The hills of Morris outstretched before us, a journey of consequence this would be.
Why would I pay $13 to see these guys at a theater when I could watch them swing dance in Central Park for free?
“And then my pants deflated.”
Wait a second, it didn’t walk anything like a duck.
“Looks like coffee, right? Nope! It’s actually pudding. No one has to know.”
Your uncle learned bartending tricks, throwing shakers into the air and catching them behind his back. Hardly spills anymore. That’s just for the ladies, though, he’s really a beer kind of guy. Miller if you’ve got it, Coors if you don’t. Pays extra for a covered carport in his apartment complex. Worth it.
Every once in a while some bro-luddite, some Brooklyn lit type, some Shteyngart or some Lipsyte, some Jonathan, will say something about how headphones cut us off from one another, from the humanity that supposedly surrounds us, from the city we’re all so lucky to call home. But like, how are you…
Amazing. Vintage advertising, remixed by who I don’t know, but Sexpigeon is there and Peter Vidani seems to be involved somehow.
Thought I should come clean. Turns out most folks thought I just stuck this photo Peter took of Zack and I into an old ad, but no. My wife Jen wrote the copy, and I typeset it in a relatively appropriate fashion. Teamwork, this.
(Source: sexpigeon)
I mean, if I had $1.1 billion on hand I’d probably buy the theme garden, too. There’s some pretty sweet stuff in there.
Just saw the news on Taxi TV, the only source of news that I trust.
Turns out Ohio has a pretty boss quarter. Is Ohio a boss state? I am more open to the notion, now.
Goodbye, San Francisco! With your miracle tacos, with your drowsy sidewalks, with your perpetually open invitation to hang out and have drinks. With your startup dingbats, with your stupid lingo and little dicks. With your freezing beaches covered in dogs. Love you lots and lots, always, but goodbye.
Trail of Karp (Glitched Karp No. 3)
Glitched Karps Nos. 1 and 2
Log days.
