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Never leave home without it, KB!

Remember to pack it,


Is it me?

That's what it stands for, right?

Buttery Feet Fetishist,



Must’ve been a tiny person,


Edgar the Crow

…an injured American crow I found lying in the gutter near our apartment on Wednesday the 24th. Oddly enough, I found him just a few hundred feet from where I found Charles Cecil Carpenter last summer.

I couldn’t tell what was wrong with him, so I picked him up, put him in a box, and tried to figure out what to do next. As I walked back to our apartment, tons of crows started cawing at me from the trees above. They followed me, flying from tree to tree all the way back to our front gate. It was like a scene out of The Birds… minus all of the eyeball pecking. Thankfully.

Edgar the Crow

I decided to take Edgar to the California Wildlife Center in Calabasas. After an hour-long drive there, a $20 donation, and a two-hour drive back, Edgar was finally in good hands. At the very least, he wasn’t lying beak-down in the gutter.

Yesterday, I called in to check on him. The CWC wasn’t sure what was wrong with Edgar; still, they rattled off a long list of possibilities. He may have been malnourished. He could have been suffering some sort of nerve damage, or been struggling with a neurological disorder. He might have had the West Nile Virus, or just been an elderly crow who was going through the final stages of life.

To be honest, it didn’t matter what was wrong with Edgar because he died the next day, Thursday the 25th. My birthday.

Edgar the Crow: ? - September 25th, 2014

Sorry I couldn’t be more help, Edgar. At the very least, I hope I made your final 24 hours on this planet a little bit better than being beak-down in the gutter.

Learn more about the California Wildlife Center (and donate if you can) here.

At least I got an interesting story out of it,


Summerfest Tickets = FOUND! But of no use to anyone anymore.

…I finally found those Summerfest tickets you asked me to give away.

Nine days too late,


I found him!

I know it might seem like I sit at home all day long, drinking whiskey and updating The Blarg, but the truth is I spend much of my day writing.

Lately, most of that writing has been on long-form projects, like screenplays, teleplays, detailed pitches, and (those ever-dreaded) rewrites. The shortest of these projects come in around 30 pages; the longest ones top out around 120.

Because of this, I sometimes take an hour or so to write a short comedic sketch (between one to ten pages) to break up the monotony of those more long-form projects. Over the past couple years I’ve written about a dozen of them; but while they’re fun to write as an exercise, nobody ever really gets to read them.

So to remedy this, I’ve decided to put them out there for everyone to read. I’m doing this for two reasons:

1. I like to share! That, and it’s better than having them sit on my hard drive until I’m dead.

2. It’s my hope that someone out there might be inspired to actually do something with them. Want to film it as a short? Awesome. Interested in animating it? Go for it. Feel like performing it onstage somewhere? I double-dog dare you. All I ask is that you give me credit where it’s due, and (if possible) send me a copy of the final product to check out. I’ll even put it up on The Blarg to share with the four people who visit my site. Hi, Doherty!

The third of Shady’s Shorts is called “Found.”

Download it by clicking below.


I had to rush this one while it was still somewhat topical.

Number two,


“Found” is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Created by Justin Shady, ©2014.
Creative Commons License

What a cutie!

…crawling on our wall.

He’s living somewhere out in the courtyard now.

Just can’t bring myself to squish ’em,


FOUND: Jay-Z's baseball.

…we found your baseball.

Send me your address if you want it back.

He’s got 99 problems and a lost baseball is just one,


Another dog rescued!

That’s dog #7 in a little over four years,


Two dirty socks in the lobby of TD Canada Trust bank in Vancouver!

If these are yours, ask yourself why you’re leaving dirty socks in a bank lobby.

So gross,


Old Poop!