Wednesday, December 27, 2017

18 Resolutions for 2018

It's resolution time for the world. It's a time where we all sit around the family table with a pencil in our hand writing down all the promises to ourselves that we're going to erase at the stroke of midnight on January 2018.

Don't believe the idiots on social media that will proclaim to live their best lives this year. That doesn't mean anything. They're going to fart themselves to death under a pile of Cheetos dust while watching MSNBC and getting a brand new hemorrhoid any time anyone mentions Bernie Sanders or Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton.

2018 is going to be more of the same folks. The same battles re-fought, over and over again, until we're blue in the face or until Donald Trump is Forevemperor of America or he is in Guantanamo Bay. Hell, maybe we really screw things up by having both!

I don't doubt anything anymore, folks. You tell me conspiracy theorists are going to deny the existence of an alien alloy and a government plot to cover it up once it's reported by the New York Times... wait, that already happened?

It's bizarro-planet folks. We're on Planet X and Planet X doesn't occupy a physical space, it just occupies the small tumor on our brain that's gone undetected for too long and will soon kill us all.

Anyways! Here's 18 resolutions for 2018.

18. I promise never to lift my ass up when farting in the car while the heater is on and locking the windows to telegraph that I'm about to commit a war crime and blame it on the dog. I swear.

17. I promise that when I pick my nose, I'll roll up whatever I found in there and stick it behind my ear to chew later. I'll never do it in front of anybody again.

16. I'll always pick my dog's shit off my neighbor's lawn and put it in their mailbox. It's good for the environment.

15. When somebody tells me they like Dan Brown, I won't make fun of their taste in music to make them feel stupid about everything. (Hey! Robert Dean! It's not 2018 yet so take that!)

14. When somebody tells me their kid did something like put ketchup and mustard on something that those are natural condiments on, I'll stop saying, "Oh, but I bet you had to cut it up into little pieces so they don't choke. Not so fucking smart. Get out of my face."

13. I'll never write a list longer than five deep. This sucks.

12. Whenever somebody tells me P. Terry's is better than In N Out, I'll just tell the truth: "Our allegiances say more about the efficacy of corporate marketing than it does about our tastes. Sure, these companies are different in terms of size and scale but in the end, their goal is to separate us from our money to provide an addictive food with very little nutritional value. You can say "Go Local" or "In N Out pays their workers very well" but you can also just note that those are effective marketing tactics to reach a certain type of consumer. And it works. We are all slaves to the system.

11. I went to a Starbucks the other day because I had to. I was on the road and I wasn't driving and it was the only place to get coffee without pulling out Google Maps. I looked at their espresso machine. The only human interaction the barista has with the machine is pushing a button and dropping a cup underneath it. They don't weigh their beans, they don't tamp, they don't do anything. It's like watching a glorified Keurig machine. I looked at the beans. They were dark and oily. I had a sip of my coffee. It tasted like California wildfire. It's also considerably more expensive than decent coffee. I don't get it. But this is the future we are living in. Keurig machines are creating overpriced coffee so that people can wear t-shirts that say, "Don't fuck me until I get my coffee."

10. Target now forces you to go into the self-checkout line. There are big monitors above every register and it has a blink graphic that says, "Monitoring in Progress." I would take selfies all the time in it because I thought it was hilarious. Then I looked at Instagram and everybody fucking does that. We're all joking with a faceless corporation that only asks of us our obedience.

9. I promise never again to ask somebody who has a beard that comments on my mustache, "Yeah, when are you going to take off your training wheels?"

8. I promise never to skip a number in a long list just to get to the end more quickly.

6. But that is next year. This is 2017 and anarchy still reigns supreme.

5. I'm going to buy more small press books. I buy a considerable amount now. But I'm going to buy more. I know it will take me awhile to get to the bottom of my "To Read" pile, especially as it keeps growing, but the best stuff I read this year was from the small press. Everyone should do it.

4. When someone wears a Hawaiian shirt I will stop saying, "I didn't know you played bass in a ska-punk cover band," or, "Congratulations on the promotion to bowling alley assistant manager."

3. I canceled Spotify because it's a terrible way to listen to music. I find myself listening to the same song over and over again and it is mind numbing. Nothing is important when everything is available. I will never listen to music again. I promise.

