OK: I have been working on a doomsday pamphlet. Yeah. I am finally that sort of person. Don’t worry: it’s pretty funny. I mean I think so anyway, which might mean it’s not actually funny at all. (That’s why you come here, right? Comic book-level doomsday predictions? And self-loathing? The end-times prophet with low self-esteem nobody asked for?)
Years ago my cousin were talking about a thing called “THE FUTURE, IF ANY”. We never finished it because we both developed drinking problems and he fell in love with a fully grown woman who self-identified as a “nihilist” (Uh Oh) and I become obsessed with my haunted police car. I haven’t seen him in three years.
So: I have decided, for all seven billion people on this planet, that there probably isn’t any future to speak of. I don’t consider “limping along into a mass grave” to mean much else than that.
I know a good street corner near my house where I can hand these things out. I’ll do it right outside the coffee shop there. My friend Hannah gives me free coffee all the time, bless her little heart, and let me tell you: I’m going to need all the black magic I can get.
(Maybe this is how I can recruit for my doomsday cult. . . .)
Hmmm. I wonder what my parents had in mind for me on that January day all those fuckin years ago (lol)~
Wait . . . no I don’t! Sorry, Mom and Dad, for being this thing.
LOOK FOR MY LITTLE PAMPHLETS in my LITTLE STORE soooooon. I’ll charge a buck and ship em free. You can feed them to your dog or wipe your ass with them I guess.