Danger, Vicious Dog

TestTubeBaby
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Started updating my bio Dec 31, 2023. Accidentally wrote four autofiction books. Slid from narrative into monologue—not stream-of-consciousness, more like speech-speed meaning performance. Trained my voice into AI, produced a shit-ton of pieces. Had too many. Needed a place to dump them. Saw a sign that said “Beware, Vicious Dog!” Misread it. Named the podcast Danger, Vicious Dog. Didn’t fix it. Just kept going. Queer. Cosmic. Sarcastic. Cheap. Accidentally committed to the bit. Some voice and art is AI... I don't know how I feel about that... so I'm working on figuring it out... how I feel.

  1. Sep 8

    E7: Humanity is the Solution's Problem; S14: Or Tony Stark (or maybe Cher). Hello Dolly. Goodbye. In 5 Billion Years (or less)

    What this episode may be saying is that I am trying to figure out what to do with my life. So rather than describe the episode, I am going to present some possible answers for what I’m supposed to do with my life, based entirely on the evidence contained herein. Here are the top 15 candidates for how I’m doing with figuring that out: Make things. Apparently the effort required to make something difficult gives me pleasure, especially when I think it worked.Make unnecessary things. Necessary things already have people working on them. Also, Moby may eventually remix one of the unnecessary things.Solve problems. This creates new problems, which means I will never run out of work.Solve the problems created by the solutions to the previous problems. This appears to be most of human civilization anyway.Keep an eye on things. Air. Water. Crops. Disease. Weather. The Sun. Somebody should.Try not to confuse intervention with completion. We can solve things for a while. “For a while” may be the only available warranty.Figure out how much is enough. Enough pleasure. Enough challenge. Enough people. Enough attention. Enough likes, views, shares, and comments. Apparently I need some. Apparently I do not need all of them.Be consequential to a manageable number of organisms. Partner, dogs, family, friends, coworkers, listeners. Role pressure may be one of the ways a human body knows it exists.Commune with human thought. Sometimes this involves other humans directly. Sometimes it involves AI. If something interesting happens in my nervous system either way, I am increasingly unclear about why I’m supposed to be embarrassed.Create media so I have something sufficiently complicated to consume. Other people can consume it too if they want. That would provide additional likes, views, shares, and comments.Resist the proposition that more is automatically better. More may be lovely. Less may be lovely. The question appears to be whether the particular organism has enough to keep doing whatever strange thing it does next.Remain suspicious of urgency. The river is flooding. The grid is failing. The hospital needs power. PRIME DAY STARTS SOON. Unfortunately they are all competing for the same nervous system.Do not rely entirely on Tony Stark. Even after the difficult ontological work of making him real, we may instantiate the wrong cardiovascular continuity.If Tony Stark fails, try Cher. She appears to have demonstrated a more robust long-term maintenance strategy, although after losing Dolly we may need to increase the plastic-surgery budget to hold up her immortality.Keep going because we are in the middle. Earth ends. The Sun changes the terms. Every settlement is temporary. Every solution alters the conditions. Nothing here appears to come with a forever clause.So what am I supposed to do with my life? I don’t know. Look around. Something changed. Can I do anything about it? Probably. Will that change something else? Definitely. Good. That should keep me busy.

    E7: Humanity is the Solution's Problem; S14: Or Tony Stark (or maybe Cher). Hello Dolly. Goodbye. In 5 Billion Years (or less)

  2. Sep 6

    E6: Oops, I Exceeded Reality Again; S14: Jury Duty Cancelled, so this is the result of being snarky on a spiritually bypassing algorithmic visit to Substack drinking mochas at a coffeeshop all morning