2. Who are the fucking people in the world that get on their knees to lock a public restroom stall from the outside so that nobody can walk into it? I work at a bar/coffee shop and this happens often enough to wonder if this is part of the psychopath test. I'm going to find you in 2018.

1. I'm going to write more. I'm going to read more. I'm going to draw more. I'm going to walk more. I'm going to unfollow the people I follow to just get irritated by. Goodbye 2017. You were a bummer but you were also kind of great. Just like everything else in the world.

There's a new Deerman here.

Listen to me read an excerpt from my work in progress, The Pasternaks, here. 

Books and Beer: Episode 2 is here. 

Buy a Deerman shirt

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Post Thanksgiving Stomach Jam Podcast

Hello, world.

Big, cool stuff right here! Zach Chapman, Miguel Villa, and I started a podcast called Books and Beer. Each month we explore different subgenres/tropes and read a shit-ton while drinking beer. It is part of the One Of Us podcast network and will be a monthly show! The first episode is haunted houses. Take a listen on over there now!

Also! The new Deerman episode is up for patrons. Non-patrons get it next week! Become a patron today.

Just in time for the holidays, buy somebody you love or are indifferent towards a Deerman tshirt. Get it here.

There's more to say, folks. I just wanted to update you with that stuff. Until then, please enjoy a Family Circus cartoon. More to come shortly. 

This fucking asshole doesn't update his calendar.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Game 7. The Dodgers. The World Series.

This World Series has been absolute magic.

These two teams have gone head to head, back and forth, trading leads, emptying out their tanks every night and it has been euphoric to watch as a fan.

I have been a Dodger fan all my life. I'm not going to pretend that I have this wealth of baseball knowledge, I'm not going to pretend I can recite stats, or whatever. But I can tell you that much of my childhood is colored by Dodger blue.

My grandpa, Larry, was an avid baseball fan. He had season tickets to Dodger games and he and my grandma, Donna, would take my brothers and I often. When we were in fifth and sixth grade, discovering music, we would try to sneak AM/FM Walkmen into the game to try to liven it up with Power 106 or 92.3 The Beat. His rule was, if you're listening to anything but Vin Scully while watching the Dodger game, it's getting turned off.

We didn't think he'd actually check. But he did. And he turned it off often.

This is not a bad memory. This is a good memory. He wasn't religious but he understood the merits of boredom. You have to be present for life's moments. You also don't want to get hit in the face by a foul ball in the orange lodge seats, right field side.

Just how often my grandparents picked us up for games is astounding when I think about it. So much of our young lives were spent at Dodgers games. I'd get ice cream malts and peanuts, Dodger dogs and more peanuts, cotton candy and more peanuts.

My favorite players moved from Orel Hershiser (that one was easy, I was 2 when he was the hero and the glow never left him), Eric Karros, Mike Piazza, and Raul Mondesi over the years. I saw myself as a catcher when I was a kid even though I never played the position. I was a wimp. I couldn't handle the stress of guarding the plate. I was so untalented defensively that I was relegated to right field or left field where I would just throw my mitt in the air out of boredom. That's why I chose Raul Mondesi as my favorite player as my Little League career stagnated. I was a decent hitter, though. So was Raul.

When my grandpa was killed by a drunk driver in August of 1998 while my brothers and I stayed at his house, the Dodger game attendance slowed down. We no longer had season tickets but we continued to watch on TV and listen on the radio. Every year was our year. And we came close a couple of times. We continued to go to Dodger games as often as we could which wasn't very much.

When my wife and I first started dating in 2011 on our very first trip back to California to visit my family, we went to a Dodger game. I remember saying to her jokingly, "I am okay with you not being a Lakers fan but please, please, please be a Dodgers fan." I bought her a Dodgers hat before that trip.

We're married now and she regularly updates me on the score when I'm at work and don't have time to devote attention to games. She's become quite the Dodgers fan.

This year my mom texted my brother to tell him she bought plenty of beer for game 1. He didn't have to buy any. If you know my mom, you know this is crazy. She doesn't drink and she certainly doesn't buy beer for anything. When my brother got home to a house filled with 10 people, my mom had purchased a 6 pack. Baby steps.

This World Series is different. This World Series is exciting. When I'm watching the Dodgers and the Astros go toe to toe, I'm filled with excitement and I can just imagine being a kid and watching this series. I can just imagine how my grandpa would feel. I get glimpses of his spirit here and there through pictures of my dad and my brother attending game 2.

