Walk in the neighbourhood with Paul, walked the yard to pick up trash, a little bit of laundry, roasted chicken breasts with leftover veg, practice, working on The Dark Book, the new poem/apocalyptic scripture of MOLOCH. Unfortunately I didn’t get to sleep until after one am and it’s now 8:30 so up I git.
And I lied about talking about Supernatural’s unnatural death zero, no more, etc. At least it’s below the cut.
I just unleashed three tweets of pure fire on someone who snarked about how queer white people are never worried about the right things (yes, I’m still fucking mad about Supernatural, thanks for asking, it’ll be like “Churchill Falls” or “Land Back” in a minute) but I’m not posting them here, they’ll go in the Supernatural omnibus post from a week ago.
The shit the network (C*W) has unleashed to get the fans to stop complaining is pure MOLOCH. I have never once felt sorry for Misha Collins, but yesterday, Jesus Christ. He sounded like every unprepared press officer in a disaster, it was horrible. It’s like something shot dead at full gallop, that crashes and slides into you with its last bloody exhalation. That’s how well the network is handling the fans.
Literally hundreds of Supernatural fans have put their hands up and said WE’RE NEVER WATCHING A MINUTE OF JARED PADALECKI’S new show WALKER. Fuck your advertising, fuck your fond hopes for the show. (What, more racist copaganda? What, less representation?) You thought you’d get fans of Supernatural to watch it? Fuck you. Reboot the show up your own ass with my compliments.
