Extra Evil

Extra Evil - Swing.01

Voyage.06

Omens

Practice your soccer grammar or you'll lose it before the next one.

Hegseth requested funding for the war he won.

The war on museums is going better.

Ahmadinejad must crush job interviews.

For a pleasant diversion from headlines, grab a salad.

Yeah, even Bethesda.

Mirage

Announcements

I've been writing about Blondie on the column, and it's been fun. Well, the articles have been fun. Reading Blondie en masse has been like drop-kicking my own brain through glass. While Darby Allin makes it look easy, he's trying to sacrifice himself.

After the Blondie finale, I've got four grenades in my back pocket for topics. The rub is that I might drive a few others insane with me. But isn't art all about connection? That's half of why people reject LLM slurry. That's just going insane by yourself.

A better human would've stopped laughing at the laxative lettuce by now. Alas. It's my joy. If the guilt gets too heavy, I'll head to Sweetgreen.

A little personal horror story.

Between fiction nonsense and nonfiction nonsense, I'm on month four of another attempt at Japanese literacy. I abuse the roguelike metaphor in many areas of life, and it's strongest here. Yes, stronger than in love or art. In love, I can cheese my way to Prometheus. In art, I'm on gimmick runs. But when it comes to language acquisition, I wipe out at the Start Menu.

This run feels good, so far. It's lasted longer than many, and there's a good balance of insanity and spite keeping things consistent. I highly recommend scapegoating a Fortune 500 school (get it?) for something you kind of suck at. It's a rocket.

Thanks to better methods and worse mental health, my Wanikani (kanji learning tool/torture) skill's improved. The current American meta is ideal for a daily self-flagellation. I'd rather double my hell reviews than jog past a newsstand. With that psychic pain tolerance, I'm finally the lean pictographic machine I wanted to be, and further in Wanikani than ever.

Or so I thought.

On Friday, I peeked at some old email. In my last run of Wanikani, I was two levels further when I crashed. I've learned nothing new. I've changed nothing tangible. All this can easily end in dashing into Scylla's fist, followed by cursing that gets me evicted.

May the gods preserve me.

I have the prank posters. It's dumping outside as I type. Soon.

My next New Yorker thing may roadhaul my inbox. If I disappear, you know who did it.

Entertainment

The Furious is my muse.

Cure Dolly: I shouldn't have expected my grammar savior to be mainstream anything. (4/5)

Patreon Updates: There aren't enough ways to ask why. (0/5)

REM Sleep: Pfft. (2/5)

Ultima Lucha Tres, Part 1: Swerve always had it. (4.5/5)

Casino

How to Dodge a Cannonball dawned in paperback.

Zak and I raced to a rival Cannonball.

Blondie and Dagwood's love fell apart.

I had fun in space.

Nonsponsor

Swingy!

From the same Taschen collection that brought us last week's demihuman.

Now, Swingy's gimmick doesn't unleash high-pitched misery, so we're looking at an upgrade on the product front. And the copy doesn't make things dumber or more uncanny. At the moment, we're leading against soft competition.

But I'm struck by the copy's lack of anything. "A dancing doll would be fun" is the idea, yes. Now find a fun way there. Or at least a pun. Barbie's tagline isn't "Girls would enjoy vast wealth."

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