Well would you look at that. Look at us. Back where it all began. The old stomping grounds. The ol’ Substackaroo.
When I first starting writing this newsletter, these introductions were long, overwrought, deeply navel-gazing wastes of everyone’s time: mine, yours, my editors, the NSA dweebs surveilling us all… Well, never mind that shit. We’re embracing simplicity, baby! We’re going all killer, no filler. Straight to the good stuff, I say. The world already has a surplus of bloviating so-so bloggers working on some self-imposed goal of filling column inches that literally don’t exist. Well not me, folks. I’m done with that racket. These intros are gonna be lean, mean, and only sometimes self-indulgent from here on out.
Fuck, it’s already gone on too long. Let’s just get right to it, huh?
Probably bad when an ancient Japanese rock known as the “killing stone” (because it kills people, doy) splits in half and maybe releases the evil spirit of a nine-tailed fox demoness that was imprisoned inside.
I mean, maybe it’s fine? It’s probably fine. It’s fine. Good rock.
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