Humans put far too much trust in paper placemat activity designers. No, really, statistics bear this out. If you’re alert you’ll notice that contemporary Word Search sections feature blocks of nothing but the letter “F” and Spot the Difference games single out cartoon turtles with fringe political sympathies, at least in the earliest stages.
Author - Chris Weagel
Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.
Around these parts, the middle of June is known for an increase in pet drownings.
Pools are starting to open, it’s very easy to make it look accidental.
Intentional pet drownings. People are murdering their pets on purpose. Just like the tourism section on the city’s web site, I should’ve made that clear. Citizens’ resentment of their animals’ pampered existence grows with the temperature.
That’s why come winter people bankrupt themselves buying herds of guinea pigs and mole rats.
Thinking it through, it’s not entirely wrong to wish cancer on someone. Or their wife. And their children. Ultimately you only get so many wishes. You’ve got to make them count. Destroying your enemy and his lineage in a painful and untraceable way is a good use of one or two wishes that you probably would’ve wasted on becoming an expert hang glider or being able to read your pets’ minds.
You can always get a book for that.
Real satisfaction comes from using the magic powers of an arabian genie to make a face-enveloping, purple and pink, wart-covered tumor grow out of the forehead of Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker while he’s being fellated on CNBC.
That’s real reform.
New census data confirms my long-held suspicion that every third house on most blocks is totally devoid of human life and is instead packed from floor to ceiling with snakes.
Yes a law banning picnic tables. Privately owned and public. Effective immediately. With existing stock to be disposed of through inter-county auction and manually pushing them just over municipal borders, then looking in the opposite direction or otherwise pretending they do not exist. This is how we choose to live our lives. This is how we exert control. We are subjugated and must subjugate in turn. How else to maintain the illusion of freedom? Of autonomy from our masters? Something has to keep us going. The thrill of outlawing gay marriage has worn off. We’re forced, due to lack of focus, to contend with the reality that dogs, through simple ignorance, lead richer lives than us, their supposed masters. They will never know how foolish they are and thus are free. We, ultimately...
In response to the proposal of 24 hour/day, 7 day/week Televised Nuremberg rallies, the best Americans could do was shrug and ask, “What could go wrong?”
Utica Tomagotchi is now speaking. He’s speaking to an audience of one: You. Utica has a message for you. It concerns the assassination of your household appliances. He’s giving you an excuse to use your training. He reminds you to keep emotion out of It. This is a practical matter. If you want to move forward in life, you’ll have to do it without a toaster oven. You don’t need the portable foot bath pan where you’re going. (He says you’re going to Switzerland, but that’s irrelevant for our purposes.) Utica explains that without anyone else in the house, no one need find out. You’ll live as a Shaker from now on, but that’s OK. It’s what you want, right? The indulgence of convenience keeps you soft. One bullet through the automatic...
It’s been a somber June 2, here in Southeast Michigan. The cloudy skies and low temperatures have returned. People are staying in and holding onto their children a little tighter when they do go out. Tonight, amidst the low rumble of horizon traffic and the errant bottle rocket pop, a steady, sharp crack is heard. It’s off in the distance, sorta up and to the left. But it also sounds very present. It sounds like it’s right here. Or it’s almost here. I did some research, made a few calls. It’s confirmed. It’s the sound of the damned tunneling their way out of hell. It’s taken them eons. But as time went on, their ranks swelled. Each black soul doing its part. Pushing and scraping and clawing against the rock. 1800km to...