I did a brief stint in the martial art known as telemarketing when I first moved to the big bad city. It’s a pretty weird employment subculture that I am thankful to have witnessed, but am moreso to be the fuck out of now.

I used to get good numbers, rivaling some of the lifers. And I spent my entire shift creating flipbooks of people committing suicide on the little slips of paper that they gave us to take notes with, which made me quite popular around the office, for, I guess, obvious reasons.

In spite of a cockload of cockups with the site and my computers this weekend, I did manage to get this one done. Things are about to get relatively actiony and fun in the next few eps, so I’ll try to get them out with some kind of regularity, just the way shit should be.

I’ve been swearing a lot lately. I blame Kenny Fucking Powers. If you don’t know that name, I highly recommend you watch Eastbound and Down when it repeats on HBO.

Until next episode, try to keep it between the ditches, bitches.

C.R.

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