Extra Evil - Shock.01

Omens

Oil remains more effective against Americans than bullets or education.

The Reflecting Pool vandal stayed ten steps ahead.

The Democratic Party locked in against the Democratic Party.

The lettuce has a body count.

Russian dashcams got grimmer.

Patreon made tragic progress imitating Substack.

Mirage

Announcements

Spoilers for centuries-old literature ahead.

Watching Cao Cao try to buy Guan Yu gives me a new lens on the sports off-season. Yeah, we all came for the big battles with the trophies and cheerleaders. At first. But if Guan changes franchises, next year's season looks entirely different. Aren't you fascinated? What else would we talk about in this elevator? There are plenty of first dates, but only one Guan Yu.

I wish the story had entertained the idea a little longer, there's some fun dramatic heft there. But I get it, the pacing here is set to photon, and there are still a few thousand pages of story ahead. I'm sure we'll fill the time.

I've finally done it: merged late night madness and early morning madness into immortality. No one can...stop...a....godzZzzzzzZ

My Memento tattoos say I promised to talk about BurgerShock, in less vague terms. The time has come.

I have some interest in audio comedy, as my super-successful and cared-about foray into mock radio ads, You Need This, reflects. I've wanted to riff on game style audio logs for a while, but had to sort out some technical details. So to check if my planned workflow made any sense, I recorded a poop joke about Bioshock, and lobbed it on assorted channels.

It seems to be my legacy.

A touch dramatic, but more people have responded to it than anything I've done, save that one assassination. But I can't return to the world of ninja, where the bloodshed broke my heart. So I'm left pondering the social demon, which has mistaken my scorn for tsundere love. It has me on edge. "Slap, slap, kiss" implies two blows are coming.

I have to credit my Berlin comrade Zoe, a student of social dark magic. No explicit threats, but she suggested that if I did nothing with this flare in attention I might have an accident. Fair. Better to have the illiterate swarm on your side than against you.

Alongside those threats, I've underestimated nostalgia. I should've guessed that a moment hungry for New Vegas anything would also be primed for Rapture. The hordes hunger for immersive sims. Or even chatter about immersive sims. If you know a lot about Deus Ex, get typing.

For August, I'm giving it a rant a day. Prime 5 AM Dennard would probably hit three a day, but I have books to write. Too much of my stupid attention span is intact.

Your best weapon against Return to Office? Passive aggression. Push for commuter benefits. An office nursery. Safety inspections.

For no reason, I'm slowly replaying Bioshock. The experience still feels phenomenal. Oddly, while my review score hasn't changed, my review has. At twelve, it was my picture of thoughtful, patient storytelling. Now I'm enjoying a brick with "THIS IS YOU, AMERICA" written on it in eagle blood. Still into it.

Entertainment

New Era Elements Tarot: One brain clapping. (2.5/5)

Flight Booking: Killeth me. (1/5)

Ultimate Luch Tres (Part IV): My mental picture of pro-wrestling to this day. (5/5)

Bioshock - Remastered: Turn off the objective arrows. (5/5)

Bioshock 2 - Remastered: Turn off the objective arrows. (4.5/5)

Casino

How to Dodge a Cannonball remains useful information.

I'm unkind to local jazz in the New Yorker.

I introduced McSweeney's to the Secretary of Fertility.

Dunk tanks have a fun history.

Nonsponsor

A development in our surprising love affair with Degree's subway installations: they mix up the headline a bit. Sparing other versions my "Sweat Central" critique. Case in point, here's the sign at Herald Square (K-Town on fun days, Macy's on dull ones).

If my dying memory serves, my main critique was that Sweat Central should really only touch one station in the city. The Focus Gods have heard me. And Herald really is an oven.

I'd say that's worth a persuasion bump. I'm still leaving Creativity at B+, since the new lingo's a little stock. But I'm a communications playground bully.

Creativity: B+| Persuasion: B+ | Sanity: B-

Gasleak

Overheard in Tourist Park.

Single Cup: I know, but I don't know. How do you...how do I prove it?

Double Fist: I wait for the one-year post.

Single Cup: Huh?

Double Fist: In like, a few months, they'll do a one-year post. It'll be less than a year after you broke up. Then you'll know he's a rat.

Single Cup: That's so good. That's so...wow.

Double Fist: You just need to be patient.

Single Cup: What if there's no post?

Double Fist: Cheaters always...they always post. Look out for it.

Postcard

Be Evil.