If you’re familiar the internet, odds are you’re intimate with memes. We’ve seen them all—Lady Gaga in A Star is Born, mocking Spongebob, Drake in basically anything—except memes specific to Columbus. Allow us to fill your void.
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Malamarkus, Our Skeleton Lord, calls The Book Loft of German Village his home, and, aside from updates on Twitter, is generally clouded in mystery. I sought out the Skeleton Lord himself (don’t ask me about my method of contact — it definitely wasn’t an offering of snail shells and goose feathers carried by ravens to The Pit) to try to clear up exactly what Malamarkus is all about.
Most religions have some really strong tenets. The Ten Commandments, the Golden Rule, etc. Aside from supporting indie bookshops, what are the tenets of following Malamarkus? Also, what’s official name of Malamarkus’ religion?
The Followers must adhere to the rules of Nothing and No One, and only the Good will be sacrificed into The Pit, the den of Perpetual Sadness. We do not have a “name” and are only bound to the Ultimate Release of Death.
What exactly is going to happen during Ascension? (Which, by my count, will take place on Dec. 8, 2020)
Nice Damn Try, buddy.
How do you, Malamarkus the Skeleton Lord, feel about Old Town Road by Lil Nas X featuring Billy Ray Cyrus?
If it’s good for the Electric Slide, then it is fine by Me.
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Are there any authors that you would like to extend a formal invitation to The Pit to? (pls make George R.R. Martin hurry up with the ASOIAF books. pls.)
The Followers Book Club have just started reading “Ancient Oceans of Central Kentucky” by David Connerley Nahm (Two Dollar Radio), which is Damn Good but a formal invitation could only go to Mary Berry, The Mother of Us All.
Last question: You have a few sentences to convince any skeptics out there to convert to following Malamarkus. What do you say or do to make a true believer out of someone?
Convert or be boiled alive with the other Sinners and Rat Bastards.
Strangely, just before publication, the (614) offices were contacted by the Wow! signal once again. (Read to catch up.) This time, we were able to pin down the exact source of the radio transmission and translate the conversation.
Who are you? Where are you from?
I am a highly-intelligent sentient lifeform from a far away galaxy beyond your reasoning. My vocal orifice is specially designed to translate my thoughts into whatever language you need to understand—Latin, English, Klingon, I am fluent in all. My home planet was destroyed in an intergalactic war. We fought bravely and honorably for our planet, but alas our star soldier made an unexpected move in free agency during the offseason and joined the enemy. While all was lost, I am the only survivor who lives to speak of the travesties. My name is Todd.
Wow, that sounds terrible. Wait? Your name is Todd… Really?
Indeed. Is there something wrong?
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No, it just seems like a highly-intelligent lifeform from a far away planet would have a weirder, I mean, more complex—you know what? Never mind. Why did you choose to reach out to Columbus?
If there is a problem with my name, I can gladly start up the nuclear converter engine and go elsewhere. This is your first interview with a new lifeform and you’re stuck on my name? Is that all you humans do? Is “Don’t judge a book by its cover” a thing in this city? Oh my globba-glob-gob, you humans are all the same. When I contacted this technologically-deficient city in the 70s, at least they had the decency to ignore me just like how you all ignored the restaurant that contained the statues of our gods.
Gods? Alien gods in a restaurant?
Yes. We wanted to warn them of the impending prophecy of destruction by urban development—that eventually all things alien would be replaced with the sad trappings of human suburbia. But our message was intercepted and our beautiful temple was bulldozed into oblivion and became a chain drugstore and a frozen food line. Typical humans.
All right, Todd. No need to get defensive. So what’s time travel like?
Don’t patronize me. I have more intelligence and knowledge in my ninth phalange than your entire existence has combined. How dare you? I know the cure to diseases that have plagued your kind for a millennium. I’ve traveled to planets your puny machines wouldn’t last a second on. I’ve seen organisms that defy your understanding of biology. I am an organism that defies your understanding of biology!
And your name is… Todd??
Forget this, I’m calling Ann Arbor. *hangs up*
“There’s two types of people in this world: good, kind, respectful people, and criminals who dispose of their dog’s waste in other people’s trash bins.” — Aaron Lee, Clintonville Man.
Passionate is one way to describe Lee’s drive for justice. When it comes to morning walkers, afternoon joggers, and evening strollers with their pups, Lee has smelled enough.
“They just dump their dumps in my dumpsters. I don’t get it.”
So what is a man to do when the poo is piling in your garbage cans? Lee suggests catching them in the act.
“I’ll sit in this damn garbage can all weekend if I have to,” Lee proudly stated. “If it takes a lifetime, I will fight for justice. I encourage my fellow community members to follow me in this act of courage.”
When asked what the big deal is about bagged doggy poo mingling with his other garbage, Lee slowly and quietly closed the lid to his trash can and did not return for further questions.
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