When I was in college, the bunny ears would be tuned to Dodger baseball constantly. James Loney was group favorite at the time. We were good in those years, too. Those years felt like our years. Elizabeth, Jack, and I watched a hell of a lot of them in our apartment on 10th and Stanley in Long Beach with our friends coming in and out to drink cheap beer and play ping pong. Shortly after college, I remember my friend, Mark, calling me to tell me to turn on the game. The game was already on, duh. He was behind home plate waving at the camera. I don't know how the hell he got those tickets but I know I took a picture of it on some janky digital camera that is lost forever. 

This year, I went to a Buffalo Wild Wings for the NLCS because I couldn't be sure any local joints would care about the Dodger game nor could I be guaranteed anyone knew how to change the channels. I'm positive that's part of the training course at Buffalo Wild Wings. Nina and I were the only people watching the biggest screen as the Dodgers put away the Cubs.

Now picture this: a man freshly shaved with a brand new devastating mustache with his wife over four or five empty baskets of chicken wings wearing Dodger blue as the rest of the crowd watches the Kansas City Chiefs vs. the Raiders. Picture this man weeping in joy at a gosh darn Buffalo Wild Wings. It's pretty sad, right?

Now picture this same man in his Dodger blue pajama pants, hunched over a keyboard, weeping in joy at the mere thought of tonight's game 7.

Win or lose, this series has been incredible. This series encapsulates why baseball is America's sport.

Go Dodgers.

Post-script: one of my first decent stories featured Orel and Kershaw, named after two Dodgers from different eras. Read it here

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Deerman, Digital Media Ghost, Quizzleboon


Deerman, Episode 5 is live for patrons right now. Next week, it'll be live for the whole world.

Will Viharo asked me a few questions for Digital Media Ghost. Read it here! You should also buy Will Viharo's latest book here.

I'm currently reading Quizzleboon and it is hilarious. You'll love it. Trust me. It's great. Go get it.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Deerman Spooktacular: VOICE OF GOD is live!

October is the spooky month. October is the month to revel in horror. Welcome to the Deerman Spooktacular.

Our first story, on the eve of Friday the 13th, is VOICE OF GOD. Enjoy! You can purchase the chapbook it was included in here.

Please consider becoming a patron! You get early access to all Deerman episodes and Inbetweeners!

Listen to Voice of God on Patreon or listen on PodBean or YouTube below.

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

The Post Office is terrible

Allow me, friends, to vent.

The US Postal Service wants to ruin my life.

A little while ago, a month to be exact, my mailbox was broken into. This should strike you as odd because there's no reason anyone would ever want to break into my mailbox. I have nothing that is useful to anybody. This blog should be resounding proof of that. Well, my neighborhood has these mailboxes that are really everybody's mailboxes. It's a locker system. It stinks.

I know why that's there. It's Texas. It's hot. Going door to door will cause a person to sweat through their own personhood. It's being controlled by a Congress that is inept. Many of the problems that face USPS today are not of its own making. I understand.

I do not understand the USPS system to report a broken into mailbox. You call the postal inspector at 1-877-876-2455. You have to speak your answers into the phone. You don't hit a number like the good old days. You don't speak to a human like the gooder old days. You have to speak to a machine that is wet-brained. The machine understands 10% of the time. This happens.

But do you know what happens when the machine doesn't understand? It HANGS UP on you after saying, "I didn't understand your answer. Goodbye." It doesn't start from the very beginning. It doesn't keep trying in an endless loop. It doesn't give up and call a human. It just fucking hangs up.

I was so pissed after the fourth time this happened that I shoved my phone down my throat and tried to see if shitting it out would help me. A bowel obstruction and an anger management class later, I'm still drinking smoothies with no help to my lack-of-mail situation.

It's been a month and the mailbox still hasn't been fixed. I go once a week to pick up my mail at the post office. This would be great if the post office was a mile away. It's 20-30 minutes away in Austin traffic. Nobody knows when the mailboxes will be fixed. There's a spate of mailbox theft going around in Austin.

To make matters worse, my HOA is charging a late fee for a bill that was sent during this period. It is the only bill sent to me in my name but we're apparently a year behind. I figured out that they'd been sending bills to the old owner but a bureaucracy never admits fault and only doubles down.

