Status Updates From Atmospheres

I’m going for the audiobook version this time.

"I wanted to make him work technical support for AOL's dial up division. But I didn't want him dead. That would be cruel."

I nodded in agreement, even though I'd never personally tried having sex with a corpse. Sometimes it's important to agree with things just to keep the conversation going.

Both cops are morbidly obese, folds of blubber bursting from the seams of their uniforms, fat guts hung over their holster belts, giant bitch tits rubbing against their dress shirts. They cut off the sleeves of their uniforms, similar to muscle shirts, except instead of bulging biceps, overflowing hocks of drooping lard burst out of the edges of cloth, like the way a tree grows around a concrete fence.

The last line of the nutritional information said, "WARNING: THIS PRODUCT MAY HAVE A LAXATIVE EFFECT, AND MAY CAUSE DIARRHEA, LOOSE OR BLOODY STOOLS, OR ANAL LEAKAGE. DO NOT EAT MORE THAN THE RECOMMENDED SERVING SIZE OF TWO PIECES OR EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA MAY RESULT." I'd eaten at least 50 pieces. Fuck.

Maybe he predicted the air disaster, but maybe the TV show did. Or someone watched the TV show and decided to crash a plane. Or the TV producers staged the accident, as some kind of viral marketing tie-in, like the time that J.J. Abrams TV show infected all of those babies with AIDS.

Konrath has just made a new fan. Amongst all of what is going on in this book, he has revealed that he has the same shitty dreams as I do! "It's always the same dream, the same nightmare, the unfinished college semester, the missed class you forgot you had....Yeah, FUCK that MF'ing dream. I have had enough of you. Thanks so much for letting me know that I am not alone. I needed that.

This is rapid-fire craziness. A blast to read.

I am loving this so far. Thanks Francis!

Nobody fully understood why Ozzy took up NASCAR racing so late in his career, why he felt a need to give up singing “Crazy Train” a thousand times a year and strap himself into a Gen 6 stock car. [...] When he plowed into wall four at the Daytona 500 going 160 miles an hour, true fans knew it was the ultimate tribute to Dale Earnhardt, and not an accident. So metal. So fucking metal.