Todd in the Shadows

@shadowtodd.bsky.social

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Be-shadowed music reviewer on YouTube, cohost of Song vs. Song Patreon: http://patreon.com/toddintheshadows Media/inquiries: toddintheshadows@standard.tv

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Joined Bluesky

June 2023

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Todd in the Shadows·Aug 5

this work saved millions of lives in 2021, won the Nobel Prize in 2023, and is cancelled in 2025

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Todd in the Shadows·Aug 9

We've become so accustomed to lawbreaking that this probably won't ripple much, but it is important not to forget that firing the IRS Commissioner for refusing to break the law--if that's in fact what happened here--would and should prompt immediate articles of impeachment in any other presidency.

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Todd in the Shadows·Jul 28

In my experience there are three kinds of fantasy magic novels:

"There are three kinds of magic," said Wizzler, handing us each a balloon. "You can control tigers, you can shoot tornadoes from your fingers, or you can fly by holding your breath. The color of confetti inside your balloon will reveal which kind of power you have."
I felt the panic rising in me. What if my confetti turned yellow, indicating that I was a Tiger-Talker? My family, a long line of proud Tornado-Fingers, would disown me. Could I ever return home, bearing such shame?
I tried to calm myself as I readied the ceremonial safety pin. Green, I thought, willing my hopes into reality. Please be green.
I popped the balloon, involuntarily shutting my eyes. When I opened them, would I see the green I hoped for? The yellow I feared? What if, gods forbid, the confetti were blue?
I opened my eyes, seeing shock on the faces of my classmates. Wizzler himself stared at me, wide-eye. Looking down, I saw myself covered in confetti... purple confetti.

“I don’t understand,” I growled, my body trembling with pain. “I combined eighty percent Earth-elemental mana with twenty percent Fire-elemental mana (Type B), focused through a twenty-four-sided icositetragon made of yellow topaz. This, in conjunction with my blood type, star sign, sense of humor, and nickname, should have produced a blazing column of lightning to vaporize my enemies. Instead, it made a big bubble that smells like fresh laundry. Why?”
Skullgrumbler began to laugh. “You fool! You don’t even realize…” he squealed. “You’re facing east!”

“It’s whatever you want,” explained Magemaster Grampledog. “Magic is just whatever you want.”
I knew he was speaking in riddles, but I couldn’t grasp his hidden meaning. “So the rules are…”
Grampledog lit a sliver of smokereed. “No rules. You say some words and you wave a stick and whatever you want just happens. You don’t even need the stick.”
His wisdom still eluded me. I stared into his face, trying to decipher what he was really saying.
“No, listen.” Grampledog snapped his fingers and his desk turned into a pile of chicken nuggets. “I didn’t even know that would happen.” His hat then came alive and began to yodel.
“It’s pandemonium,” he explained. “It’s complete nonsense.”

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