Taking a look around planet earth’s current economic climate, you may notice skills in traditional, detached, consumerism remain coveted. Selling a smartphone app that simulates a fidget spinner is a responsible financial investment in 2017.

Time requires recognition. We need weeks and months. We need weekends and birthdays. We need start dates, end dates, buzzer-beaters, and summer haircuts.

When did we lose the ability to rest?

Ghost Little officially re-launched a few months ago. It has been home to roughly 20 blog posts, each featuring and four original book samples availalbe for download.

Some posts were fantastic. Some were good. A few were inadequate. Without the site's re-launch though, there would have been no inadequate posts, good posts, or fantastic posts. Without the sight of the inadequate posts gracing our presence, the barometer for quality would not have been set.

And most important, the book samples—Ghost Little's reason for existing—would not exist. They would be as real as anybody who only plays an eletric guitar plugged into headphones.

The NFL playoffs are a go! Man, it sure does suck that all of the games this last weekend went the opposite way I had hoped. That's alright though, I had no chicken in any of those cockfights. The Pats don't play until this weekend. Coincidentally, they're playing the Texans again, which made me recall the last time they played the Texas on a Monday night game.

Fucking Monday Night Football, man.

Watching Monday Night Football on ESPN is like going home for Christmas if your family lived inside of a giant whale. Not only is it a giant whale, it's the most popular whale in the world! Normally you just check out the whale when it swims by. What a majestic animal! I'd prefer to observe whales from the outside. It's less horrifying. However, on this occasion, you have to go home, into the whale, and sit on its tongue while you watch its insides churn with the assistance of an efficient, transparent bile.

"An inexperienced film-junkie still in his larval form though might call it the best mobster movie since Goodfellas and he'd be unanimously fucking wrong."

The trouble with good movies is that people often try too hard to like them. Hungry people try too hard to like them. Students are particularly hungry for identity and for understanding and there's a lot to like in movies they've been told are great and there's no reason not to like them. Like scarves and black coffee, great movies pick up fair-weather fans, and more relevantly, gloom-weather fans. They can be powerful. These movies can cause pretty heavy impact, unloading weighty messages that free minds can't help but cull for meaning. It can be too much though. In the vernacular, they can fuck with young heads.

"When the ultimate frisbee sports-club that you're enamored with—which is meant to be the healthy evolution from competition-driven traditional sports—quickly turns into a clusterfuck of LSD and wardrobes of unaddressed sexuality, you've got a contradiction on your hands."

In the grand scheme of personal vices and obsessions, we'd rate Ultimate Frisbee just below World of Warcraft and just above Bible Club.