Extra Evil - Handstand-Walking Off The Edge
Today's Fortune: Forgetting email tags is the path of kings.
Newsreel
Some schools blew themselves up.
Okay, fine. Anti-air schoolchildren were eliminated.
Limited strikes dragged on a bit.
Crenshaw became Flaccid Snake.
Gas costs more than blood.
RAM costs more than gas.
A Photo
Dayle's Charge
The OSU date might move–I'll keep you/the internet posted.
I've had a wonderful time so far. The Mississippi and Alabama crowds had brilliant things to say, and nodded politely while I talked.
Dayle's Charge Survivors still get half off my madness, forever.
War Journal
You know, when I jumped from Substack, I almost renamed this section "The Dayleiad." Limp joke, but it'd be less awkward today. Ah well. On with the Undeclared War Journal.
I'll rob my coming travelogue a little: I got caught on the wrong side of an ice storm on the way to Atlanta. If you've seen my other writing, you know that airports and I have been feuding for a decade. I'd talk about it more, but I took the comedians vow to only type "airport" once a month.
I've got bad priorities. On paper, I should mainly hate the LLM pyrite rush as a writer and animal that needs water to live. But I also like building desktop computers. And that hobby is doing as well as your groundwater. "Worse than" would read better, but they're really messing with your groundwater.
Ah, spring week. It used to be a season, but people like Land Rovers.
Hey, our school-seeking missiles still work! After all the outsourcing, it's good to see American know-how back in the field. Such a familiar crater. If you see anything else during the national anthem, we're different people.
Painting a new deck always dials my madness down to nine. I'm not good at it, so no show-offy pictures. But I get a lot of joy out of painting a joke that will make sense to three people alive, maybe four, and taking it out into the world.
A Screenshot
The Present
- My book really could use less relevance. [How to Dodge a Cannonball]
- The voices in your head are church-approved. [1900HOTDOG]
- Jason listens to said voices. [United States of a Movie]
- Can I got back to the cliff yet? [Expensive Evil]
- Adult humans still read the Babylon Bee. [Exclusive Evil]
- My collection really could use less foresight. [Everything Abridged]
The Past
The Future
Well, some sci-fi says we'll build giant structures around the Sun. That'll take a bit. Until then, I'm taking a slow week for some internal matters.
Dead Sun Theory
Soon, I'm still digging my way out of Email Mountain. And Deadline Mountain. And Insomnia Mountain. And—
Not Brought to You By
More tonic ads! Some of the ingredients might be addictive. Clements is back again, with a fresh offer for mothers.
Sad mothers. Deeply, achingly sad mothers.
On a strategy level, the targeting makes sense. From natalist compounds to fathers on permanent milk runs, mothers on the brink of snapping remain a rich vein.
Visually, we're struggling. The image would make a perfect birth control ad, without one line of copy. For a headache cure, it's a bit stale. Still, I appreciate Clements arming a future prank. I have to do something with this imagery.
As for the copy present: incredibly bleak worldbuilding. The customer has more children than hours of sleep, a spouse that's out to lunch, and a body catching up to their soul. Whatever now-controlled substance is in Clements has a big job.
On that note: this is meth again, right? They cured momsad with meth?
Creativity: D+ | Persuasion: D | Sanity: F-
One Sentence Reviews
Sirat: Builds very well. (4/5)
Angel Therapy: Try Clozapine. (1/5)
A Question
Signing off
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