...on the editorial life

"you know k, i totally loooove the art on this black mamba feature. you know, i saw the sketches for this wild turkey(another editor at killing stuff), and the guy was wearing these l.l. bean shoes but the artist nailed the shoes dead on. i get chills every time i read the story. yeah man, i love this story,"

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

this the the trappings of having your cube right by the board. what's the board you ask? well it's the special place at a magazine, usually right by the art department where they print out all of the magazine's pages so that they can see what the magazine looks like every month. making guns look sellable monthly (the bastard's magazine) has a wall adjacent to killing stuff monthly's. now the other side of this function is this is the place where the editors bring the salesmen to show them what's running so they can sell ad space properly. so every goddam day, the bastard has to listen to the editor of killing stuff run the same schtick.

"you know {insert name here}, i totally loooove the art on this black mamba feature. you know, i saw the sketches for this {insert name here}), and the guy was wearing these l.l. bean shoes but the artist nailed the shoes dead on. i get chills every time i read the story. yeah man, i love this story,"

it's early in the cycle, so i know that eventually he'll trot moe up here (the publishing director for the company) and tell the story again. and then the sales guy and tell it again. and my editor, and tell it again.

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

this is simply a story about some dumb fuck who grew up in rhodesia which is now zimbabwe who broke into some old african chief's tomb and spent like 500 hours waiting for this extremely deadly snake to let it's guard down long enough for him to escape with his life. now i like the editor, and i like the story, and i like the fact that killing stuff sticks to it's roots of trotting out adventure stories but, i'm in a bad place this week. hell, i'm miserable and i'm tired of hearing about:

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

snakes. shoes. africa.

shit's gotta start looking up. long weekend ahead. no plans. no prospects. no life. this is not what i signed on for.

—the bastard