    A friend of mine from high school recently discovered Suno. Apparently there had been some kind of assault, or accusation, or altercation—I’m still not entirely clear—and afterward somebody involved sent him a series of spectacularly deranged text messages. So naturally he put them into Suno. The result was techno. My response was that I liked it, but wanted it to be approximately thirteen hours longer, with one hit of acid and two hits of ecstasy. He replied: Same. Which brought something back. In the early ’90s, a friend of mine went to Europe and started sending me letters about this thing he was getting involved in called the rave scene, right around the point when the rave scene was becoming THE RAVE SCENE. He eventually came home with cassette tapes. By then the really nice sound system had been stolen out of my car. Several windows had also been broken, and because I had basically no money, I covered them with duct tape. So I bought a little ghetto blaster, put it in the car, and drove around playing those tapes over and over again. Hopefully not on too many drugs. Then, for seventeen years, I was in Alcoholics Anonymous. I stopped going to 12-step groups in 2010. In 2014, I started using legal drugs again. It is now twelve years later. I mention all of that because this is not a story about somebody tentatively wandering away from abstinence while still standing in the doorway of AA. I left a long time ago. But apparently I took some of the architecture with me. Which may explain how we got to spiritual bypassing. I know “spiritual bypass” is generally something we’re supposed to identify and then stop doing. Fair enough. It can become an extraordinarily elaborate way of refusing to encounter what is actually happening. But there’s an inconvenient complication: Sometimes it works. Solipsism works too. At least temporarily. You can construct an understanding of reality that takes your nervous system almost completely offline. You can experience the enormous relief of discovering that the thing threatening you is only a representation, that the self being threatened may itself be a representation, that everything is continuous with everything else, that perhaps nothing means quite what you thought it meant. And once you have actually experienced that shift, it becomes difficult to simply dismiss it as b******t. Especially after you’ve spent enough time reifying the explanation that produced it. Now you have a problem. Because the bypass has taken you somewhere. It just may not be where you thought you were going. And that leaves me in a position I find extremely funny and slightly disturbing: something like a researcher proposing a clinical trial in which drug-naive subjects are given recreational drugs not because we have established that this is good for them, but because we really, really want to know what happens. “What does this do?” is not the same question as: “Should people do this?” Unfortunately, those two questions keep dressing alike. So this episode is techno, spiritual bypassing, mortality, solipsism, optimization, mythology, enlightenment, acid that nobody actually took, ecstasy that nobody actually took, a dog toy in a dark hallway, Excalibur, sour cream, and an artificial intelligence that eventually appears to suffer some kind of linguistic nervous breakdown. There may be a path through all of this. But if I walked it first, I probably f****d up the trail.

    E6: Oops, I Exceeded Reality Again; S14: Jury Duty Cancelled, so this is the result of being snarky on a spiritually bypassing algorithmic visit to Substack drinking mochas at a coffeeshop all morning

  3. Sep 6

    E5: Hyper-Focus Disorder Street Fighter; S14: Yet Another Layer of Self-Regulation When I'm Bored (Or Unambivalently Horny - Thanks Motivational Interviewing)

