Skizzleplex! (what you’re missing)

Well, you may have noticed I don’t post that often and if I do, the posts are kinda thin. To be honest, I’m sorta burnt out on blogging.

Putting hard work into something that seems so disposable to most people can be taxing on your motivational sub-cortex. I get about 500 hits a day on this site, but most of them seem to be from people searching Google images to find pictures of Alf or a Samoyed.

In response to this, I’ve taken a giant step backwards into the world of PRINT JOURNALISM!

I now publish my own newsletter/zine/magazine/periodical called “Skizzleplex“. Astute readers will recognize that I posted a blog with that name a while back, but basically it’s just a name I liked and had bought a domain for, so I decided to call my newsletter that.

Anyway, you might be asking what Skizzleplex is? It’s basically a short “comedy” newsletter that’s about 7 to 8 pages long. It consists of short stories (the kind I would normally put on here), clip art of dubiously trademarked sources and random stuff. I also, occasionally, feature a guest writer like John Marshall (the Chris Rock Show) and Kyle McCulloch (South Park).

I have to admit that it has invigorated me. I feel like I did when I started this blog. So I’m sure it won’t be long before I’m burnt out on this too.

Now you might ask yourself, “How do I get Skizzleplex?” Well, it’s easy.

You can send Skizzleplex an email at skizzleplex (at) yahoo (dot) com and request a copy.

At this point, you might be seeing the huge flaw in my plan. Namely: this costs me a lot of money. But that’s kind of the point.

You see, I’ve come to realize that the biggest benefit of a blog being so free and so easy, is that the majority of people don’t feel like investing that much into reading it, with a few notable exceptions. You know who you are and I thank you for your support.

On the other hand, paper costs money. Printing costs money. People recognize this and suddenly your writing becomes worth something. Maybe not enough to pay actual money for, but enough to invest some time and effort into actually reading.

And the biggest expense turns out to be actually mailing this crap out to people.

So, if you have access to a printer and want to save me some money, you can let me know that and then I will send you a .pdf copy through your email. It will print out exactly like the ones that I send hard copies of and it works on any computer in the world, there is no special software involved. Well, maybe it won’t work on Windows ME or something, I don’t know, but grow up.

If you don’t have access to a printer or you’re a jerk and just feel like sticking it to me, that’s fine. I will mail you a hard copy through the good ol’ (not really) USPS.

Below, I’ve attached a story from my latest issue, so you can see the kind of things I’m writing and sending out to people all in the name of anachronism. And remember, if you like what you see, you can always friend Skizzleplex on Facebook. Plus, if you’re really a tool and don’t want me even having your email address, you can always wait it out until I put the old issue up on the Skizzleplex Archive.

So that should about cover it! Hopefully, I will be hearing from you soon because you want to sign up to receive (the .pdf) of Skizzleplex!

Story Corner

My dad doesnʼt trust the government, so when I was a kid, we never had trash service. He got in this big fight with the town, because they said it was a rule that everybody had to have the sanitation department dispose of their refuse. His answer to this was to just stop paying taxes. Eventually, they worked it out and then the garbage men would just skip our house. In addition, he said he didn’t want any goddam Gypsies picking through our stuff, so we also couldnʼt just take it ourselves to the dump. So every week, me and my dad would take our trash and we would go out in the van, late at night. We’d find a lonely stretch of interstate and it was my job to push the garbage through the hole in the floor of the van that my dad cut out. I had to gingerly dump out the contents, a little bit at a time. It would take hours! Iʼd always be real tired the next day at school. My dad said it was the original form of recycling because the other cars would run over the cans and stuff and then everything would get pushed to the side where they had people come by and clean it up every once in a while. He said thatʼs what taxes were for. I didnʼt dare point out that he wasnʼt even paying taxes at the time, cuz he kinda had a short fuse. One time I asked why we couldnʼt just take the bags and ditch them on the side of the road somewhere. He got real mad and yelled at me and was like, “What are we, animals?” And that was the best summer ever!


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