Extra Evil - Buzzing and Itching

Newsreel

Slash a Tesla's tires and I'll comp your membership.

I probably shouldn't ask for a raise this week.

Economists screamed into paper bags.

If you die on stream, you die for real.

The Washington Post started decomposing.

NASA might not have anyone to put in the next rocket.

A Photo

War Journal

I still live among the boxes. I wade through them. I search them for food. I hunt them for bulk pickup. It's the closest I've ever felt to nature.

Maybe I'm a box. Maybe I always have been.

Odd afternoon: I just took a test to see if I speak English. The results should be interesting. Hopefully they can tell me what language my books are in, because they throw people for a loop.

Why'd I take it? Self-indulgence. Probably nothing. But I'm more paranoid than The Question, and anti-purge Columbia affiliate feels like a wobbly perch today. I learned my lesson about procrastination last week. If I've got to move, I'm packing ahead of time.

I'm a bit tired. In the literal, physical sense, not the dark fantasy fog falling over most moods. I experience misrule as more of a buzzing, itchy discomfort. Hence signs, mayoral intifadas, etc.

Finishing this move and the usual deadlines took more than a little black magic (a hideous energy drink called Bucked Up). I'm still catching up on last week's tasks and last month's sleep. That said, I like how the doll article turned out--the 1900HOTDOG work is near and dear to my heart. The owners give a lot to make modern clownery possible.

And me buying food. I do like food.

I grabbed a tiny flag from Columbia's encampment. It dangled off a bush, with a dead kid's name written in sharpie. Rough handwriting—students made a lot of these, given the endless source material. I pocketed it, to join the thousand mementos stuffing my room like Superman's basement.

About two hours later, the NYPD played whack-a-mole. You know Eric's dogs.

Those students have everything to be proud of. After all our songs circlejerking about freedom and bravery, they actually were. I think we'd forgotten what that looks like. People got spooked. Now the campus gate looks like a trendy gulag. And smells like fear.

I still have it. I don't throw much out, which makes moving hard. And moving on.

A Screenshot

The Present

• How to Dodge a Cannonball preorders provide meaning in a chaotic world. [My Next Book]
• I had excessive fun here. [Exclusive Evil]
• Another day, another demonic doll on my nightstand. [1900HOTDOG]
• I have no impulse control. [Weeaboo Hell]
• Everything Abridged preorders give you clean heelflips. [My Previous Book]

The Past

This one's recent, but it took me forever. Give it a look. [Exclusive Evil]

The Future

I'm going to finish a long bit about weddings just to get it off my desk.

Not Brought to You By

Have you had a Schlitz? Do they still exist? My memory and the internet say the brand's still kicking, but I don't trust those two. They're almost as bad as my intuition.

This magazine ad jumped out at me, and stars Schlitz:

Harnessed withdrawal. Inventive. We'll need that thinking today to get near the moon again.

Another entry from this campaign:

Lucky guy. He almost faced his family sober.

Now keep in mind: sanity is it's own score. While it's demented to reduce The Thirst to a Looney Tunes gag, it's also amusing here. I don't know what "The Beer that made Milwaukee Famous" tag achieves out of city limits, but that's more of a personal bugbear. This is a fair joke, bleak outlook, and fun planet.

Creativity: B | Persuasion: B- | Sanity: F

One Sentence Reviews

Shaolin Soccer: Makes you feel twelve again, even if you're nine. (4.5/5)

AEW Revolution 2025: Toni Storm should ask for a pyramid. (3.5/5)

Insomnia: Underrated on the productive side. (3/5)

Cutting: Me want food. (2/5)

Against the Country: Premium rage. (4.5/5)

Mayhem: I needed this. (4/5)

A Question

Signing off

Thanks for reading Extra Evil, the newsletter going overtime. Share it for a huddle.