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Starting a blog is like putting on a new pair of shoes. Continuing to blog is actually running the marathon.

The Pith Report: People Are Too Goddamn Sensitive, If You Really Wanna Know the Truth About It

In a bid to get hired by The Onion, I once launched and maintained a satirical news blog. The plan was unsuccessful but the blog was, oddly, instrumental in landing my first job in advertising. A mix of new and recycled entries, this is The Pith Report.


People Are Too Goddamn Sensitive, If You Really Wanna Know the Truth About It 

NEW YORK, NY – I don’t know why everyone gets so fussy over a book. People are always fussy over books. But they don’t like to be called fussy. Every time some author writes a crumby book, people think they can identify with the goddamn character. Identify. That kills me. There was this one girl I knew – Wanda Miller – I used to play croquet with her in her parents’ backyard in the summertime. Old Wanda was pretty but she wasn’t too pretty. We didn’t ever get sexy with each other or anything. Anyway, it was hot as a bastard one day and we were sitting and drinking lemonade on the porch and she read me this part of a book about some old woman who was stuck in the goddamn desert or something. Then she just started crying, out of the clear blue. I didn’t know what to do so I sort of pressed her hands into my chest. Just to comfort her. I was half in love with her to tell you the truth. But she kept crying and blubbering about the woman in the book and the author, who had gotten himself killed or some goddamn thing. People always get themselves killed. It makes me wanna jump out a window. I probably would to, if a bunch of phonies hadn’t already done it. I probably shouldn’t say that. Sometimes I say too much. Don’t ever say anything to anybody. It just ruins everything.