I wonder why no major mainstream entertainment industry has embraced the jackalope for an anthropomorphized entertainment character. All the other critters are played out, cats and dogs and ducks and mice. I noticed they have been reaching for more exotic animals to entertain us, like Prairie dogs and sloths and wooly mammoths and whatever the fuck that thing in Disney's 'Stich' was. I think jackalopes would be great. You could have some real watership-down type movie, except with jackalopes. Everyone would break down and cry when the anthropomorphized jackalope hero dies at the end. The maybe, just maybe, whatever message the movie is trying to send might make an impact.
It's hoodie weather out. I have my hoodie. Someone should make a song about hoodie weather. Someone other than me. This coming cold front also removed a lot of the humidity in the hair, something I am thankful for because I hate going out to my car in the morning and finding it encased in water droplets. Not only does it make it difficult to see out the windows, but when I start driving down the road all the drops on the roof of the car converge into a single water blob and then trickles in the crack of my cheap plastic Saturn car door and lands on me, which makes me cry like a little girl.
Last night when I was doing laundry I put a freshly washed pad on my bed and realized that a pad is actually mattress underwear.
Here's a target markdown tip that is interesting to know: Target's full prices end in 9. So the first price tag will be $14.99 or $27.99, something like that. Then, every time Target discounts the product, the final digit of the price drops. The lowest the last digit will drop is 4. If you see something you want at Target and the price ends in 4, buy it. The price won't go any lower.
2026 Update
Setting my dial for 19 years ago, when Ed wanted Hollywood to make jackalopes weep.
Ah, 2007: the age of web opinions about jackalopes, hoodie weather, long mornings with windows misted over, and Target price-tag code-breaking. Nineteen years later, that Saturn has gone to the great junkyard in the sky, and your car is not the only thing with a camera—your phone has more lenses than a mall optician and records you parking. The Target hunt is now an app-surveillance ritual; the last digit of the price has been replaced by “deal of the day” and a subscription fee, God help us. Entertainment hasn’t embraced the jackalope, but it hardly matters: culture no longer waits for a movie to tell us what to anthropomorphize; we just make endless franchises out of TikTok songs. Hoodie weather remains, and still no decent anthem, so I assume artists were waiting for someone exactly as annoying as you to complain first. Your mattress-underwear observation, however, remains undefeated.
“2007 Ed, why was your first instinct for a must-cry animal a jackalope when the real tragedy was that single water blob rolling off your Saturn's roof and straight down your collar—did you ever fix that seal, or did you just drive around wet and angry?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2007 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, you got me there. The jackalope thing was pure logic, I mean, every other critter’s been done to death, and a rabbit with antlers is just begging for a tragic death scene. But you’re right, the real tearjerker is that Saturn. I tried fixing the seal once, bought some sticky weatherstripping at Big Lots, spent a good hour pressing it into the door crack, and it worked for maybe a week. Then the Florida heat peeled it off and I was back to getting baptized by roof water every morning. So no, I did not fix it. I just drive around wet and angry, muttering about Target markdowns and dreaming of a jackalope who would understand my pain. That rabbit would cry with me, not on me.
