Last night I had a dream that North Korea bombed various U.S. targets but a) I didn’t know about it for a day or so because I was out at the movies, and b) I found out from Metafilter. It’s always a little humiliating to wake up from a dream about a website — something that’s happened to ALL OF US right, ha ha? Right? You and me both? YES? OK GREAT — but this was just too much.

And why do my dreams always have to have some stupid moral? My subconscious thinks it’s so high and mighty, sitting there dispensing with unrequested advice. “I hope you learned something during our sleepytime adventures, laddie.” Man, just shut it and start cranking out the dreams where me and my talking dingo sidekick wage a full-on assault on the Pleasure Planet of Busty Particle Physicists.

OK, twice now I’ve had to write copy targeted at a “hip, urban” audience, but the first time it was supposed to be intentionally lame while this time it needed to feel authentic. And we all know how cringe-inducing it is when ads try to appropriate street lingo and how it’s like your mom saying something like, “I mean it, dawg, I am going to hit that tonight,” and back in the day I could just roll my eyes but now it’s my job to make other people roll their eyes and I guess that means I’m now officially an adult. And so I would like, at this point, to let a single manly tear roll down my cheek and vow to stay up late tonight eating PB&J and playing on the Gameboy. Which is what I was going to do anyway, come to think of it.