Looking at available writing jobs.
“Will use AI to…”
Nope.
“After AI proofing…”
Nope.
“Utilize multiple AI models…”
Nope.
We’re really fucked, aren’t we?
Posts by Chris Fletcher
My news app of choice introduced a paywall, despite bombarding every article with ads.
Sigh. Uninstall.
I lost the whole of yesterday to work, 8am to 9pm.
Same today. And same tomorrow.
It’s exhausting.
Sometimes it just seems like the days waste past me, is all.
Huh. Chuck Norris.
Didn’t have that one on my bingo card for today.
Getting ready for school, 8yo casually asked the wife if she was the one who put the eggs out in the yard every Easter.
We have a total-truth policy with the kid, so she said yes.
Now she’s in tears about the magic of childhood leaving, and he’s just confused.
“I like that it’s you,” he said.
So he straight up steals ten billion dollars of taxpayer money for his so called “Board of Peace”, and then turns around and bombs Iran?
Make it make sense.
Ah, so. Schadenfreude it is.
I’d say give up. I’ve been trying to figure it out for hours now.
Had to pull a bunch of fourth grade boys aside and talk to them today because they were repeatedly backhanding each others’ balls and yelling “No pain no gain!”
In case you were wondering about my day.
These muh’fuckers have totally taken over my instagram doomscrolling.
And yet.
I’m absolutely here for them.
Get on that.
In conversation this afternoon, my wife used the phrase “Just the tip” and I was really proud of myself for not making a crude joke.
Then I blew it by pointing out to her that I didn’t make a crude joke.
Stabbing Westward’s Darkest Days album serves this exact purpose for me.
Sometimes, sadder is better. For a moment.
Why is long division so needlessly complicated?
I swear I wasn’t taught this shit when I was in school.
Freaking loved this game.
Shame they never made more of them.
You can’t arrest journalists for doing their job.
Got the 8yo into Batman The Animated Series.
Proud dad moment.
Second that.
We should write sternly worded letters or something.
Fourth grader has a streak of dirt across his forehead. No idea what it is.
I discreetly pull him aside and give him a mirror.
Me: “You wanna run to the bathroom and clean it off?”
Him: “No, I’m okay. I’m Simba.”
You can’t *give away* a Nobel Peace Prize.
Especially not to someone who CURRENTLY is siccing his secret police on his own people while threatening war with an allied country.
What the absolute fuck is this timeline.
Random thought that popped into my head while I was folding laundry:
That Thing You Do! is now a thirty year old movie.
Ouch.
Working with small kids, I see daily how AI is dumbing them down. They don’t read - and they don’t care to learn.
I’m 46. I’m low key terrified that I’ll be going into surgery for something or other at some point and just as the drugs kick in, I’ll hear the surgeon say
“Hey ChatGPT, how do I…?”
Cannot believe Bowie has been gone for a decade.
Madness.
“Do we become sky?” - Richard Fletcher, The Great and Secret Show by Clive Barker.
You’re up on the right side of bed this morning. Love it.
And yes. Let’s make a damn movie!
Oh! It’s January 6th.
Happy anniversary, America. Let’s raise a glass to one of the dumbest and most dangerous days in American history, that somehow left the perpetrator of said day not only consequence free, but back in fucking office.
What a shit show.
The first Monday of 2026 was definitely the Monday-est Monday in a long time.
The kids at school were a nightmare, everyone was out of sorts. Long, trying bloody day.
So. Here’s to Tuesday.
Finished Stranger Things.
Loved Stranger Things.