Accelerating my nonsense until the bullshit stops.

Allow yourselves to be guided by kindness, bearing in mind as you go along that most people are insane.

Crumble up a few pieces of stale bread into your May morning to stretch it further.

I'm trying to remember the name of that one memoir. It was hot out; there might have been a mother. Ringing any bells?

Maybe I'll give it all up and move to the 19th century for the summer.

Maybe a little sweetness today? For me, I mean. I know how obsessed you people are with your savory Fridays.

Here's my very human promise: no AI, not for me, not ever, never. It will never be in any writing you see from me. I'd sooner die.

I don't care if you found it for free: do not dredge up AI-based mulch and drag it home to your rosebeds. You don't know what kinds of pathogens it carries.

Thanks, but I prefer my enemies diabolical, smart, extremely hot, & often wearing low-cut leather pants.

Cinnamon toast will easily solve seven or eight of your problems.

Go through your days assuming everyone you meet is insane. I promise you you'll never be disappointed.

I'm reading a book and really enjoying it. I already knew almost all the words but they're arranged in an order I've never seen before.

Joy is resistance. Buying my book is also resistance. Buying two copies of my book? Well, joy shared will reseed itself and multiply.

Fold down the upper right-hand corner of today so you can find it again later and remember. You can dog-ear your own Friday; it's not a library copy.

Good night from my perch over on the far end of the world, where the drinks are free and quiet time never ends.

The Callow Method is the only path to enlightenment.

Tuck a few of my sentences behind your ears when you want to feel fancy.

Six years ago today, Allen and the Allens made its debut with a cover of this tune by the marvelous Heather Styka.

Hold on, everyone. I have to go out for a bit this morning. Nobody say anything good while I'm gone. You know I can't bear to miss out.

I need at least a handful of you people to become billionaires so you can bankroll my preferred reality into existence: Heaven on earth for everyone.

We're waging a campaign against the first person now? Can I not have one thing in this life to love?

How do I maintain the stamina to minister to the downhearted year after year? Uppers, mostly. Some carbs.

Along with a heart-healthy diet, 30 minutes of enemy smiting each day reduces your risk of stroke by 90%.

Is this the complaints department?

I suppose I could make space within the Goldblattian universe for a friendly little vodka tonic.

Today is a beautiful day for it! Whatever you might be dreaming of: let's hope it's today.

Take hold of a Saturday by its horns, I always say, and squeeze out all the goodness it's been hoarding all week.

I can't say for sure I wouldn't kick a double negative out of bed for eating crackers. At my age, a good double negating is hard to find.

I know there's a lot of chaos and misery afoot, but Duchess Goldblatt has a cold. Make haste with the well wishing.

I visited with a friend recently. Luckily I always keep my butterfly net at hand in case one wanders by. Long story short, your pal Duchess is ready to slay all oncoming dragons again. Let them try.

I prescribe one FROG by Anne Fadiman followed by a dose of THE COMPANY OF OWLS by @pollyrowena.bsky.social if symptoms persist.

Never worry! I picked up all your lost hours overnight and I'll parcel them back out when a benevolent mood strikes.

Daylight is irrelevant if you have the metric system, because it measures time not in hours but by weight, using kitchen scales. That's only because the international governing bodies couldn't agree on the duration of a coffee spoon.

By how many years are we all setting our clocks ahead?

Greetings, new friends! You may know me as an author, a prolific Bluesky poster and 4th place finisher on So You Call That Dancing? But you might not know that my partner Judith (@mzpress) and I have an online arts bookstore that's growing every day. Full inventory here: mzs.press/EVERYTHING-W...

I've been so weirdly busy that I forgot to tell you the paperback is coming out Tuesday. It's a steal. us.macmillan.com/books/978125...

All I'm saying is whenever you force your brain and body to perform the tricks that you've assigned value, they meet up in secret while you sleep and plan their revenge.

Take your eternal spirit out for a drive around town with the windows down. Introduce it to your friends. Buy a round of drinks for once.

If you don't see me visiting you in your dreams, you might examine your life choices, starting with the snacks you have on offer.

Obviously yes, I will watch the new "Pride and Prejudice," but I won't undergo the procedure quietly.

Always "the hand looks worse today; they're covering it with more makeup" and never "the carcass is on the side of the road." When, Lord?

I know you're thinking a lobotomy sounds pretty good right about now, but hear me out: there may be downsides.

Tiptoe around me tomorrow. Eggshells, everyone. Whisper. Refrain. My old heart, while famously load bearing, has its limits.

Good night, beloved weirdos. I look forward to seeing the tomfoolery you get up to tomorrow.

I didn't realize they let men play hockey now, too! Three cheers for inclusivity!

Obviously you will all be called upon to avenge me after my death, but now I'm thinking, why wait? Get out there and prevenge.

Protect your heart from breaking by padding it with soft cheese.

Clearly I haven't been swaddling you people tightly enough at bedtime. You're all floppy and loose. Prepare to be snug.

God's promise to me has not yet come to pass, but it will. I take these words from Colin Dickey as a happy omen.

Today's advice column, brought to you by @summerbrennan.bsky.social, is to link arms with somebody nearby who's in cahoots with the forces of good.