(Pt. 1)
(Pt. 2)
Where to start…
Emil Ottoman. An interesting fella.
“The official unofficial editor of the Substack fiction tab.”
Here we discuss his sordid past dealing drugs, prison, firearms, stalkers, Casual Nihilism™, apartment living, benzodiazepine addiction, and we even get a surprise visit from his mother! That’s a first for us here at The Stack. Rambling writers, bobcat attacks, and moms.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” as the great George Constanza once said.
We know sex, drugs, and violence sell, so we do our best to deliver.
It’s 3:49 A.M. in Hereford, and I’m a goddamn wreck of a man, fumbling around on the laptop trying to download these fucking videos, insomnia nagging and gnawing, the neon pill bottle with seventy-eight K-pins luring me toward the drawer, every woman inhabiting my memory somehow amalgamating into one hellish siren, whispering my name in a low, seething tone. I don’t mind that last part, but the Klonopin’s a problem.
Such is life as a drug addict. I could say ex-addict, but this kind of horror never really leaves.
Which is why I was so interested in Emil’s benzo use.
Benzos are the only thing on Earth that successfully brought Jordan Peterson to his knees. (There’s a joke there.)
Eh?
We live in a drug-fueled world.
Every other commercial I see is a smiley advertisement for some terrible “medication” that probably causes anal leakage or homicidal psychosis.
Overweight? Can’t afford anything but frozen and ultra-processed food while the cunts in California shop for organic whale sperm at Erewhon? Mainline some Ozempic. Ozempic’s eating your stomach lining and muscle mass? Take some Zofran. Zofran’s giving you a splitting headache, turning your genitals into a corkscrew? No problemo, we’ll load you up on Imitrex. Oh, Jesus, now you’re depressed because of the corkscrew? C’mon, man. Eat some Prozac.
Prozac’s making you suicidal?
Don’t worry, we’ve got a pill for that, too™.
(Paid for by The Council To Addict Plebeians.)
^Actual transcript.^
………
I fell asleep.
Don’t get mad at me, it was seven in the morning.
Here I am in 1997 with AOL dial-up internet, and the line’s still ringing.
Just a few more notes—
Since my microphone wasn’t working, I had to restart the stream halfway through, which is why there are two videos instead of one. I’ve since dug up my lapel mic, so this shouldn’t be a problem going forward.
What’s The Stack without technical difficulties?
This Friday we have Kyle (Horrorble Writer), so stay tuned.
-Connor
This was all satire and Emil Ottoman is a psychotic liar. So is Dan Falatko.
Massively entertaining.