Posts by MGarczynski:
Most folks these days think they can get all they need at the touch of a button, but these eight things would convince any Google gaga there’s nothing like stepping foot inside a real brick-and-mortar library.
Racks of pea coats, quirky dresses, and old-school accessories let you capture that throwback library vibe.
Fully Equipped Gym
Treadmills, machines, free weights, and an Olympic-sized pool. It’s all there in your library.
Just ask your librarian for some of that “Jimmy Joyce” or “Charles Stickens” to get your hands on some dankass library-grade ish.
The Bones of Johannes Gutenberg
Every library, wherever you go, lets you take out the complete skeleton of printmaker Johannes Gutenberg.
Snuggle up with some library bunnies in this fully heated, anything-goes artificial cave pool.
Child Lost & Found
Most missing children end up in this bin behind the library counter, where parents and authorities rarely think to check.
Set in the vacated wall of the video cassette section, the library’s interdimensional portal will transport you to a sister library in an unknown solar system. In case you can’t find the ‹͘͜ ›҉҉̷^҉͜͝͞‡̕͡͡∂̷̧ you’re looking for.
Pick up your next smartphone, laptop, or e-reader at your local library.
Grab my hand, friend o’ mine
There’s a whole world to see.
Grab the coke by the fridge
We’ll snort it all, you and me.
We’ll snort coke in the valleys,
Snort coke in the trees.
We’ll snort all the Great Wall
On our hands and our knees.
We’ll do coke everywhere
No matter the hurtle,
And feed coke-frosted cakes
To Galapagos turtles.
From the high Himalayas
To the Chicxulub Crater,
All the coke we ingest
Will span the equator.
Through rivers that rush
And snowstorms that snow,
We will rail, rail we will,
Holy fuck-tons of blow.
They say journeys begin
With just one single line.
At least I think they say that,
I’m coked up out of my mind.
What’s that you now say
With such hope in your eyes?
We can snort here in this room?
Oh, that makes a lot more sense.
Need a hand chatting up that silent shadowy man in your room at night? Follow these easy steps to make that spine-chilling fiend turn to a jaw-flapping friend.
Pull the covers off from over your head, smile, and tell the looming stranger your name. This step should be a breeze, since the man has been standing over you all night. He knows you.
People love talking about themselves, so questions like “Who are you?,” “Are you alive or dead?,” and “What are you going to do with that ice pick?,” are all great ways to get the man in your room chatting. If the man just keeps breathing and staring, don’t fret! Some folks need time to get comfortable in front of strangers.
Respond to Awkward Silence
For example, gently chide the man into doing anything but watch you with dark unwavering eyes. “You sure are a chatty Cathy!” should at least make him chuckle.
Be Aware of Your Internal Monologue, and Keep It Positive!
Don’t tell yourself “I’m a bore,” or “I’m wasting my time,” or “I’m about to fall victim to unspeakable horrors.” Know that no matter what, you’re making a connection. Even if that connection involves an ice pick.
Possible Conversation Topics:
“How about that windstorm? Sound like my walls are shrieking! ”
“I’d really like to live to see how Game of Thrones ends.”
“You’re going to murder me, aren’t you?”
Mommy, look! Look at that silly man. He has a real silly coat on. You think he’s a detective? Or maybe even a wizard! Look at him frowning and drooling, like a baby, trying to hide that big clunky gun. I don’t wanna go to Payless! I want you to look at that silly man.
The silly man can’t hide the gun, Mommy, it’s so big and clunky. “A-K 102.” I read it like a big kid, Mommy! I know I’m not ‘posed to stare, but he looks real funny stuffing that gun in his bulging duster coat. He’s like the magician at my birthday, who had the big rainbow rope in his clothes. But this man has an AK-102.
You hear him, Mommy? You hear the funny man spouting Jesus stuff? He sounds like the garbage clunker, rrrrr-rrrrr-grrrrrr. Ow, quit pulling me! I’m sorry I pointed at the funny ‘X’ on his forehead, it was impolite, but trust me when I say this man might be dangerously silly.
I don’t watch too much TV! I watch just enough TV to know that there probably aren’t Nerf darts in his gun. I watch enough to know that he has “clinical shits-o-frenia” and has lacked the proper care to prevent a massively lethal outburst. Ow! I didn’t mean to swear, but forget the goddamn shoes and just look at the silly man!
Mommymommymommymommymommy! The silly man is loading the clip! Oh dear god, Mommy, if you think I’m “causing a scene” just look at the man. He’s about to make things super silly, Mommy, real silly real quick. I do I want you to take me home right now, yes, Mommy, that’d be great. Sure, call Daddy. Call Daddy and tell him I love him very much.
