Welcome to Garbagetown

Note: the way this Substack usually works is that every public piece has a follow-up piece for subscribers only containing all the screams I restrained to make the free one nice and civilized and not have to argue reality with sea lions in the comments. However, this particular one is a standalone under a paywall because I’m about to talk about real people I used to know very well during the era of 9/11 and the Iraq War.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by merchants, scraped, digested, weaponized… Today, if this is relevant to you, is the final day to file a claim in the massive* Anthropic Copyright Settlement, and I just finished filing mine. Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I put it off til the last minute, and other than my usual dizzying procrastination abilities, I definitely did that because I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to face it.

Note: the way this Substack works is that every public piece has a follow-up piece for subscribers only containing all the screaming I restrained to make the free one nice and civilized and not have to argue reality with sea lions in the comments. This essay accompanies both The Good, the Pretty, and Fear Itself and What’s a Panama? (I got massively sick again, and them slammed with blizzard after blizzard after depressive episode after deadline.

Note: The way this Substack works is that each public essay, like this one, has a follow-up for paid subscribers for spicier-than-prime-time screaming. The follow-up to the last essay on ICE malfeasance was delayed by a brutal bout with the flu, several blizzards, a strike, and a major depressive episode. Plus the fact that insane clown policy keeps happening and every WTF is out of date as soon as its posted. The next essay will be a follow-up to both that piece and this one.

Note: the way this Substack works is that every public piece has a follow-up piece for subscribers only containing all the screams I restrained to make the free one nice and civilized and not have to argue reality with sea lions in the comments. Sign up to scream along and support my work. I just haven’t known what to say.

Note: The way this Substack works is that every public post has a follow-up for paid subscribers only to hold the overflow: things I ran out of room or relevance to say or, usually, thoughts too spicy to not have some kind of barrier between random click-bys and telling me I’m full of shit. This is the follow-up to Schrodinger’s Democracy: Why Isn’t Anyone Doing Anything?

You know what, 2025? Everyone hates you. You have no friends. Not only are you not invited to any holiday parties, but I talked to Everyone, and Everyone actually went out of their way to make a You Are Cordially Uninvited Forever card and the production value was actually really lovely. Embossed and everything. January seems like another, also shitty, lifetime ago.

Somehow, possibly due to various cursed objects I have unknowingly acquired over the years, I’m sick again. And I fucking hate this pigshit elemental, her stupid pig-soul and her nasty pig-fuck feet which are, somehow, the most normal and relatable thing about her. So this isn’t going to be some well-researched 5000 word essay to touch the depths of your vulnerably human heart and fill you with big feelings about humanity.

Note: We will return to politics and business as usual tomorrow. I just thought you all might like to know how the epic Oregon Tail journey ended. Also, if you are in America, you have an election tomorrow, and every year. Please vote.

Note: Usually, this Substack publishes a main essay that’s free for all, then a follow-up digging deeper, and usually angrier, for paid subscribers. However, given the level and number of threats on my life and livelihood after my essay about Charlie Kirk, in which I said nothing fucking wrong, I’m posting this main essay under a paywall, just to avoid another enraged anthill of bullshit so soon. I like sleeping through the night. It’s fun.