ISSUE 56

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 In a market that is screaming for low-income housing options, invest in the only house built for a dog: Even Tinier House. No really. We designed it for our pup Boomer, a half-blind mastiff who likes to drool on your shoes and jam his head in your crotch.   
 He and an ugly spider that can take down a full-grown mouse will be your roommates until you can pay off the $230,000 mortgage. Boomer isn’t a bad roomy—he just has this thing about loud noises, facial hair, and his favorite toy. A word of advice: Don’t ever, ever try to take that squeaky SpongeBob SquarePants, especially if you have a mustache. Let’s just say that hipster won’t be back any time soon.
 Our business strategy is terrible, but hopefully it won’t matter. Mostly, it involves a lot of faith in the coolness of Colorado because hey, it’s COLORADO, man. With enough liberals on the Front Range to form a socialist republic and a few mysterious conservatives in forgotten towns like Brush, Deer Trail, Rifle, and Tree Shaped Like a Butt, it’s perfect for shouting political solutions from a canyon and listening to the same thing come back to you 4.8 million times.
 All we can see is a market that goes up, up, up—like a plane about to stall. And even though we’re assured to make money, we can’t help but skip a few construction things like quality wood, a solid foundation, and checking to see if there’s a massive natural gas pipeline under your house. Affordability means that if you want your house to stay up in the wind, you wouldn’t be poor.
 An Even Tinier House also makes a good investment for any of you burgeoning property owners out there. They are recyclable, floatable, stackable, moveable, edible, and tradable for a 1990 or older Honda Accord. With their portability, they can be placed and rented wherever you have space—your backyard, a Whole Foods parking lot, medians, or the old nuclear weapons plant by Highway 93. And due to the election of city council candidates with the most interesting name, the homes can be stacked fifteen high, which allows you to grow your rental business exponentially.
 Part of the excitement is we’re not sure how people get into the top units yet, but we provide twine, two rolls of off-brand duct tape, three pool noodles, six cans of ravioli, a flashlight without batteries, and one copy of The Audacity of Hope. With all of the DIY going on, home owners will figure out something.
 And if you have back pain by the end of two years, you can demand your money back. We won’t give it to you because our company is one failed payment away from bankruptcy, but it’s nice to say anyways. This is in the fine print, which is hidden so deviously we don’t even know where it is.
 As with any entrepreneurial idea, there’s criticism. Okay, fine, whatever. Maybe most people can’t fit in it. Maybe there’s no insulation. And yeah, maybe “appliances included” means one of those Fisher Playhouse kitchens that makes Playdoh spaghetti. Hey, we’re simply encouraging people to experiment with their diet and lose weight—a lot of weight and some height too. And if you think about it, half of your body is inside, so you can’t not fit in it either. This is better than all of your body being somewhere with too much racial diversity. 
 Just ask Asher—a Millennial who recently discovered the joys of veganism, Atheism, and holding a sign at protests—how much she likes her Even Tinier House. Or text her because she recently stopped replying to face-to-face communication.
 “Oh it’s super chill,” pre-text-only Asher said to her other friend with a unique name. “It’s not huge, but it fits my needs, and the impact on the Earth is so minimal and probiotic. Plus, if I can’t feel my feet, I know it’s cold enough to wear a jacket. And when I want to move, all I have to do is put it in the back of my Subaru. It’s like a house but even smaller, you know?”
 We do know Asher. We do know.
 So, stop dithering around like an uncool person who worries about things like property value, indoor plumbing, interest rates, and the water resistance of cardboard. Instead, buy an Even Tinier House.

          
There is a book now. It's eleven bucks.
If you buy books according to their cover,
the cover itself is pretty cool.
If anything, it makes an ideal coaster for your coffee.
   
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