The HOA is worse. The USPS has to exist. The HOA is there to take money and not protect your mailboxes.

What have I become?


New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: Please define chode edition

It's that time that nobody waits for, nobody desires, and nobody yearns: THE NEW YORKER CARTOON CAPTION CONTEST! It's a contest that is open to the public that I never enter but I give you my captions as if you don't have better things to do with your life!

Yeah, I'm just watching some guy try to prove how much he hates God by taking a shit on a church. In a way, his non-belief in God and his dedication to it is its own religion. He has erected a throne to nothing and participates in public displays of zealous devotion to nothingness. I hope he dies. 

Dude, this day fucking sucks. 

This is just traditionalist propaganda trying to get me to accept the notion that I must escort some stupid fucking kid across the street as if I don't have better things to do with my life like LISTEN TO FUCKING DEERMAN. 

Thank you for suffering through that with me. Yesterday was ninety degrees. Today it's sixty. I'm sneezing my taint away. I needed this.

Oh, hey! Joe Lansdale, my hero, retweeted the most recent Inbetweener episode with Zach Chapman. Give it a listen. We talk about Joe Lansdale some.

Support the Deerman project on Patreon if you're so inclined.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Pence doesn't kneel but bows out

Ol' human Chuck E. Cheese animatronic machine that became sentient and started ruining everybody's life, Mike Pence, bowed out of a football game because he couldn't stand the sight of free speech at a football game.

Thank you for spending all that money on a security detail and a seat just to walk out like a spoiled little brat.

That's the Trump administration for you. Symbolic gestures that amount to nothing but costs the taxpayer a hell of a lot. Let people kneel, dammit. Who gives a shit? Go fix something, you empty-eyed son of a bitch.

I respect the military, I respect the flag, I respect your right to get up out of your seat and walk out of a game after spending at least a hundo on your ticket. That's your right. I respect an American citizen's right not to put his hand over his heart. I respect his right to make a statement about police brutality. We are a police state for black men and women. That should make Americans uncomfortable. If the most offensive thing about their protest is kneeling for the national anthem - you should get your head out of your ass and start being enraged at what caused this whole thing.

Contrary to popular dogma, black Americans are just as American as anyone else even the orange colored skin bag that happens to be President. Black Americans have the same right to express themselves as white folks. White folks are free to show up at political rallies with guns but any time a black man is practicing his right to open carry, people lock their doors and call the cops. Or, this incident from 2008 when a black man wore "paramilitary" garb at a polling place and white America shat its diapers.

Let's be clear. It wasn't the uniform that the black man was wearing that caused Fox news to send the cameras. It was the combination of his skin color and what he was wearing. If it was just his clothing, we'd have cameras in Ted Nugent's face every time he left his house to find cat scratch fever medicine.

While we're at it, if the sight of people kneeling during the national anthem bothers you but the above photo of Ted Nugent wearing a US Army uniform does not you are a moron. A fuckin' moron as Rex Tillerson would say. Ted Nugent was so brave that he shit his pants to avoid the draft during Vietnam. Now he goes around playing dress up in a uniform that so many braver men and women died in.

President Trump avoided the draft by getting a doctor's note for bone spurs. But please, let's shit on some football players for understanding their constitutional right. I guarantee you they pay more taxes than any walking teratoma in the Trump family. 

Hey, you're an American. I'm an American. Can we just go back to debating fucking concussions or something? 

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

What a week. Deerman, Episode 4: Pee Pee circles has breached the gates.

Broken River Books has relocated to El Paso, Texas and I was able to go to Rios de la Luz's reading at BookWoman for her debut novella, ITZA. The book is wonderful and I'm sure as hell glad that Texas could gain and reclaim such talented folks. I first med J David Osborne at the New South Festival a few years ago. He consistently publishes great fiction. It's a friggin' talent to have such an eye for great talent. This is a Texas writer family down there. I stole this photo from Gabino Iglesias. 

I have many stories to tell about this week. It was the week from hell. I have a new arch-nemesis. Mold in Central Texas wants to kill me. But who cares? There's a new DEERMAN episode out. Check it out.

I'm planning a big October for my little Deerman podcast. There will be a whole slew of spooky stories being uploaded this month. They'll be the spooky story inbetweeners. 

