Normally, when I’m asked to describe deputy editor Ashley Cardiff in 5 words or less I say, “Nietzsche, hilarious early syphilitic phase.” But this week I would say “Nietzsche, almost dead syphilis phase.” Namely, because of shit like this. And this.
What do you do to cheer up your pals? What did Clarence the Angel do? Suspicious stuff, mostly, insofar as he never proved that everyone’s life wouldn’t be better if George jumped off the bridge at that moment. I’ve got to come up with a plan. Here’s what I’m thinking so far:
Tell lies like Clarence did.
Buy sour cream and apple walnut pie, bring it in. Look at this. It would make anyone happy, right?
Bake inferior sour cream and apple walnut pie, bring it in.
Go to a movie, maybe?
Play “The Freshman” really loudly. That stuff is funny.
Bring in pictures of Michael Fassbender naked? That would make me feel uncomfortable, but I’m not afraid to do it. I’m a risktaker.