Ben Howard
Bio
Condensed form that is two parts bitter, angry old man wringing his fist at a world that refuses to change, the other being a river otter haphazardly whittling away at a keyboard. In less obnoxious terms, I write things sometimes.
He/him.
Stories (4)
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My Proposal to Stop This Pandemic
Doom scrolling about the ongoing pandemic is, and you all can say it with me, the worst. It seems like no matter how many times you hit the refresh page on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or whatever soul-sucking app that we've voluntarily sold our information to, there's no shortage of friends, colleagues, depraved uncles and aunts that are all sucked into a vast web of conspiracy theories about COVID-19, false notions of race wars, and, Heaven forfend! Socialists! In America?! I must refer to all instances of state regulation of the pandemic as Orwell's 1984, or else how will the world know of the impending doom that is known as the Social Justice Warrior Socialist Communist BLM Plague!?!
By Ben Howard5 years ago in The Swamp
The One and Only Reflection on 2020 You Need
Have you ever walked into a party with a group of friends, and that group of friends just won't stop talking about something that had happened at the same party that's held every year, and they haven't stopped talking about this insane, radical thing that happened, well, a year ago?
By Ben Howard5 years ago in Humans
A Rich Man's Confession
Dear Random Person I Shall Most Likely Never Meet but Nonetheless Have Eternally Affected, You're probably wondering what the hell this little black journal is all about, and, more importantly, where the hell this $20,000 came from, and, more mysteriously, how you, of all people, came across it. And those are questions I shall answer in due time, but I want to ask you to consider something before you read on further:
By Ben Howard5 years ago in Journal
Tangible Symbols
I always thought it was a cruel joke that everyone, at some point in human history, looked at everything as symbolic. I closed the door to my four door sedan and began the slow ascent up the gravel driveway to the "Family Cabin" that was flanked on all sides by towering, spindly pines that gazed down at me as I entered the sacred hall of "solitude" (hint: the cabin was only five miles outside of town, hence the quotes around solitude). This was the same family cabin that had been passed down through my grandparents onto my mom and then, eventually, whenever I figure out the hell I'm doing with my life, it would be passed down unto me. Which is terrifying because, well, what do you do when you have a giant old, creaky, downright haunted piece of real estate that you only use to sit behind a laptop and keyboard? Look at the trees, see some faces in there and divine some weird-ass story about finding yourself in nature?
By Ben Howard5 years ago in Futurism
