Quid Pro Code: (n.)


The reciprocal exchange of streaming passwords.


Look. We all do it. And they know we do it. And we know they know we do it. And they know we know they know we do it…

If this is how we’re going to spend out time, can we at least have a little fun with it? Go all Deep Throat on it?Wait on a park bench until your friend shows up in big fuckoff, Sophia Loren sunglasses and say some baffling passcode sentence? “It is a cold day for water polo.” “I’m sorry, Mr. Terwilliger couldn’t come.” Or hell, you could be even more surreptitious! Don a trenchcoat and a trilby and kick your AppleTV+ password to a friend in the gloom of an overnight parking lot! Comeon! The world is ending! Nothing means anything! Let’s be referential and have some fun with it!

I wish I lived in the 70s…

The Poetics of Pooh: On the Urge to Unsee and the Act of Imagining


So, I don’t ever really post anything here that isn’t a new word. But I wrote this thing, and Brevity published it… so I’m gonna go ahead and break my own rule.

Poohdism could count as a new word, right? Sure.

There. I’ve broken and mended my rule.

BREVITY's Nonfiction Blog

A guest post from Andrew Panebianco, on the act of imagining:

433I don’t have time to get into the entirety of Pooh with you. Even if I were able to.

Because as you probably know, Pooh has his own Tao, now.

So let’s leave it here—there’s an immensity to Pooh. There’s a touch of eternity to all his bumbling; a bottomlessness to his most rumbly of tumblies.

There’s a stare into the open eye until the closed eyes open kind of Zen to Pooh.

He’s got Pooh-dist leanings, you could say.

I want to talk about everything that makes Pooh, Pooh. But I don’t even understand it all. So instead I’ll focus on a single point—my very favorite moment, from my very favorite character, from my very favorite story from the entire World of Pooh.

Which is my very favorite.


Here’s how it starts:

Christopher Robin has sent Pooh off…

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