I’m lodging a complaint somewhere (God? the atmosphere?) because it’s snowing badly and I was planning on driving 30 minutes away to see Parasite in the theater like a goddamn civilized human.
Now I guess I’m forced to work on the chapter of the edited collection I committed to writing and reading the internet.
At some point, I would like to discuss the disgrace of The New Yorker’s Daily Shouts. This is the best humor writing? Really?