I used to call myself an artist as if that were some romantic thing to be. That being an artist meant being this person with exceptional talent and insight. Now I think life is a lot like walking through a carwash. We’re all getting deluged with stimuli, slapped by circumstance, abused, blasted, hosed by a torrent of the daily, weekly, monthly, yearly facts of living. And often we’re asked, or ask ourselves, ‘What is all this?!’ Most people just shake their heads. How do you describe it? A few of us are able to pull ourselves away from it all…


We all know this is a big election. Americans have already turned out in record numbers to express themselves on the key issues that will impact all of our lives both now and far into the future. And don’t get me wrong, I would love to join them and make my voice heard at the voting booth this year. Sadly, I just don’t think it’ll make much of a difference. You see, I live in a state that’s basically never up for grabs politically — in a universe devoid of meaning, morals, or reason.

I’ve always wanted to participate in…


Citizens of Alderaan, lend me your ears. Or the side of your skull with the most intact ear-hole. As you float through the dust that was once your planet, it’s understandable to have doubts about the future of Galactic Empirical governance on Alderaan. But now more than ever we must unite in the face of the rebels, and place our full faith and support in us, Death Star Command.

Just look upon the small chunks of debris that were everything you once knew and loved as they drift into space. That’s what things would be like in a rebel-lead galaxy…


“They want three and a half billion dollars for something that’ll turn out to be fraudulent, that’s election money basically. They want three and a half billion dollars for the mail-in votes. Universal mail-in ballots. They want $25 billion, billion, for the Post Office. Now they need that money in order to make the Post Office work so it can take all of these millions and millions of ballots,”

-Donald Trump, 8/13/2020

My fellow Republicans, our supposed colleagues across the aisle have found their next dirty political tactic to tamper with our election and rig our democracy in their favor…


“Stop treating us like animals and thugs and start treating us with some respect … Our legislators abandoned us. The press is vilifying us. It’s disgusting.”

NYCPBA President Mike O’Meara, 6/9/20

I’m here today on behalf of the NYPD, because we’re sick of the abuse we face in this country. For too long, we’ve put up with threats, taunts, dehumanizing humiliations, and being treated exactly the way we treat the public. And now, after 400 long hours of suffering, it’s time it came to STOP.

All week, I’ve read in the papers that mothers are afraid of sending their children…


Graffiti on a boarded up window in Latham Square, Downtown Oakland. All photos by Andrew Singleton.

Three nights ago, I sat on the roof of my apartment building in downtown Oakland, watching a helicopter strafe above the blasts and shouts and smoke drifting up from the crevasses of the downtown skyline a few blocks away. A firework silently floated into view and exploded, sending pink and red tracers into the dangerously tight spaces between the glass high-rises. Sirens streamed past endlessly — the high-pitched wail of police cars, the low steam-whistle bellow of firetrucks, the choppy, frantic squeal of an ambulance. The helicopter dipped out of its pattern and charged toward me, stopping to hover barely…


“Republican Gov. Brian Kemp plans to open nail salons, massage therapists, bowling allies and gyms from Friday… The move, which is even more aggressive than President Donald Trump’s optimistic call for a May 1 reopening, came after a week in which total US pandemic deaths doubled to more than 42,000.”

-CNN, April 21 2020

Friends, family, loved ones and well-wishers, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of someone who many of us loved very deeply, and the rest of us knew well on a purely intellectual level. Today, we honor our beloved Male, 68, Fatality Number 33597, — who sadly passed away last week in a completely predictable and preventable way because not letting him die was getting in the way of making money.

As we remember Male, 68, Fatality Number 33597, or to those of us who knew his case, just good ol’ 33597, it’s hard…


Hello! Thank you for meeting with us today. We’re excited to begin undertaking our magnificent brand mission, and we believe that you are the agency to help. Because humans are this ecosystem’s dominant species here, and of course because we, too, are humans, it’s imperative to our directive that we develop a human-sounding brand voice.

In order to accomplish our directive, it’s critical to communicate with humans via messages that are based on data driven, scientifically tested, peer-reviewed insights about their behaviors. But relatable, like the data driven, scientifically tested, peer-reviewed insights your grandmother used to tell you. …


Hello my coworker-bees (Get it? Worker bees!)!

Just following up on this morning’s meeting. Top-line: great work. Like, so great. Everyone is doing a fantastic job! To recap, we agreed on a campaign direction — “Be Great Greatly” (love it!). So for next week, we’ll need thoughts on how we can bring “Being Great Greatly” (so love it) to life. Eric and Miriam, you guys are the only two left on the account since Jeremy’s gone, so you two lead the way. And don’t be afraid to get in there and crack some skulls!

Next on the agenda, we have…


She told me I was special,

my teacher Miss McVay

She said, “You’re special person.

You’ll do special things someday.

You’ll be a special president, an emperor, a king.

If you put your mind to it,

you could do anything”

But I grew up and years went by

And so special anymore

So I went back to Miss McVay

and knocked upon her door

I asked ‘how come I didn’t

do all those special things you said I’d do?’

She looked me right dead in the eye

and said

“Who the hell are you?”

Andrew Singleton

Writer, photographer, artist, ad creative, eater, breather, sleeper. Published on McSweeney’s, Medium, and the occasional bathroom wall.

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