Friday, September 29, 2017

Don't break your dick when the road is slick

It's raining in Austin right now. It's raining and it's my favorite weather. It's cooler, it gives me built in excuses to not do anything, it helps me align my chakras.

I don't have an umbrella. I did at one time but umbrellas are like prophylactics. You only realize you need one when you're practicing on a banana and, let's be honest, who regularly stocks bananas?

It's work time. The ground is slick and I laugh too myself as I speed-shuffle into the front door because there's a wet floor sign outside.

"Duh," I think to myself. "What kind of idiot complained about the outside sidewalk being we–"

Folks, I slipped and lost my balance, banging my head on the very wet sign whose necessity I questioned. It still wasn't necessary. In fact, had the piso mojado sign not been there, I wouldn't have hit my head. I wouldn't have a hardening bump on my left temple. I wouldn't have to take a few Advil right now.

Deerman, episode 4 is live for patrons right now!

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Coke Zero and the war for your brain

It's true folks. Coke Zero was a false flag operation.

One of these is not like the other and I hate it for even attempting to fuck with my current reality timeline in which Coke Zero Sugar does not exist and Coke Zero is forever.

For years they lulled us into a sense of safety with a refreshing cola product that contained no sugar but all the headaches associated with aspartame.

Now the devilish black can is gone forever.

Replaced with a Manchurian soda called Coke Zero Sugar. The black can now accented with a red dot LIKE THE FLAG OF IMPERIAL JAPAN if you want to make such a leap.

Coke Pearl Harbored grocery stores everywhere and they must not be forgiven. Coke Zero was a sleeper cell, designed to fit in with all the rest of the sodas to trap well-meaning Americans with a more European version of a complacency bomb. Well, we won't take it. We're going to stand up during the goddamn pledge of allegiance and I am going to clean the shit out of my Old Glory boxer shorts. I'm an American, dammit and I'll be damned if some multinational corporation changes a formula for something I never even drank in the first place.

What a way to drive up sales, Coke. What a way to clear out stock. What a way to turn good American boys into Parisian Pussy Pants. I don't want Coke Zero Sugar. Let the Argentinians have it. They're obsessed with Europe anyways.

I want Coke Zero or I will have zero. But I will not have Coke Zero Sugar. No way, Joseph.

Support Deerman on patreon.

Hear me and Robert Dean gab

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: Oh My God, A New Yorker Is Our Overlord edition

So much of life is stuffing words down cartoon characters' mouths and pretending anybody cares! Huzzah! Onward to the place where people who say 'huzzah' are dragged into the street and beaten!

"This place was great before the chef accidently tweeted his dick on a customer's pizza. Where the fuck is our pizza?"
"My son called me with an existential crisis that is somehow solved by me throwing money at him. This time I was just like, 'Nah, fuck it. I'm buying a workplace hammock.' "
"If you call me one more time I'm going to swing hard right and fuck both of us up."

"I like how the new furniture begs to be free."

"Hey, Nancy. The fucking dweebs you ordered are here."

Catch up with Deerman!

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Dangerous Minds

When we were kids, we really liked Coolio. Who didn't in 1995/1996? Gangsta's Paradise was the shit. Naturally, my brothers and I wanted the Dangerous Minds soundtrack.

We begged my dad to allow us to buy a "Parental Advisory" CD. Fuck you, Tipper Gore. My dad made us write an essay on why we should own it.

We put our heads together and wrote the best bullshit I've probably ever written in my life.

"The Dangerous Minds soundtrack is an important piece of art. It provides a window into the lives of people who have different lives. It is a good complement to a movie I have never seen about education and crime and poverty. I think you should let us buy this CD."

My dad relented.

We went to the Sam Goody at the Cerritos Towne Center and I went straight for the Rap section. There it was. Michelle Pfieffer being a Breatharian on the cover in a leather jacket and red lipstick. My mind, friends, was getting into dangerous territory.

Dad escorted us to the cash register where some thirty something year old nerd looked at my purchase then back at my dad and said, "You let your kids listen to this filth? They should be listening to Hootie and the Blowfish." I don't think my dad was embarrassed or anything because he said something like, "They wrote a very thought out essay about why it was a necessary purchase." Or maybe he said, "Fuck you, chump. Just take their money."

The mustachioed music gestapo rolled his eyes and allowed us to pay $19.88 for the soundtrack. That's what CDs cost back then. What a scam.

