The Journal of Ephemeral Inspiration promises a neverending spew of pointless minutae, brilliant yet useless ideas, troublingly cruel commentary and emphatic musings on whatever shiny object happens to catch our collective eye. Always remember, hate the game, not the playa.
Don't Panic
The Journal of Ephemeral Inspiration will be dark until Thursday night. We're embarking on our twice-a-year sojourn into the wild to gather feral comedy. The raw humor is cinched-up, Curious George-like in a burlap sack and shipped to our ozone-perforating refinery, where we grind it to a pulp, add our patented brand of bitterness and sarcasm, pack it into pellet form, then release it to our hungry readermonkeys. We got a real deal on the factory when Soylent Green was yanked off the market.
So hang in there, it'll only be a few days. You can do that on your head. In fact, why don't you do it on your head?
Insania Fragilis, Fectum Dubitabilis!
posted by Editor, The J.E.I. | 1:36 AM
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