I’m going to Hell and I blame the art department

22 Aug

I haven’t written in awhile, mostly because I was, yanno, flying around the world all celebrity-like, walking 100 kilometers through backwoods England with an old man in Keds and a Piggly Wiggly bag, watching a robot shit in a museum in Tasmania. Stuff like that. (All true).

And then I got a new job, which is great. It’s made me very busy but also very excited. It’s at a place I’ll call Mechanistic Populists. I call it that so that you’ll never EVER guess, mostly, but also to foil Google, which is one of my life goals. (It’s Popular Mechanics).

Wait! Fuck! No!

So Mechanistic Populists is great. I haven’t gotten to see any robots shit in exotic countries yet, but I’m still holding out hope. One thing we DO get to do though is have EXTREMELY glamorous photo shoots in the building, such as the one I had a meeting about today. The photo shoot I met about today is for an article tentatively titled Things You Should Keep in Your Car at All Times in Case of Emergency.

So I have a bunch of things for just such occasions, and I bring them back to the art table and lay them out, and the art director and designer and photo people come over and we all look at the things.

The art director says, “These are all great things to have in your car in an emergency.

I say, “Do you think we need additional things? Smaller things? Such as water and jumper cables and cat litter?”

The art director says, “Cat litter? Do people carry cat litter?”

I explain that some people carry clay cat litter to sprinkle under their tires if they get stuck in the snow. For traction.

“What about a cat?” he says. “We should have a cat.”

The designer seconds that yes, we should include a cat.

So then we look at the items some more and make some decisions, and the art director says, “I can see that a flashlight would be important to have in the event of a winter emergency, and this multitool and shovel. Also, a cat would be, as well.”

I say, “Yes, you could slice open its stomach and warm your hands in it like that tauntaun from Star Wars, but small.”

The art department looks at me as if I am insane.

Then the art director and I look at each other and whisper, simultaneously, “we could call him ‘mittens.'”

And I believe that brings us back to the headline, folks.

–fin–

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