Blog - Tortured Soul

I wrapped myself in bacon yesterday for a phone interview with Mpls. St. Paul magazine.

I was, I’m sure, delicious.

She wanted to talk about the new book but I wanted to talk about the last episode of Long Island Medium.

She said she was too “busy” to talk about what I wanted to talk about. What? Too busy to care??

Moving on:

Zeichen Press found a new intern and she already promised to fold my laundry. I’ll give her this new card as soon as she puts my clothes away:

I live on a farm so I can swim through my gold coin-filled silos like Uncle Scrooge McDuck. My latest money-making scheme is sure to fill its very own silo: A downloadable collection of our cards turned cartoons! 

I’ve requested that royalties be paid in gold doubloons.

Download yours today!

It’s time to free ourselves from the shackles of this social networking monster.

We are ignorant prisoners, dragging our metal cups across the bars while our warden stuffs his fat face with naturally-cased wieners.

We are school children, wandering like Wii avatars, waiting for the bell to ring only to be called in to diagram sentences.

We are the Israelites crushed by our taskmasters, waiting for the supernatural smiting of the Egyptians.

Rise up, people. Stop rowing the slave ship. The candy tasted so good before we got in the van, but now we must be deprogrammed. Make no mistake about it — this is some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Oh, the candy… so sweet, so forbidden, so Turkish-Delighty.

Damn you, Facebook!

I’ve flushed my precious time down the toilet. Time I’ll never get back. Just like the year I got hooked on Party of Five – those orphaned Salingers led by their gorgeous brother/carpenter, Matthew Fox…

Oh, but it’s done now. No point in looking back. Friend requests, status updates, profile pictures — word combinations unwittingly added to the English lexicon!

I’ve got a word for you: insidious.

Never has there been such a tool, such a divisive tool. It wears a party hat and mixes the strongest drinks, watching the party-goers behave like jackasses. Why?

Ask son-of-a-dentist/billionaire, Mark Zuckerberg. Mr. Zuckerberg was unavailable for comment during the writing of this, and it’s no wonder. He’s in Palo Alto, counting his drug money. I’m booking a flight to Palo Alto and am either going to personally punch him in the face or flatter him until he hires me as his “personal secretary.” The second scenario is obviously more lucrative. The point is, I will no longer be in this creepy symbiotic relationship.

I will be free. (cue the MLK footage)

Print shops are full of danger.

Hands mangled, digits lost, clothes torn right off of bodies… (I better fact-check that last one).

Zeichen Press is no exception.

Behold:Look if you must. Sometimes it is better to face the painful, it desensitizes the mind.

That’s good, right?

Because I am so committed to my craft, I (by “I”, I mean “my son”) squished the spider, and finished laying out this card:Mother’s Day is coming up but you don’t have to get your mom a card.

Three new rep groups this Spring.

THREE.

These new (lucky) states are: Virginia, West Virginia, Idaho, Montana, Alaska, and New Mexico. Each rep gets a box of goodies, packed by Jen:

I bet that’s a lot of work.

I wish I could help but I’m too busy watching Pam watch kittens on televison while I lay in bed.

I DID write/design some new cards — I’ve heard that laughing is as good for your body as eating so I plan to airdrop some new cards to the starving people in the world.

I’m sure they’ll be grateful. 

But how can I be tame when I am thrust into such an atmosphere? I have only one thing to say:

That sounds delicious!

If Spring would come I wouldn’t be forced to sit here and email sell sheets to hundreds of newspapers around the country. I won’t complain about the weather because that’s about as interesting as listening to someone list their health problems. But I WILL say this:

If I lived in Hawaii, there’d be no Zeichen Press.

See, I can always find the blessing in disguise.Oh fine, here’s a new card — inspired by the endless Winter:

The woman gazes through her window. A window covered in dog-drool, a window with a view of only one season: Winter. She stares, slack-jawed, at the slow parade of life.

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call the Twilight Zone.

SERIOUSLY?!?

I can’t believe she doesn’t see me!…

I’M IN THE HOT AIR BALLOON FLOATING OVER YOU AND MARTHA!!

I knew it… She is walking to the mailbox to send a Zeichen Press card!

She ordered a bunch from our online shop, but due to doctor/patient (I’m the doctor in this scenario) confidentiality, I cannot divulge which cards she chose.

I CAN tell you that she is concerned about a funny-looking mole on her mom’s bottom.

Jen was part of a dangerous expedition

New product was added to the shop and I can’t help but wonder which cards will sell well… will they be sheep-related?:Or not?