Miscellanea: Hurry up and subscribe to THEGARBAGEMAN already, FFS!
Who is like unto thee, O THEGARBAGEMAN, among the MINDS? Who is like thee, glorious in memes, fearful in META, doing wonders? He (or she, or schmi; let us not presume) is a MINDS content-provider of no common ability. THEGARBAGEMAN photoshops; THEGARBAGEMAN blogs; THEGARBAGEMAN tells stories; THEGARBAGEMAN reviews. Let us then pause, out of admiration, to deliver this PSA. Let us also admit the truth; Gildersleeve is jealous of THEGARBAGEMAN, so very, very jealous.
Whereas Gildersleeve is an ugly, old, miserable pedant, THEGARBAGEMAN is a handsome, virile, luxuriantly green-furred Muppet©; whereas Gildersleeve is hopelessly wedded to a prose style current circa 1890, THEGARBAGEMAN is effortlessly unaffected, witty, and charming; and whereas Gildersleeve struggles with all of his flagging middle-aged faculties simply to produce one or two moderate-length blogs per month, THEGARBAGEMAN churns out content at a rate that would shame an entire troupe of 1980’s South Korean animation cell painters. All of which points are reason enough for why Gildersleeve can say with honesty: I hate you, THEGARBAGEMAN, you are good-looking; you are the total package; you have so many subscribers. I hate you; but I love you. Keep on being you, for all our sakes.
And yet Gildersleeve worries about you, THEGARBAGEMAN—not that your eventual global fame and success are in any way in doubt, no, not at all. Gildersleeve worries because he knows so well that in this shittiest of worlds, virtue is its own punishment. Gildersleeve worries that THEGARBAGEMAN may prove just another proverbial candle, burning twice as bright and half as long. Just how long can THEGARBAGEMAN maintain the frantic pace of his (or hers, or schmers) efforts, unless he (or she, or schmi) be not, in fact, one, but several people? How is THEGARBAGEMAN managing his (or her, or schmer) Sisyphian production schedule? Think upon it a moment. Gildersleeve cannot possibly hope to find the time to read all of the material THEGARBAGEMAN sends forth every week, and yet THEGARBAGEMAN not only reads it, but writes it all, too! Gildersleeve is beset by frightful visions of THEGARBAGEMAN, pasted into a dank and tattered office chair, desperately hammering away at his (or her, or schmer) personal computing device, kept going solely on a diet of bourbon, cocaine, and Pop-Tarts. In Heaven’s name, THEGARBAGEMAN, slow down! Spare yourself, for all our sakes. Beware as well, THEGARBAGEMAN, the covetous solicitors of The Sesame Workshop; one day, after you have amassed uncounted wealth and used it to fund your political career, they will come unto thee, and pronounce their dreadful sentence: Hey. You can’t use that Muppet©. That’s our Muppet©.
Thus let us not hesitate. Let us subscribe to THEGARBAGEMAN. Take this post unto yourselves. Remind the &@#% out of it. Subscribe unto THEGARBAGEMAN, and if thou art already subscribed, subscribe again. Let us bask in the light that is THEGARBAGEMAN while we may.