I am him. These are our hotlinks.
The ninja’s hand is my words. His opponent’s gonads are the ripe fruit of brand truth.
For daycare money, I write and creative direct things like these ads for Cree, featuring Lance Reddick, a transubstantiated ribeye steak, and money-eating 🐐s.
They let us acrylic Lt. Daniels’ visage on the body of Simon Bolivar.
I also helped save the bees with misspelled tweets, made Pinterest not suck, created the world’s first in-calendar advertising, and assaulted a bunch of produce for Burt’s Bees.
This is a stethescope strapped to a tree being hit with a piano mallet.
Some other things I can’t believe I was paid to create include the brand voice for a beer called Ponysaurus, a yule log in which the “log” is doughnuts and the “yule” is molten sugar, and this rock opera for a drunk pilgrim.
Swimming in the electric stuffing / Interdimensional gravy man
I like not getting paid to write, too, which is why I published this series of haiku in a peer-reviewed journal about snacks, and why I have a poem about the meditative qualities of spanking it featured in the anthology Best New Poets.
You can buy this book in real bookstores. I’m in it. Weird.
In my spare spare time, I make art from Google Image search glitches, make babies, take science diagrams out of context, and remind people not to be mean to people.
Things I Like: Hiss Golden Messenger, Randomized Wikipedia Articles, Welcome to Pine Point, William Eggleston, Seven Minute Eggs, DOOM, One Tiny Hand, & The R. Kelly Sloth.