Below my lawn’s yellowing surface grass—unbeknownst to me—certain death was waiting.
Tag: email
How a reader’s comment inspired me to exploit my friends.
When writing this newsletter, my objective has always been to provide readers with an unsolicited and half-assed alternative to news-focused newsletters focused on the news.
The CrosbyReport™ quantum conundrum.
Who gets my email newsletter and who doesn’t? Only the subatomic realm knows for sure.
Sadly, the anole lizard situation at my home does not end well.
In one of my previous email newsletters, I wrote about how I spent most of my waking hours staring out my backyard window at “Craig,”
Corona-crisis: An unsolicited message from our CEO.
In these troubled times, the world turns to its CEOs for leadership, guidance, and platitudes.
Oh, hello there.
Want to email me? This is where you do it.
Greetings from Hell: My long overdue return to Florida.
Twenty three years after I left Florida for my career, it was time to return to my adopted hometown.
Get my idiocy in your inbox.™
Looking for thoughtful, articulate travel writing? Yeah, this isn’t that. It’s more like the sort of muddled, barely intelligible typing you’d expect from a bunch of monkeys hopped up on an eight-ball of cocaine.
In the CrosbyReport, you’ll read about:
TRAVEL!
My wife drags me to places.
LIZARDS!
They’re cuter than cockroaches.
And MORE!
My website is all over the board.
Testimonies from actual CrosbyReport readers.
- “LMAO!” —Michelle
- “Thanks for the laughs.” —Anonymous
- “Brilliant, my friend. Brilliant!” —Wayne
- “This is the content I needed today.” —Prescott
- “There’s a typo in paragraph two.” —Daniel
Your amusement is guaranteed.*
If you don’t find my email newsletter at least mildly entertaining, let me know on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram, and I’ll sulk around for days, maybe longer—that’s my solemn promise to you.
*Guarantee not valid anywhere capable of supporting human life or lawyers.
It’s free because who would pay for this nonsense?
Subscribe to the CrosbyReport now before you think about it too much.
Load More