You hiding a little bit?
It’s been a very stressful 24 hours.
You slept for twelve of them.
I did not.
I’m adding up all the naps.
Oh, you try staying awake through a 44-21 game.
It wasn’t a barn burner.
Going viral is terrible and enervating. There were strange people in the Comment Section.
The Comment Section consists entirely of strange people.
BUT I KNOW THEM! These strange people were strangers!
Several of them thought they were allowed to disagree with me!
How dastardly of them.
Yes! Dastards, every one of them!
Okay, the site’s back up and the hits are dying down: you can get back to whatever the fuck it is you do around here.
I dunno, man. Maybe it’s a sign.
A sign of what?
That I should stop fucking around on the internet and do something with my–
Don’t say it.
I told you not to say it.
I didn’t say anything; I quoted the New Yorker.
Listen, dipshit: your life is your own, but shit or get off the pot. You wanna change course, then do so. Do you have any ideas?
Book on microdosing.
Die Hard in a very fat guy’s pants.
Maybe I could write for a Hollywood teevee show. I hear Kevin James is looking for writers.
Okay, pitch me a scenario for Kevin James’ show.
Kevin James enters the kitchen. His wife realizes she could do better, and stabs him in the face with a letter opener.
No. Fuck off with your whining and get back to work.