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...
Most people’s ultimate justifications for selfish action center on secret longings for the acceptance of carnival performers and circus folk. People desire the approval of clowns. This is documented.
How is the health of your miniature plastic farm setup? Are all the animals still upright? Has any of the grass powder blown away? No signs of color sun fading? Did you, in a moment of panic, accidentally glue your entire miniature plastic farm setup to the underside of your desk? Are you sure miniature plastic farming is for you? Wouldn’t you rather be counting the finger holes in bowling balls? Or repeatedly counting all 50 states on wall maps to ensure they didn’t forget any? Or counting on your state-approved “Big Brother” to come get you out of this mess before you’re forced to amputate a leg?
The key to understanding the lunacy of the American workplace is that randomly throughout the day, large quantities of live snakes are dumped into the offices, cubicles and work areas. Workers and customers alike are left to deal with the chaos using push brooms and coffee creamer. The delivery system was created by some of the super villains that started PayPal. Closed circuit television systems allow bosses to evaluate worker ability and composure. Most of these reports go unread at this point, though, as the majority of the Managerial class in America long since turned to stone. More than likely a gypsy’s curse. Midnight janitorial crews have since faced the frozen execs towards blank walls. In other words: No one’s watching. It’s just you and the...
Backyard Sponge Factory Plans 25 cents with this coupon.