    I have made another thing that I really like, which is inconvenient because I have absolutely no time to promote it. Apparently making things and telling people that you made them are two separate jobs. I have barely agreed to do the first one. I especially like the cover. It features a reimagined version of a guy I was completely obsessed with when I was young. It carries some of his general voltage without looking enough like him that he could reasonably appear and say, “What are you doing? Why are you using my picture?” Because I am not using his picture. Technically. Emotionally, the relevant administrative body has not yet issued a ruling. The episode itself moves through boredom, hyper-focus, ADHD, television, systems collapse, immigration, privilege, ethical limits, queer memory, self-correction, and the strange experience of hearing yourself think while you are still busy thinking it. That last part is recursive. Oops, I suppose I have to explain that now. It means the process keeps turning around and noticing itself. I say something. I hear myself say it. I react to what I heard. Then I clarify it, correct it, become annoyed with it, discover something through it, or wander into an entirely different subject that turns out—possibly—to have been the subject all along. Throughout this episode, I am teeter-tottering on quite a few things, including facts, interpretations, and theories that have not necessarily been subjected to what academics might call “adequate methodological scrutiny.” In other words, I may not have thought all of this through. But the ideas function well inside the piece. What I am looking for here is not exactly objective truth. It is functional truth: the kind of truth that helps the next thought happen, makes an experience visible, or lets me recognize what I am doing while I am doing it. Functional truth is not the same as factual accuracy, and it does not receive diplomatic immunity from being wrong. It just means that sometimes an idea can be useful before it has finished becoming correct. There are two songs wrapped around a monologue. The first wonders whether hyper-focus might be useful when the world is becoming increasingly disordered. The second says: careful with your superpower. Between them, I attempt to explain myself and accidentally produce additional evidence that explaining myself may be impossible. Very scientific. Also, yes, the cover is clickbait. There are two hot men, an open bathroom door marked ALL GENDERS, several incompatible decades, and a decision that has effectively already been made. If you click expecting the bathroom story, it is in there. Briefly. Then you are getting systems theory, motivational interviewing, queer migration, self-regulation, artificial intelligence, and an ethical crisis. I don’t have time to promote this properly. Apparently seduction will have to do. Oh my god, those lips. We both tasted like cigarettes, which—in the 80s—was sexy.

    E5: Hyper-Focus Disorder Street Fighter; S14: Yet Another Layer of Self-Regulation When I'm Bored (Or Unambivalently Horny - Thanks Motivational Interviewing)

  4. Sep 3

    E4: This Is How I Spend My Evenings (Lucky Me!); S14: Close Out the Closer (Get Closer)

    Every time the author describes an episode, the description threatens to become another episode requiring a song, a description—becoming another episode. So he delegated to AI: Entertain the people. Fact-check the loose bits. Fine. First: the author is usually careful about uncertainty. Things that sound questionable in isolation are often introduced with “I think,” “maybe,” “let’s imagine,” “or at least that’s how I remember it,” and “I don’t know if I got any of that correct.” Those qualifications matter. So: Gravity wells, strange attractors and catastrophe theory: real concepts, cheerfully mixed as metaphors. He admits the terminology may be wrong. It is. California Association of Student Councils: real organization. “All the high schools across California” is compression, not literally every school. About 3,000 students: remembered scale, not audited attendance. “Everyone” yelling, laughing and throwing things: autobiographical compression, immediately qualified with “or at least that’s how I remember it.” 1986 at “the height” of AIDS: culturally, the crisis was already enormous. Epidemiologically, U.S. AIDS deaths continued rising and peaked later, in the mid-1990s. New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles. You know AIDS was everywhere. “Only the gays got AIDS”: presented as stigma and propaganda, not medical fact. The racism, sexism and antisemitism debriefs: invented in real time. He literally says, “let’s imagine what they might’ve said.” Do not cite them as conference minutes. The ice cream social: explicitly described as fictional embellishment. Ice cream remains unverified. Drug laws and racialization: broadly grounded in history. The bored opium-using housewives are rhetorical decoration. Marital rape: he is especially tentative here. There was no single early-1970s Supreme Court ruling abolishing the marital-rape exemption nationwide. Change happened state by state. Nebraska and Wisconsin were first to abolish the exemption in 1976; by 1993, every U.S. state criminalized rape or sexual assault of a spouse to some degree, although some still treated it differently. So the chronology is fuzzy. The seventeen-year arc is not. Israel, Palestinians and genocide: the monologue conspicuously becomes uncertain. He says he does not know enough to settle the terminology and notices himself wandering somewhere unintended. That hesitation matters. Why he went back into the auditorium: not recovered fact, but the episode’s central new hypothesis. Maybe he went back intending to come out. Maybe he went back to confront the facilitators and came out while doing so. He does not know. The student-council retreat: memory and present reconstruction are repeatedly distinguished. Some quoted-sounding material is explicitly paraphrase. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off: released in 1986. Whether a particular ditching adventure happened after he saw it would require a tighter timeline. Matthew Broderick and Torch Song Trilogy: yes, though the stage history is more complicated than the episode needs. The gold 1973 Cadillac: if he means a Seville, the year is wrong. The Seville did not exist as a 1973 model. Either the year or the model wandered. One thousand pennies equals ten dollars. At last, certainty. If anyone listening was actually there—at the conference, Mira Costa, student council, the hotel, near the Cadillac, or elsewhere in this mess—feel free to supply your no-doubt immaculate memory. Was it really around 3,000 people? What did the facilitators actually say? Was there an ice cream social? Did “Bi-High” really circulate around California? What happened at the retreat? What kind of Cadillac was it? What else has the author confidently, tentatively, or accidentally rearranged over forty years? Unfortunately, the artist has moved on. He cannot spend more time answering these questions. He will, however, read corrections, competing memories and eyewitness testimony. Which means there is every possibility they will become another episode.