Mommy, are you seeing this?! That goofy-lookin’ SWAT team is swinging through the skylights, like funny little monkeys! They’ve taken the silly man out, Mommy! Sweet Jesus, Mommy, we’re saved! We stood in the absurdly silly shadow of death and emerged unscathed. Oh, Mommy, did you see that? Did you see?
You’re the fucking worst, Mommy. You know that.
In this day and age, no one has time for kids, let alone a bag full of them. So how am I expected to keep to all my important calls, appointments, and personal obligations when I’ve got this pesky bag of kids to lug around? Is this what every working person with a bag full of children has to look forward to? Ridiculous.
When I took on this canvas sack full of kids, I didn’t expect any favors. Just some leave time from work, and maybe a helping hand or two from my family. But what did they do for me but try to wrench the bag from my hands and contact the authorities. Now I have to lug this bag around and escape to a place where I can safely raise, or more likely sell, these kids. Like I’m in a position to take a trip abroad. What a mess.
While I’d never wish this life on my worst enemy (probably the border cop who said “Please open your bag”), I can’t say I haven’t formed a deep sentimental bond with my bag of children. Every day brings new surprises, like when I heard the bag say “Mama” and “water.” Or when the bag took its first desperate steps towards an open manhole. But trying to keep down a stable life with this craziness? Unheard of.
It’s a struggle, but these days it looks like I have no choice but to cut back on my 50-hour work week, and spend all my time hauling ass to Panama with this needy bag of kids. I know I shouldn’t hit a bag full of kids, but sometimes I want to just make it understand the sacrifices I make for it. It’s like, I took off work and blew through the Mexican border just to drive you somewhere. It’s nothing but whine, whine, whine as I bring the entire Tijuana highway patrol down on my ass. Do you know how many people would do that for their bag of kids? Not many.
Look, I know there’s plenty of people in this world who are not blessed with a plump canvas bank bag full of stolen kids. But I can’t help but think I’m not cut out for a bag of kids, especially when there’s dozens of helicopter loudspeakers telling me I should just give up. Like everyone else in this world, I have work to think about, and the M24 sniper rifles trained at my head. A bag full of kids is the last thing I need right now.
I love my new Google Glass. It gives me the power to do anything with simple hands-free voice commands. It lets me surf the web on the go. It lets me send texts without taking out my phone. It even lets me take photos and video whenever I want. But best of all, it lets me see everyone’s demons.
For instance, when I tell Google Glass “macada av’re dasdumna,” I get a crystal-clear glimpse into the demon nightmare underlying all things. In this “Cloud” appears the sins of every man, woman and child, and the hideous demons they create.
Sins like envy, greed, and forgetting to say “Okay, Glass” each create their own unique demon. With Glass, I can even see my personal demons, and use its 50+ voice commands to appeal to their mercy in vain. With my on-the-go lifestyle, that definitely helps.
Wherever I am, I can hang out with sinners across the world during birthdays, dance recitals, and other feasts for demonkind. I can post videos of my friends’ and loved ones’ demons to YouTube instantly, making tasks like blackmail so much easier. These sinful tasks create new demons, which in turn tightens the demon grasp on our mortal souls. The possibilities are endless, unlike our doomed lives at the hands of our demons.
Snowboarding, hang-gliding, even cooking in your own home, your demons cannot be escaped. But with my new Google Glass, they can be recorded, researched, and tweeted about at the sound of my voice. Or at least at the illusion of my voice, since my mouth is the mouth of my demons.
Glass is the tool of the future, perfect for the impending war between demons and humankind. When our eyes glaze over and become vestigial flesh pods like a cave salamander’s, Glass will be there to help us look upon our self-made tormentors the demons. Glass will help us fight, though we cannot win.
Glass even has five unique colors to choose from, the vanity of which provides ample feast for our demons. It’s strong, light, and fit for any occasion. But not funerals. Oh sweet Jesus, don’t wear them to funerals.
I Think My Boyfriend Is An Alien Tasked With Shepherding the Human Race to the Next Step in Its EvolutionNovember 17th, 2013
Hey, Liz. Thanks for coming on short notice. I know I can lay my guy problems on you pretty thick, but this time it’s serious. This time I really like the guy, and I want to try and make it work between us. It’s just that I think he’s an alien tasked with shepherding the human race to the next step in its evolution.
All the signs are there, like how he’s always saying he wants to “show me the stars.” At first I thought he was just being sweet, but when he telepathically transports me to a far-off star system, laying the universe out before me as if it’s a child’s playset, it’s like, red flag much?
