None of this has much to do with anything, except that if you were to recast this episode with me in the role of Stimpy, and the editor of a Portland-based magazine in the role of Ren, and a 4,000 word article in the role of the hairball factory... well, that would be a pretty good snapshot of my life for the past few weeks. (With the possible exception of the editor, who is actually a lovely man and not an egomaniacal chihuahua. At least as far as I know.)
I don't have a writing gland, of course. But if I did? I'm pretty sure it would look the way a lemon does after you've squeezed its contents out and then accidentally left it on your countertop for three weeks.
The good news is that Stimpy is back to spewing hairballs in later episodes -- as though the entire ordeal had never even happened -- and I'm sure I'll be back to normal within a couple days. But in the meantime, the content of pink india ink is probably going to be a bit photo-heavy and have that sort of half-assed, phoned-in feeling.
Starting... right now.