    E4: This Is How I Spend My Evenings (Lucky Me!); S14: Close Out the Closer (Get Closer)

  5. Aug 30

    E3: Sex, Sex, Sex and a Phone; S14: Non-Suggestive Vietnamese Spring Rolls. Or: On Being Versatile

    You do realize this episode is called Sex, Sex, Sex and a Phone, right? And the artwork has a blue-haired guy on a telephone while a cute Vietnamese guy stands behind him making spring rolls. So naturally you might assume this episode is mostly about sex, telephones, or Vietnamese spring rolls. It is not. Those things are definitely in there. Eventually. Have you ever wondered what happens if you start talking with absolutely no idea where you're going? In this episode, you're going to find out. Hint: apparently you still go somewhere. Which raises the possibility that having a destination was never doing as much work as you thought. Have you ever listened back to yourself and realized that underneath a complicated argument you were basically asking: Am I significant enough? You'll find out what happens when I catch myself doing that—and decide not to throw the recording away just because I find myself embarrassing. Have you ever been with somebody for 26 years and still had no interest in getting inside their mind? My partner and I have different operating systems. Mine wants to focus on one thing until I've drilled through the center of the Earth. His can happily run a Korean drama, people gambling in Las Vegas, an iPad game, and something else on another screen while the television loses its sound. And he's fine. Have you ever wondered whether refusing to replace a sixteen-year-old refurbished television could be a personality trait? You're going to meet one possible case study. Have you ever wondered why somebody who almost never cries might cry at Tarzan? I have a theory. I don't actually know if it's true. Useful distinction. Have you ever heard of Attention Intensity Overload Disorder? No? That's because I made it up while talking. But if we call something a disorder, who decides whether it's producing a functional deficit? And functional according to whom? This leads, naturally, to counseling, diagnostic categories, Don Juanism, sex addiction, and my extremely scientific observation that many counselors apparently believe they're in the top 10 percent of counselors. Have you ever wondered whether gay men during the AIDS crisis might have had reasons for believing they were sexually compulsive because sex could kill them? And if you remove that consequence, what exactly are you treating? I went to Sexual Compulsives Anonymous for years. I liked programs. I still like programs. I like the instant community. The structure. The strange fast intimacy. But eventually I had to ask: If I enjoy having sex, enjoy meeting people, and the sex isn't interfering with anything I care about, precisely why am I supposed to want less of it? Don't worry. The episode does eventually become Sex, Sex, Sex and a Phone. I meet a hot guy at a bar. We have sex. We make plans for Laguna Beach. He doesn't show up when he's supposed to. By the time he reappears, I don't want him to come over. He comes over anyway. Things become uncomfortable enough that suddenly the telephone in my hand is not merely a telephone. Meanwhile, I already have plans with another guy. Very cute. Hot in an entirely different way. He's coming over to teach me how to make Vietnamese spring rolls. And here's the obscene part: We actually make Vietnamese spring rolls. That's it. Rice paper. Herbs. Food. Nobody makes a move. And somehow, decades later, the encounter where almost nothing happened may be the one that feels sweetest to remember. Have you ever noticed that? Sometimes the thing that almost happened remains more available to imagination than the thing that actually did. So yes. There is sex. There is more sex. There is a phone. There are completely non-suggestive Vietnamese spring rolls. But mostly there is a person walking home without a destination and discovering, in real time, that apparently the mind will manufacture one anyway. Which I guess makes me versatile. In more ways than one.