It wasn't long until my brothers and I did something to merit losing our Dangerous Minds privileges. It was a good thing that we backed up the CD to cassette tape because as punishment for whatever sin we committed, he made us return Dangerous Minds in exchange for Hootie and the Blowfish. My dad was a Stalinist for creative and funny punishments.

Lo and behold, the same rules nerd checked us out on the exchange. When I gave him the Hootie and the Blowfish CD to exchange for it, he tapped on the jewel case and said to us, "You see? This is real music."

Hootie and the Blowfish is so irrelevant that it's not even a punchline anymore. We never got that Dangerous Minds soundtrack back but my folks also didn't make us write essays for the shit we wanted. If we had the money for it, we were welcome to take the bus to the record store to get it on our own.

Don't forget to become a patron on Patreon!

Check out my chat with Trey Hudson, founder of Mad Shade!

Sunday, August 27, 2017

My dog is named Comrade

My dog is named Comrade and people always want to say Conrad.

My pal, Derrick, said, "Oh, like Joseph?"

I answered, "Totally," because I heard Josef. As in Grandpa Joe. Man of Steel. Stalin, Comrade the Ultimate.

It was only when I got up my car that I realized he meant Joseph Conrad.

Comrade is an asshole. A total bitch. She runs around barking at nothing about the virtues of destroying all property and I have to answer, "cut it out unless you want to go back into your crate," accidentally validating all of her high falutin ideals about whatever the fuck it is dog commies believe in.

She'll telegraph she wants to take a shit and I'll get up and take her out only to spend 20 minutes in the rain chasing her around as she barks at the ghosts of whatever Texas battle was fought here. She's fast. Take away the 's' and you have a good adjective for me.

It's probably good exercise chasing around this dog.

When she sees people she gets wild and excited and pees on their feet. There's no good way to say sorry for this to a stranger except to walk away and refuse to clean it up.

I've never had a pet before. Comrade is my first pet. I demanded it be a puppy or else I'd never love it. It's not that I thought dogs were disgusting before; I appreciate that they exist, it's just that I've never connected with an animal.

Puppies are cute. It's undeniable. I could love a puppy. And it'd grow into a dog so gradually that I wouldn't notice and I'd still love it as a puppy.

People who own dogs know this is some dumb ass logic. It's been hard to train a puppy. They were right. It's hard to understand a puppy. It's harder when it's teething. I'd have my hands full, they said.

They were right.

But I was right, too.

Because Comrade has pissed on my floor, shat on my floor, torn apart my pocket notebook, bit my fingers, scratched my legs, woken me up in the middle of the night, ruined our garden, and done any number of idiotic shit.

But I love that damn dog.

Go catch up with Deerman.

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Deerman, Episode 2 is live!

Hey, y'all!

Deerman, episode 2 is now live. I wanted to do this thing monthly but I have decided that the best course is to publish episodes at least twice a month.

I can't thank Zug Goodina enough for making the artwork for this episode of Deerman. You may have seen his work on Party World Rasslin' things. That's where I originally encountered his art and I'm stoked that he agreed to do something for Deerman. He takes commissions and can be reached through his facebook. 

Deerman is available on podbean, youtube, iTunes, Google Play, and soon to be on Stitcher. We're trying to take over the world here.

Deerman is going to be as long as it needs to be but I am also writing another novel that will be released "traditionally." Everything is a little screwy right now when it comes to our lives and creating and publishing and eating. We're all just trying to figure out what works. After Deerman is done, I plan on continuing the idea of serialized novellas/novels via podcast.

Anyways, enjoy some bit of Deerman! Subscribe! Share! Like! Yadda!

Friday, August 4, 2017

I almost burned my house down making cold brew

It's true.

I may be the only person alive who has almost burned down their house while making cold brew. I'm taking my coffee game to the next level, nerds.

It's simple. I was using a criminally overpriced coffee sock and I needed to clean it. I put it in a pot of water to boil. Then I remembered that my life is worth much more than watching some fucking pot of water waiting for it to boil. The old adage says, "A watched pot never boils," so I put on my sweet gaming headphones and played a few rounds of Call of Duty before I heard the fire alarm go off and the scent of burning human intelligence in the kitchen.

 "OH FUCK DUDE!" I yelled to my compatriot who was probably not listening to me.

