Author of many miserable stories. Just like yours.
Hey, you know I love comic books, right? (I was Reviews Editor for the legendary comics-focused website PopImage for about four years in the early 2000s, and Prom on Mars actually started as a webcomic on that site before it morphed into this.)
So anyway, I come back to my fanboy roots in Part 1 of this new Eggheads Podcast talking with prime Egghead Pablo Solano about Infinity War, Adam Warlock, Kirby, the New Gods, and much much more. Check it out!
Is it just me, or do the latest election polls look like Professor Wogglebug?
Can you please stop with your back-to-school ads already? I hate back-to-school. I have two weeks left of summer and I’d like to enjoy them sitting on my back porch getting drunk, doing nothing, and not hearing about back-to-school all the time. I don’t care that this is your big pre-school sales season and that you will lose this incredible opportunity to sell Dora backpacks and Bieber pencil sets by the truckload. I don’t care. This is still MY summer. And your back-to-school ads are pissing me off. I hate back-to-school more than my kid and I’m not even in school.
So, if you could please wait until after Labor Day – maybe around Halloween – to start putting your back-to-school crap on every object everywhere at all times that would be really really excellent.
Thank you.
Famed inventor Harvard Kleinman came out of retirement Sunday to celebrate the 70th anniversary of his illustrious K-Rope. At a special ceremony held at Newark Penn Station, Mayor Booker praised the apparatus, citing its historical impact on transportation in Newark, the United States, and across the globe.
Can finally let the dog grow his hair back out.
Not so much incentive to continue chlorinating the pool.
Great chance to see new Fall TV lineup before all shows are cancelled.
Excellent chance to catch up on moping.
Shorts with Velcro no longer ruining all clothes in the laundry.
High holidays always a rockin’ good time.
Less arguing with loved ones re what constitutes sweltering.
Neighbor had way more fireflies than you.
Couch occupied by children miraculously available again.
Harvest season looks promising.
Good time to stock up on batteries for upcoming hurricanes.
No more distracting, scantily clad women everywhere, all the time.
Great opportunity to pro-actively lower expectations for upcoming basketball season.
Irritation over everyone saying that went way too quickly! starting to diminish.
Thrilled to see Congress back in session and really getting some work done.
Not as concerned about whether or not people are effectively recycling their 3-D glasses.
Never had a tan, and don’t care anymore.
Not so bad if you’re an infant.
Reality that we adults never actually had the summer off abundantly clear now.
A few summers ago I was briefly obsessed with trying to get a crossword puzzle into the New York Times. I submitted two and then called it a day. For the one below, I did get a nice response from Will Shortz’ assistant telling me that “Not everyone would remember this hit by the Zombies, and for anyone who doesn’t, the theme wouldn’t be much fun.” So, this is for all of you folks who remember hits by the Zombies. Especially, this one.
ps – this puzzle was meant to be a Thursday puzzle for the NYT, and as such has a (somewhat difficult) gimmick. This puzzle makes no bones about being in the same league with the truly excellent puzzles presented in the Times. This is just the one I made. Answer is posted below.
“Of late, I’ve lost all my mirth,” said Joe.
“Did you look in the closet?” asked Frank. “There’s a ton of mirth. Maybe yours is in there?”
Don’t eat any wooden nickels.
You have to burn a lot of bridges to make an omelette.
The suspense is mildly annoying me.
It’s like pulling teeth from a baby.
Don’t put off till tomorrow what you can do next week.
“Trouble’s” my maiden name. I kept it after the wedding.
You made your coffee and now you’ve got to sleep in it.
feel free to add your own…
But now I just want to be 20. That, in and of itself, would be a superpower.
Oh you can fly, Superman? I’m 20. Eff you.
Alex Bernstein 