So gang. You know that I palpably and defiantly don’t give a shit about money.

I think of $100 bills as a) a portrait of a scientist, which is at least something and b) as decent material to pull a crutch off of to roll a spliff.

That’s when I have a few in my pocket and I’m feeling randy. When I’m down to, well, bupkis, I tend to think of them as more readily convertible into my drug habit.

Predictably, my phone is gone, my phone bill, unpaid, and my bank account is in the red.

Well guess what! You can totally fix that, by sending non-tax-deductible contributions to my PayPal address, sam@makerbeam.com. I need a couple grand stat, so I can get to the West Coast and start losing this thing for reals.

It’s not urgent, my Dad’s dipping into his retirement fund to buy me cigarettes and covering my abroad coffee and wifi habits. I can’t leave until next Friday, ish, anyway; family matters, mostly birthdays.

All I can promise you in return is that you’ll have my favor and friendship. If that’s not good enough for you, perhaps you don’t know about my uncanny ability to be loyal to my allies and follow through on the spirit of our agreements while totally ignoring the letters. Confound the spacemarks anyway, I’m busy. If you don’t get that, you have my pity, and condolences. Losers.

Hit me up. Also available for certain kinds of high-class consultancy, but look gang, the Primary season is almost nigh.

I’m huntin houses, and bringing them home. Help out. Please. With the sugar and the cherry. I’m quite harmless, when fed.