokes about my car crash of a family. But they might need their own updates to avoid a disaster.
I should make my first great flop. A memorable artist needs one. I still remember hearing “Just Lose It” for the first time. You don’t appreciate “Just Don’t Give a Fuck” until hearing the creator not give a fuck.
Granted, it’ll probably be my second great flop. I’ve got a little more confidence than perspective.
You can’t visit Hell, but cruise ships are around.
I’m told this media riff is a little vicious.
Why not enjoy two copies of Everything Abridged?
Looks like I was featured here last year. They dig it, which is no small mercy.
This Sunday, Apologia returns to cause new problems. Steel yourselves.
I have a little Father’s Day surprise up my sleeve. I just have to figure out the timing.
The Expensive Evil image editing kills me.
One Sentence Reviews
Mech Cadets: Too safe. (2.5/5)
Deadly Class Vol. 12 - A Fond Farewell: Rick Remender might have been dealing with a bit. (4.5/5)
Do a Powerbomb!: I had a very similar idea, so I really hate this for being good. (4/5)
Leanne Morgan - I’m Every Woman: Exists. (2/5)
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