From the above list, you might notice that I love reading stories that are dark and funny. This year was dark and painful, for sure. But, funny? We had covfefe, right? Wait what! That was 2017? What the hell happened to the years? Oh right. Human rights abuses, systemic discrimination, and a global pandemic. Barry and Dear White People were consistently funny shows that I watched this year, one skewers racism and the other features a hired assassin. That was 2019? Crap. At least, Samantha Bee continued killing us satirically regardless of the year.
Is it funny that The Masked Singer was viewed by people who refuse to wear a mask to prevent airborne transmission of a deadly virus? Though this missive isn’t about 2020’s music and has become more about general confusion, Alanis Morissette was back with “Reasons I Drink” this year, and I wonder if she could tell me whether there’s irony in the abundance of mask shows and their popularity (even with anti-maskers). I believe that she could! In this house, we stan with “Ironic” and Alanis, or at least I do. Did I use that right? Did anyone else awkwardly start using stan as a verb in 2020? How many years late am I for that? Anyhoo, let’s raise a glass of non-alcoholic mimosa to 2020, the year that made the phrase “dumpster fire” a cliché.
In these recent wooly months, I’ve been lucky to not self-isolate. Many published materials have woven their way into the world. Great editors and readers made this possible. I’m thankful to words beyond words.
You’ll find a review of Cathy Ulrich’s Ghosts of You over at the Zest section of The Citron Review. It’s a wonderful read, re-read, and re-re-read. You will likely be transported out of your own body. The book kills. Seriously, it’s about murder.
A fresh batch of microfiction visited some lovely places like Litro, Blink-Ink and 50-Word Stories. These can be found on my home pasture, along with a wonderful chat with NUNUM. Seriously, it’s better than talking to me today, when I’m trying to figure out if planned obsolescence is looming over me. It wasn’t my plan! Nor were the puns, but I couldn’t shear them.