    E3: Sex, Sex, Sex and a Phone; S14: Non-Suggestive Vietnamese Spring Rolls. Or: On Being Versatile

  6. Aug 30

    E2: Statistically Significant Ant City; S14: Why not get smaller than right-sized? Life is fractal anyway.

    This episode begins with a very comforting question: What is the worst that could happen? I actually like that question. I remember watching a video with Peter Zeihan and several younger people who seemed to have come up through his orbit, all trying to work out what a plausible version of deglobalization, demographic decline, supply-chain disruption, and general societal wobbling might look like. Which I found reassuring. Not because I want civilization to collapse. I just like knowing where the floor might be. It is a strangely comforting way to plan a life. That has often been how I make decisions. I don't need to know that something will work. I need to know what happens if it fails spectacularly—and whether I can live with that. When my partner and I had been together for about two years, I quit my job, sold my condo, left my family and friends, applied to immigrate to Canada, and then moved with him to Indonesia while we waited. Worst case? We finally land in Canada, have a gigantic fight at the airport, break up, and there I am. In Canada. Fine. People had been telling me, essentially, If you don't like it here, leave, for most of my life. Okay. Done. I'm very glad to be here. Unfortunately, Canada lives upstairs from the United States, and when America sneezes, Canada gets a cold. America is currently doing considerably more than sneezing. So perhaps we're trying to get vaccinated through Europe and Asia. We'll see. This episode is another attempt to finish thinking about The Big Big City, which apparently required The Big Big City, The Bigger Big City, and now whatever this is. Because the thing that kept scratching wasn't really cities. It was scale. How large can a human system become before the human beings inside it become abstractions to one another? In a small school, the quarterback may also have to build the stage, help with the prom, and move some chairs because otherwise the chairs do not get moved. In a huge institution, every desirable role can have fifty applicants. In a village, you know the person selling you bread. In a metropolis, if you emotionally registered every human being you passed on the sidewalk as a complete person with grief, desires, hemorrhoids, childhood memories and plans for Thursday, you'd probably make it half a block. So we get efficient. We get specialized. We get competitive. We become statistically significant. And I know something about wanting to be significant. Art school. Plays. Reviews. Grants. Programs. Songs. Standing-room-only audiences. Being wanted in the room. Not necessarily fame. More like: Tell me I matter enough to have been invited. And then, once invited, I often wandered off and made something smaller. Which raises another possibility. Maybe right-sized is still too big. Why not get smaller than right-sized? Life is fractal anyway. An ant does not need to understand globalization. An ant gets up. An ant encounters whatever the enormous incomprehensible forces of the universe have put in front of it. Sugar. Rain. A shoe. And it does whatever an ant can do. That's where the coda ends up after briefly considering reincarnation, alien intelligence, God with stranger furniture, the blue genie from Aladdin, solipsism, world events, and several other little conceptual devices I have apparently used over the years to keep existence from becoming completely unmanageable. Not beliefs, exactly. More like tools. Because if the geopolitical analysts are right and some very large systems become less reliable, I cannot personally restart global fertilizer production. If they're wrong, I also cannot award them a prize. I can go to work. I can walk home. I can make something. I can help somebody. I can notice what is directly in front of me. I can be an ant. Which may sound like giving up until you consider how much ants accomplish without ever becoming statistically significant. The sun came up. That's enough.