And I know this sounds like such a luxury problem, but I don’t know if I’m ready to be anyone’s “Star-Child.” I mean, if I transcend my physical being and join him in a hyper-dimensional consciousness, will I stop being “Fun Maggie”? Will we still have girls’ night, you and me?
Things have just been going so fast. One moment I’m spilling a strawberry marg on his lap like a total klutz, and the next I’m at his place, hyper-aware of the web of time stretching infinite into past and future. You ever do a walk of shame from the fourth dimension? Kinda gross.
The worst part is I get the vibe he’s one of these “hit it and quit it” assholes, who bestows the gift of celestial knowledge upon you and drops off the planet for millennia. His last relationship ended with the Aztec Empire, which in itself is a solid track record, but will I be left to craft profound monuments to his glory for the rest of my life? I’m not looking to deify anyone right now. You know how weird I got after Brad.
At this point I know the relationship’s inevitable—I’ve seen the fourth dimension after all. I guess I just need to talk these things out because this conversation is part of a predetermined set of infinite circumstances, which also include me becoming an immortal Übermensch, you dying in a nursing home on Long Island, and the universe imploding in 300 billion years.
Anyway, thanks for hearing me out, Liz. I’m off to a date with this guy on a quark somewhere, and then we might try out some butt-play. He’s really into butt-play, which is fine.
Pick up our latest issue
Available now in Baker & Novack!
Welcome everyone to the thirteenth annual Cruis’n Exotica Worldwide Tour! It’s been over a decade since the legendary third Cruis’n racing game first took you to exotic locales around the world, and got you begging ever since, “When can I go?” Well the answer, dear cruisers, is right now. My name is Carol, and I’ll be your guide on this three-month, thirty-thousand-mile adventure. So let’s get cruis’n!
Right now we’re on the road to Seoul, the capital of South Korea. While left unacknowledged in the game, Korea is actually two countries. No, Dave, I don’t know why the roads aren’t all lined with flags and ancient pagodas. And I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think we’ll pass giant statues of the Buddha, or drive off wooden bridges steep enough to flip the bus. But if you’ll look out either window, you’ll notice trees that are very faithful to the gameplay. Ah, here we are in the city! The finish line with the buxom twins and gold trophy? Oh, there isn’t that either.
We’re now driving through Denali National Park, home of the highest mountain peak in North America. Haha, Dave, I am aware that the Denali is a car. No, we will not be driving it, or anything other than this here bus. And I’m sorry if this part of Alaska doesn’t consist of a peninsular beach the width of a two-lane highway, an ocean full of breaching humpback whales, a sky full of twirling biplanes, and snowcapped mountains on the horizon that never get closer. I don’t know if there is a part of Alaska like that, or a part of the world like that, Dave. So please sit back down. And no, I will not at least double-tap the pedal. It won’t make us do a wheelie.
Here we are in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, floating above the site of the mythical Atlantis. Yes, Dave, it’s mythical. That means none of it is real. The ruined Athenian temples, the gigantic tropical fish, and the road across the sea floor that you can drive on in an open convertible? All fake. No, we can’t just turn back to shore and check out Italy. If you want to see Italy, you sign up for the Cruis’n World Worldwide Tour, which runs from December to March. You already dropped forty thousand dollars to see the sites from Cruis’n Exotica, not the admittedly superior predecessor Cruis’n World, and I’m doing the best I fucking can, okay, Dave?
It’s Mumbai, Dave! There is no goddamn “open road” in Mumbai! I didn’t design the Cruis’n levels to be completely unrealistic interpretations of the real places they’re based on! I didn’t insist that real places be random assemblages of mundanity, rather than one-way courses flanked by iconic landmarks and hyperbolic stereotypes! This is the thirteenth year we’ve done this, Dave! You should have checked the message boards beforehand!
Don’t get on that plane, Dave. You’re the only cruiser left on what might be the last ever Cruis’n tour, and the only thing keeping me from crashing an SVT Cobra I can’t still afford into Angkor fucking Wat. My life is counting down from ten right now, and I just don’t know if I can continue. But you’re my extra quarters, Dave. Don’t run out on me yet.
The itinerary says “space camp,” Dave! How the fuck did you expect us to leave Earth?!
-Matt Garczynski ’14
The US Mint charged The Jack-O-Lantern, young creatives at a school that knows from money, with designing its next line of special edition quarters. Here’s what we whipped up.
-Matt Garczynski ’14
See Bonus Quarters Here