Cool Conversation I Had The Other Day

I can’t muster the energy to ruminate on why, but there’s something strangely pathetic about depicting yourself as a fictionalized cartoon “sona” alongside your actual, real life partner. And so, I nixed that option, even if doing so leaves the reader wondering “just who is this handsome stranger protagonizing in Beany’s latest comic?”

I genuinely have no memory of ever, ever, mentioning Kevin O’Leary to my girlfriend. If memory serves (lol) we have never watched a single episode of Shark Tank together, or even talked about it in any facet beyond it’s quality as platonically ideal Hotel TV. I cannot begin to imagine what kind of scenario would prompt me to say “Of course, Shark Tank is good— but can we hone in on the qualities of the balder, more hobgoblin-esque oligarch for a moment?” on more than one, maybe two occasions max. I don’t even think he holds a candle to someone like Trump as far as morality-independent persona fascination goes; still, he seems like the exact kind of character that belongs on a show like Shark Tank. He’s a cartoon character— a kids movie “I’m going to tear down the orphanage”-type, who casts no illusions about investment being an act of charity or opportunity or economic development or anything, and in fact seems to openly relish being a gold-hoarding scoundrel— much more so than the rest of the cast, who are probably just as scummy. The show’s ethos backs him on this— it makes superficial gestures towards the Sharks as benevolent dream-granters, but really, the show’s overall tone paints them as sadistic gods, pre-morality Nietzschean Blonde Beasts, whom we love to watch torture and disembowel us, as we rightfully deserve. This is the American way, the American mindset, the collective unconscious urge. The show could not exist without it. ( My good buddy Leo Vader has a great Nebula-exclusive video essay on Shark Tank, which I heartily recommend)

The California Raisins thing doesn’t surprise me at all. That video kicks ass