Extra Evil - Rain Nor Sleet Nor U-Haul

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Prayer will heal your tumors.

Prayer will pave your roads.

Prayer will deter warlords.

Prayer will immunize children.

Prayer will fund cancer research.

Prayer will save you from Christians.

A Photo

War Journal

I live in fear of Jon Stewart. He's our radiologist, and we chain smoke.

The sun! I can skate sans misery again. I've kept up with it, I've just been freezing or melting depending on the mail code. It's not dedication, madness, or hiding from my reflection. Just habit dragging me along like a small dog.

You can skip every self-help book on Terra with the simple non-insight that habits are powerful. Certainly stronger than my brain. I haven't picked up changing them easily or even intentionally yet, but they drive half of my happy accidents and less-happy disasters.

Sadly, that includes that "4 AM on pub night" typing habit I said I kicked. I lie. All the time. Even to myself! Perfect for the new meta. See Meta.

On that note: that time’s a lie. It’s 4 PM on Tuesday, and I just moved my life uptown. It’s odd—I spent my twenties in the Bay Ridge Retirement Home, and now I’m in Bushwick Day Care. I'm looking forward to coloring.

The catch? I’m on the wrong side of 4 PM, which it turns out exists. Erasing all evidence of my presence (I suspect they’ll have me offed soon) took buckets of MP, and even more HP.

But now the path is clear. No planes, no mystery virus, no landlord downstairs. Time to sprint.

Update: Guess what time it is on Wednesday morning.

Some men yearn to be ruled. I've offered them suicide-ish suggestions in certain podcasts and articles and holiday cards. I'm told it's harsh. So here's an alternative. Another outlet for dictator-lust. For relatively little money, you can hire a large, pseudo-German woman with a whip to kill you. Or other stuff, I guess.

I'm kidding. About Jon, I love the man like air. And it's only midnight. But Brownshirts should end it.

A Screenshot

The Present

• How to Dodge a Cannonball preorders tuck me in early. [My Next Book]
• No really, The Atlantic might sue for this one. [Weeaboo Hell]
• My contribution to 1900HOTDOG's Hunk Week. [1900HOTDOG]
• I wonder if this case is really fictional. [Exclusive Evil]
• I think they bit me. [The New Yorker]
• Everything Abridged preorders throw open a portal in time. [My Previous Book]

The Past

I should do silly nonsense like this more.

The Future

Poking at a short gag. Should be amusing.

Not Brought to You By

Here's a guide to making your life harder. I started the alcohol ad series locked and loaded with a fancy artbook of vintage booze ads. It was time to conquer.

Said book is currently beneath twenty boxes of garbage. I have six neurons left. We're searching"Vintage Coors Ad" and babbling about it.

Sucks. Boring. Painting's nice. Pillow now.

Creativity: D | Persuasion: D- | Sanity: C

One Sentence Reviews

Gost - Prophecy: Darksynth unlives. (3.5/5)

Unbeatable Banzuke: Putting a winner up front is nice and cheeky. (5/5)

WWE C4: Tastes like a McMahon's soul. (1.5/5)

Magic Eraser: Worth the likely cancer. (4.5/5)

Year of the Cobra - Year of the Cobra: Year of the Cobra. (4/5)

Playgirl 1970: You read it for the photos. (3.5/5)

A Question

Signing off

Thanks for reading Extra Evil, the newsletter asleep at the wheel. Share it for a wake-up shot.