So, I’ve been at this for a while. The whole TShirt thing. Long enough that we used to have shirts silkscreened [curiously, I'm wearing one of the silkscreened ones at the moment], in a time before Print on Demand was really considered, let alone perfected.

Then we got the PoD thing, which…sucked. For about five years. It seriously sucked. To whatever extent things were technically commercial and industrial, it was still largely a matter of ironing plastic printouts onto fabric. And it just sucked.

Then came direct printing, a few years ago. And it sucked less, though not to the exclusion of suction. Finally, nowish, it’s working pretty well. So that only took ten years.

That’s almost completely irrelevant. All of it. If you’ve been speedreading the first couple words of each paragraph up to this point, you didn’t miss much. Yet.

In the years we’ve been outsourcing to PoDs, I’ve run into a few thousand other people—from reasonably famous professionals to housewives—doing the same thing. And, being something like goaloriented, not a few tended to resolve to come up with a new shirt every day. Which sounds like a good way to develop a catalogue, until you remember that even those who are actually pretty good at this, if uploading 365 different shirts in a year, will inevitably upload 362 which totally suck.

Which I understand, and embrace, and don’t care about. So that’s not quite the point either.

Except that I happened to think about that tonight, for some reason. And that didn’t work for me because, while thinking that—hey—I could probably strive to work up a shirt a day to rebuild volume now that I’m concentrating largely on zazzle.com, I didn’t actually have anything to work up today, specifically.

But there’s the slushpile. Neurologists call it my brain; but what would they know. The slushpile is this vast junkdrawer of unrelated ideas for shirts and novels and whatever. Most of the stuff in there is either too dumb to waste time trying to do [incidentally, ninety percent of the time I waste the time to do it anyway, I'm wrong and everyone loves it], too hard to do at all, or both.

But, I had nothing better to do. So I grabbed a tricky one, in the sense that it’s actually graphical instead of just typed out, which has always seemed a bit stupid, but which I’ve kinda wanted to do for years now. So I did it. And it looks like this:

As for its stupidity: within ten minutes of mentioning that I’d done it at facebook.com, I was collecting thumbs up over it. So: wrong again. Which is maybe good in this case.

So, there. Making a different shirt every day. For two days now. I need a vacation.
—Gremlin

Not really. Well, kinda. On various things. Many of them videogames. More in the sense that I’m playing them than writing them. But also I’ve been doing some actual stuff. A little.

Funny is that it occurred to me that, for all I’ve been staying up for about sixty hours in a row, sleeping for two or three, and doing it all again: I’ve really only put a couple hours of effort into doing anything I’m really supposed to be doing at the moment.

So, with that in mind, I took a break from taking breaks and did something.

If you can’t make it out, the shirt over to the right reads, obviously, I’ve Been Working 24/7 Lately, then followed in smaller print by Twenty-four Divided by Seven Is—What—Like, Three and a Half Hours?

Since it, you know, is.

I’ve never understood people writing out 24*7 as 24/7. Or why they don’t just go with 168. Is it because they suck at math? No wonder they spend so much time working. You could lose them for hours on breaks alone. Okay…a bottle of Coke in the soda machine is a dollar…and I have three dollars…so the Coke would be 1/3…and that’s…thirty-three cents….or nine bucks…I dunno; wait here: I’ll go ask Bob….

And Bob’s probably got this shirt on. Because Bob’s really cool. See what I did there? Peer pressure. You will consume…you will consume….

Anyway: there. I did something. Now I’m either gonna go back to playing MafiaWars at facebook.com, or just write a PHP game I won’t get angry at.
—Gremlin

So, I’m sitting here splitting my efforts between trying to get facebook.com to believe me at all about a wastedinc page and reminding myself to not go out and kill everyone I encounter. As of now, that’s roughly fifty/fifty. Very, very roughly.

The problem is that facebook.com is in a word retarded. Or, in two words, developmentally disabled. Though, since we’re talking about an IT App, it’s DevDis, which is kinda like one word again. I’d put DevDis on a shirt; but it might be too soon to expect anyone to get it, since I probably coined that about ten seconds ago.

Maybe not. There’s a DevDis.com out there already; though it probably doesn’t mean the same thing. Call it a homonym.

Here’s what I’ve got done at facebook.com to date:

Wasted, Inc.

Wasted, Inc. on Facebook

So, not much.

The idea, I guess, is that you click on that and, if you’ve got an account at facebook.com already [nice of them to assume], you can elect to become a fan [nice of us to assume] and help to spam spread the word about Wasted’s little fanpage thing at facebook.com. Which I’m led to understand is supposed to be helpful in some way. If perhaps only to facebook.com. Who can guess.

Anyway: that’s set up. Apparently. So, if you’re into clicking on things to become a fan of them, knock yourself out. If not, that works too; I’m sure three or four billion other people will become fans in no time, giving us a majority and allowing for the Wasted, Inc., Industrial Complex New World Order. Because—let’s be real—as the new oligarchy, it’s not like we could really make matters much worse. Free cookies for all, or something.

We’re working on the benefits in the WIICNWO scheme; but we’re leaning toward free cookies, as of now.
—Gremlin