Reflecting Day: A Look Back on Our First Month

It has been an entire month since you switched your diet to 100% Hot Dog. Your toilet is in ruins, you have to wear prescription pants, and your gut bacteria have just invented language solely so they have a word for “apocalypse.” But your soul? Your soul is finally free. 

Over the last four weeks we have laughed, we have cried, we have punched and fucked and we have done all of those at the same time. We may have even learned a few things along the way. Terrible things.

We do not speak of the things we know on Fridays. That knowledge is the payment we offer for our mirth. But today is Saturday: this is Reflecting Day. This is the time to think back on our successes, to deny our failures, and to attack those trying to help us grow. With that in mind, let’s do a little check in: How do you feel about our first month? What else would you like to see from us in the future? Please tell us how you’d like to see us grow, but do keep in mind that:

1. Seanbaby is a semi-professional kickmonster.
2. I am an enthusiastic amateur arsonist.
3. I just warned you what happens when you help us.

I’m doing this all wrong. This is the one day a month where we are required to let our guards down and be real, earnest human beings, no matter how bad we are at that. 

I’m proud of what we’ve done so far, and I am astounded at how quickly we’ve grown. My goal for the month was $2,000, and we smashed that in a week. My new goal was $2500, because I figured we’d slow down after that initial burst. We demolished that milestone three days later. “$3000” I said, “surely we cannot pass $3000 in our very first month.” We eviscerated that goal and sent pieces of it back to its family just in case they thought of revenge. My new goal is “no goals,” because I know everything I set up will only be destroyed, and I’m starting to feel a little bad for these poor numbers. 

When I first lost my job at Cracked, I was lost and heartbroken. You don’t do something every day for 13 years without growing way too attached. I had no idea what life looked like after Cracked. A couple weeks later, Sean emailed me about starting something together, and my gears started turning again. You could literally see the change in me. My wife said that I had a whole different look on my face. I started actually wanting to get up in the morning. I had completely forgotten what it was like to just write comedy. How satisfying it was, sure, but also just how much fucking work it is. My god, we went into this site thinking it would be a part time gig that maybe grew into something more eventually, but apparently neither of us can make fun of a How-to book on puppet sex in anything less than a thousand words. We are both basically full time on this, and the weirdest part is that I am seriously excited to do even more as it grows.

And it’s going to grow: Our biggest, most immediate plans are for a new external site, because Patreon might be a lifeline for artists now that the ad-market has collapsed, but it sure is ugly. It’ll still work with your Patreon accounts though — I know our audience; I know how you worry that you might have to do a thing. There will be zero work on your end, and an immediate benefit: It’s the only wish you’ve ever made.

We have other long term goals mapped out, and if you haven’t taken a look at them yet, maybe give that a shot. Let us know how you feel about them, and if there’s something else you’d like to see there. But please keep in mind that, especially with the world in flux like this, some things are going to change. First affected: Our Hot Dog Supreme tier. 

We were going to ship our first slate of Artifacts from the Wrong Dimension on May 1st, but obviously we don’t know if that’s possible right now. We don’t even know if there will still be a post office then, or if we’ll just have to entrust comic books that teach you about masturbation to random road marauders. The thing about random road marauders is that they’re actually pretty good couriers — you’ll get your package, but they might lay siege to your compound afterward. And we don’t want to send a man wearing nothing but a hockey mask and a loincloth to your door unless you specifically request it.

But rest assured that if you’re a Hot Dog Supreme by the end of April, you’ll still be getting your shipment eventually. Even if the world’s collapsing economy means you can no longer afford to flip a fifty to your favorite dick joke artisans through summer, you’ll still get the shipment you signed up for. Though frankly, when the dick joke economy replaces this fragile ‘paper currency’ fad, you will come to regret your decision.

One thing we can do for our Supreme beings today: we’ve got our first round of credits up. They live on our about page for now, but they’ll get a more official place once our external site launches. Here are our current Hot Dog Supremes, in all their terrible majesty:

NickH: The “what” in every “my god, what could have done this?”

Rhia: Whose name means “irresistible all-beef” in every language.

Nick Ralston: Villain Monthly’s two-time Handsomest Lair Intruder.

Zdarfan: The unstoppably chinned maniac with no Maniac License.

John: The reason no truck-stop bathroom stall has a functioning lock.

Dean Costello: The Meanie of Weanie, the First Chair Cello of Hot Dog Jello.

Matt Reiley: Our only patron at any level with no criminal food fetishes.

Also watch for your names in the footers of upcoming articles. That’s right, you folks just became sponsors! While that is a great honor, PoxCo is a jealous mistress and you should absolutely seal your windows and practice safe social distancing from all loved ones or duplicated objects. You need at least ten feet to be out of mimic proboscis range.

While the Hot Dog Supremes may get and deserve special treatment like the gods they are, you all need to remember that, at any tier, you’re at least demigods to mortal society. Human laws no longer apply to you. Their morals are the punchlines to jokes only you know, and are too bored with to even chuckle at. Your ill-advised passion for dick jokes and near complete inability to budget responsibly is keeping us doing what we love, and quite literally keeping us alive. Thank you, and I hope you stick with us. We have such sights to show you.