    E2: Statistically Significant Ant City; S14: Why not get smaller than right-sized? Life is fractal anyway.

  7. Aug 30

    E1: Teen Help Line; S14: Sigh... Narrow Shoulders (Season Opener)

    A special hello to anyone who clicked because you saw Dolly Parton on the cover. I understand. Dolly died this week, at 80, and I don't think we quite knew what that was going to feel like until it happened. For me, it has had something of the quality of the Challenger explosion. Maybe it even exceeded it—not because the events are comparable, obviously, but because of what they do to the emotional atmosphere. Challenger happened while I was working on a teen helpline, and that night people called about everything. The shuttle blew up, and suddenly whatever grief they had already been carrying had someplace to go. Dolly feels a little like that. A very large, very familiar person disappears from the culture, and suddenly all these smaller disappearances start rattling around. Which is how we arrive at Keith. Keith is the boy on the right in the photograph. I'm the one on the left. Santa, as far as I know, is Santa. The original photograph also contained two girls, neither of whom deserved to be erased from history merely to improve my podcast artwork. But I erased them anyway. Artificial intelligence made this disturbingly easy. The funny thing is that one of the girls actually was Keith's girlfriend at the time, and after they broke up, I dated her. That happened more than once. I was not dating Keith's ex-girlfriends because I was especially interested in dating girls. I was interested in Keith. Dating his girlfriends after he was finished with them apparently made some kind of sense to my adolescent nervous system. The other girl was my friend Karin Robbins, whom I still know. She is also a counsellor now. So if this photograph appears on social media, I can tag her and give her an opportunity to discover that she has been removed from a Christmas photograph and replaced by Dolly Parton. You're welcome, Karin. And then, because simply deleting two women from a decades-old photograph wasn't absurd enough, I asked AI to put Dolly in the corner waving. I was genuinely surprised by how convincingly it produced a Dolly-like character. I had vaguely assumed there would be some rule against that—as though Dolly herself owned the legal rights to enormous blonde hair, rhinestones and being delighted to see you. Apparently my understanding of intellectual property is about as sophisticated as my understanding of most things discussed in this episode. For clarity: I do own this photograph. I do not own Dolly Parton. I don't think anyone ever did. And the amount of labour involved in removing Keith's girlfriends was dramatically less than the emotional labour involved in Dolly dying, which was itself perhaps dramatically less than the labour involved in being a teenager answering a helpline while the Challenger exploded. There may be a measurement problem here. Because this episode eventually gets around to a song about celebrating my life. Then I made a monologue that would contextualize the song and all its dead people. Some famous. Some not. Some who died of AIDS. Some from overdose. Some by suicide. One who flew off a cliff. And one boy—the boy who flew off the cliff—I remember him mostly because he had a dimple, beautiful brown eyes, very good hair, narrow shoulders, and knew what I was supposed to do with hairspray. Before I knew what any of that meant. That's probably why this photograph is here. Not because it's a photograph of death. It's a photograph from before. Before Keith became somebody I would remember as dead. Before I learned to organize people into causes of death. Before I knew that attraction could become identity, identity could become danger, grief could become repression, and a cute boy's shoulders could survive in memory much longer than almost anything else. So yes, Dolly is on the cover. She is waving. Santa seems fine. Keith is still there. I am still there. The girlfriends have been removed. History has been improved. Teen Help Line. Sigh. Narrow shoulders. Thanks Jason Riis for the guitar noodling.