I ran to the kitchen in my boxer shorts, shirtless, and my socks. The fire was in the pot. There was no water in the pot. It had already evaporated.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

I threw some water on the burned coffee sock, really regretting that I got the American flag design at that point, and the fire was gone.

Smoke filled the house. I opened every window. I grabbed a broom to help push the smoke out. I grabbed my cat to throw around to vent my frustrations.

I didn't make any cold brew for about a year after that.

Now, I have a new method.


1. Grind the beans real coarse.

2. Dump the beans in your mason jar.

3. Fill the mason jar full of water.

4. Seal the cap.

5. Forget about it for a day.

6. Pour the liquid out into another mason jar with the help of a wire strainer.

7. Voila! You have cold brew without burning down your whole fucking house.

Hopefully this helped you get through another day of monotony and everyone screaming about politics and whatever, whatever. I've been thinking a lot lately about our collective mania. High-powered cold brew should help fuel it.

Oh, yeah! Deerman episode 1 is out! Check it out! Become a patron! 

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest: Steve Bannon Is A Sexual Gymnast Edition!

Oh, God. Here we go again. This one might have a repeat but I am unsure because I'm too lazy to sift through my old posts. Look, I'm not Steve Bannon. I'm not sitting around trying to stuff a banana into the orange lodged up my ass, okay!?
They say they want to turn our town into a destination.

It's kind of weird that we gentrified all around this one guy's taco cart.

Now that I've killed your children in a display of my awesome power, I want you two to sift through my litter box again.

As a matter of fact, my dick DOES hurt.

Deerman, episode 1

Deerman is here, y'all. Check it out!

Click here for PodBean

Click here for YouTube

iTunes coming soon!

Thanks to Jack Arambula for creating the art for this episode.

Thanks to the Grassy Knoll for providing the theme song. Why not buy their album?

Help support the Deerman project by becoming a patron:

Help support the Deerman project by buying something from Amazon. It adds nothing to your total, it just gives us a sweet, sweet monetary kickback to keep this shows' wheels greased. You can get my latest book, Invasion of the Weirdos!

Follow me on twitter @AHILBERT3000

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Deerman Begins August 1, 2017!

Deerman begins on August 1st!

Support Deerman by becoming a Patron on

Click on our Amazon link to help support Deerman. It adds nothing to your cost and it helps us tell the Deerman saga.

Why not buy the Grassy Knoll album?

Twitter: @ahilbert3000

Monday, July 3, 2017

Deerman: The next great American shitpost.

Howdy, folks.

For a hot minute I've been marinating on this Deerman idea and what the best way to release it was.

There is no way to promote it as a physical book. Sure, there is. But there's no good way to.

I decided to serialize the book and release each chapter on a monthly basis with accompanying audio and images.

I plan to launch it publicly in the first week of August. If you become a subscriber on Patreon, you will get each chapter a full week ahead of everyone else.

I'm still playing around with distribution methods and whatnot but every chapter will be posted on as well as on YouTube and PodBean and all those magical channels.

Please become a patron today!

I believe this will end up being a novella length story of about 12 chapters or more but it can go anywhere. That's the beauty of serializing the damn thing.

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

How to stay cool in the heat wave

It's hot outside. It's so hot, you could fry an egg in your car if you hated cars that smelled bearable to drive in.

Here's how to stay cool in the heat wave of 2017.

My lyrics largely make no sense but my fan base also hates "mumble" rap stuff. Nothing makes sense. Life is a vortex ending in death.

1. Shades. Everyone needs a cool pair of shades. I suggest Ray Ban Wayfarers. They're classic. They already match a coke nail perfectly.

Exhibit A: It's a coke nail despite your uncle telling you it's for the hard to reach boogers. It's for hard to reach boogers if you want to blast them with coke.

2. Get some cigarettes and pack them constantly. Everyone knows that's fucking cool no matter how hot it is.

Good form!

3. Tell everyone within earshot how much air conditioning is ruining the environment. Tell people you prefer kombucha as a natural way of cooling your body down. That and coconut oil. Lots of coconut oil. 

4. Get caught reading at every turn. On the shitter? Leave the door open so everyone knows you're extending your stay at Porcelain Hotel's pool to get through this nail-biting chapter of Capital by Karl Marx. 

5. Get angel investors for your start-up that is going to change the paradigm and disrupt the market through superior storytelling and a competitive benefits package. (*cough* *cough*)