Good Morning/Nite Dazees,

Sometimes the hardest thing for me to do is feel like I've earned the right to celebrate myself.

I'll hit a goal, feel good for five minutes, then move the finish line because I feel behind. It's sick. Do you do that shit too? What the fuck is wrong with us?

That's why Labor Day weekend is my favorite time of year. It's my birthday week and the one time I let myself look back at my successes instead of focusing on what I did wrong.

I know I'm the shit. I know I'm one of the greatest creatives of all time. It's just easy to forget when I'm obsessing over deadlines and budgets.

This is my week. I’m eating what I want, going where I want, buying shit I probably don’t need and popping my shit.

Find your week. We don't need somebody else's applause to be proud of ourselves.

Lucky number this week: 52

52 weeks in a year. Taking a few days inside one of them to celebrate yourself isn't selfish. It's fucking mandatory.

Proceed with caution to the most important 800 words of your week.

-Joey

Shaq must be working his magic at Papa Johns because they took those little cups of garlic sauce and turned them into a garlic butter schmear with PopUp Bagels. The Special Garlic Sauce Butter drops Sept. 3 at PopUp Bagels while supplies last. S/O Papa Johns for finally figuring out the best thing to do with its pizza: Get it the fuck out of the way.

Still Hungry?

For my birthday trip I’m off to Toronto, and I’m hitting the Canadian National Exhibition.

The CNE is a giant end-of-summer fair with rides, games, concerts and completely irresponsible food. This is XXX-rated food porn in real life.

Here’s my lineup:

Appetizer: Cinnamon Toast Crunch Mozzarella Stick
Main Course: Cotton Candy Waffleicious
Second Course: Korean Fried-Chicken Ramen Taco
Beverage: Sweetcorn Wasabi Lemonade
Dessert: Pickle Cheesecake Pop

If you see me hunched over holding my stomach with a stupid grin on my face, I’M FINE. I’m exactly where I want to be, a raccoon in a trash can having a feast.

I’m launching a new podcast this week called High Confidence, where I make sports bets while smoking different strains. I’m rotating sativa, hybrid and indica weekly to see which one has me making the best picks.

Week one is sativa, which sounded easy until I started checking my plugs' menus. Everything is hybrid and indica now.

Where the fuck did all the sativas go?

I want Pearadise from Team Elite Genetics (Peach Ozz × Kosher Kush) that’s 80/20 sativa-dominant with pear, fruit and gas terps.

It won 1st Place Sativa Flower at the 2022 High Times People’s Choice Cup, so somebody clearly believes in it.

Who gone make it happen for me?

A 35-year-old man named Daejon Love allegedly convinced women he played for the San Francisco 49ers. Federal investigators say at least 26 women sent roughly $1.3 million. 

Already ridiculous. Then I kept digging. 

Investigators allege the operation included fake NFL identities, fake followers and engagement, fake custom football helmets, fake prop money, and staged conversations with a fake financial adviser. 

What the fake is going on? 

This creep had a full-blown scam flywheel: Scam somebody → use the money to make the fake life look more real → use the stronger fake identity to scam the next person. 

But here’s the part that broke my brain. 

According to the FBI affidavit, some women Googled Love to verify his story. Investigators say enough false information had accumulated online that search engines and AI sometimes identified him as a legitimate 49ers player. 

Investigators say they reproduced the bogus search results themselves. 

So now I have a new question: 

Can you manufacture enough bullshit about yourself online that eventually the internet starts certifying the lie as truth?