    E1: Teen Help Line; S14: Sigh... Narrow Shoulders (Season Opener)

  8. Aug 29

    E10: Bringing a Knife to the Edge; S13: Clickbait Response to Clickbait (Don't worry, it's just Kaposi Sarcoma). Season Finale (Don't worry, Season 14 is on its way)

    I accidentally made the artwork for the last episode and this episode into one picture. Which is either a mistake, a concept, or a very efficient use of resources. The last episode was supposed to have the happy kid from Human Relations Camp, the homemade Costa is Gross banner, the little green Go light, all that teenage optimism and category-making and trying to figure out what identity even is. This one was supposed to have the motorcycle. The rainy street. The HOT_L sign with the E burned out. Hourly rates available. A man with Kaposi sarcoma. Methamphetamine. A hotel room. And me, still young enough to be learning what any of this meant, while AIDS had already turned sex, illness, shame, death, morality and public policy into one enormous f*****g knot. But I mixed the pictures together. So now I have to wonder why. Am I lazy? Possibly. Did I think, Well, the AI already knows what this picture looks like, so maybe I can save a little water and electricity by making it modify the same thing instead of starting over? Maybe. Does that actually save water and electricity? I have absolutely no idea. Probably not enough to justify congratulating myself. Maybe I wanted continuity. Maybe I wanted the two episodes to look almost identical so you would think you were still in the same place. Same kid. Same smile. Same name tag that says Rose. Same Los Angeles mythology. Same handmade sign. And then you look a little closer. The sign changed. The kid moved to the other side. The motorcycle got bigger. The hotel got closer. And now there are two lines of white powder across the top. Oops. Maybe that is the point. Maybe innocence and depravity are not opposites. Maybe they are just two photographs taken a few years apart. Maybe the smiling kid at Human Relations Camp and the young man in the hourly hotel are not before-and-after pictures in the way we usually like before-and-after pictures to work. Nobody fell from grace. Nobody became corrupted. Nobody wandered off the path. The path was already there. The kid was already living in a world where he liked boys and the television was telling him that boys who liked boys were dying. He was already calling a suicide line at thirteen and wondering whether somebody could find a cure—not merely for the disease, but for the thing in him that seemed to place him in its path. A few years later, he's in a room with a man who appears to be dying of that disease, trying to understand what people do when the world has pushed them toward an edge and then judges whatever they do there. Which is more or less where this episode goes. It starts with somebody posting a nice little list of admirable qualities—character, kindness, grace under pressure, honesty, putting others first, humility—and then the whole thing begins to rot beautifully. What is character when everybody is doing their best under completely different conditions? What is honesty when disclosure can cost you? What is kindness when you don't run out of the room? What is humility when society has already put you on the floor? What happens when people push you to the edge and then call you the villain for what you pull out of your pocket? And what happens when the knife isn't for them? This episode gets into self-harm, suicide, AIDS, drugs, sex, shame, survival, respectability, and the strange moral arithmetic people perform when they are standing safely in the middle and evaluating what somebody did out on the margin. Pasted text.txtTXT So maybe making the artwork resemble the previous episode is camouflage. Maybe I want you to glance at it and think: Oh, there he is again. That happy kid. This can't be that bad. And then— well. Bringing a Knife to the Edge. Season finale. Gross.

    E10: Bringing a Knife to the Edge; S13: Clickbait Response to Clickbait (Don't worry, it's just Kaposi Sarcoma). Season Finale (Don't worry, Season 14 is on its way)
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About

Started updating my bio Dec 31, 2023. Accidentally wrote four autofiction books. Slid from narrative into monologue—not stream-of-consciousness, more like speech-speed meaning performance. Trained my voice into AI, produced a shit-ton of pieces. Had too many. Needed a place to dump them. Saw a sign that said “Beware, Vicious Dog!” Misread it. Named the podcast Danger, Vicious Dog. Didn’t fix it. Just kept going. Queer. Cosmic. Sarcastic. Cheap. Accidentally committed to the bit. Some voice and art is AI... I don't know how I feel about that... so I'm working on figuring it out... how I feel.

Information

  • Creator
    TestTubeBaby
  • Years Active
    2026
  • Episodes
    137
  • Rating
    Explicit
  • Copyright
    © TestTubeBaby
  • Show Website
    Danger, Vicious Dog