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Never News: We're Back Baby!!!

[It's a cold, gray day, though not chilly enough to deter you from an afternoon walk across the grounds of this gothic estate. You've crossed through the woods, the vegetable patch, and finally the gardens, where you were flanked by the pupil-less, silent gaze of a

Never News: Seasons Spookings

On a snow-fallen night, in a house on a hill We see our narrator, stood on the sill Across the eaves of the windows, she's hung garlands high Though beautiful, they're...strange, though it's hard to say why At first they look lovely, panes

🆕 Never Post! Looks Great!

Friends! A new episode, cooked up just for you. Mike talks with Jon Greenaway, aka litcritguy, about the horror of online food videos; Georgia talks with Katie Notopoulos about why you can’t personalize your social profiles a la MySpace anymore; ALSO leaf crunches!  Listen on the website, wherever you

Never News: The cooldown tent

[A forest of evergreens. It's a sunny day, unusual for this time of year in the Pacific Northwest, and through the trees sunlight leaves a shimmering, dappled effect on your path. Around you are the sounds of life — percussive birdsong, the rustle of squirrels darting across branches. And

Never News: A Halloween Haunting

[The exterior of a large Victorian mansion sat against an ink black sky. As you walk up the gravel path, you're flanked by dozens of lit Jack-o-lanterns, their faces ghoulish and grinning as they watch you pass. Approaching the house, you see standing next to the great wooden

Never News: it's 11:11 somewhere

[Today, shockingly, we find our narrator not crawling out of a grave or summoning the dark energies beyond the veil, but in the grand entryway of her home. There she is, teetering at the top of a step ladder, dusting the curled arms of the large, elegant chandelier that hangs

Never News: Pumpkin Spice Newsletter

[You find yourself walking down a dirt path through the black, dense woods. Somewhere behind you, you can hear a bell tower tolling twelve, lonely tones - midnight. Why did you come here, anyway? It's hard to remember. But just now - what was that? A shape flitting

Never News: What hath the Eyes of Mr. Peanut seen?

[Imagine me clanging a very loud and unpleasant-sounding bell] HEAR YE HEAR YE! This is a reminder to you all that it is outrageously easy to become a member of our paid subscriber list, where you shall reap in the delights of extended segments! No ads on our episodes! An

Never News: Get out of my room!!

[Lit only by the ghostly haze of the moon, you see the mist-covered silhouette of a centuries-old graveyard. Passing through the wrought iron gate, you can clearly hear the wet chrk and slap of a shovel plunging into the earth. Someone is digging. And sure enough, at the base of

NeverNews: Dispatch from XOXO Fest

As you're reading this, Mike, Hans, Jason, and I (Georgia) are in Portland preparing for our liveshow at XOXO Fest on Friday! So hooray to the lucky ducks who are able to attend this historic and sure-to-be life-altering event — we'll be performing at Revolution Hall on

Never News: It's Charli, baby

No dramatic intro today because…I can’t believe I’m saying this…but there’s more Charli XCX news. Like….like there’s so much……When I tell you it took quite a lot of restraint from me to not make this week’s newsletter *only* about Charli news…

Never News: Totally Mid Hot Jesus

[Our narrator stands before a table in the library, dressed in safety goggles, a rubber apron, and rubber gloves. She holds two vials of strange liquid in each hand. On the left, a pitch black, foaming potion that bubbles and squelches. On the right, a lime green, dare I say

Never News: Skibidi Brainrot

[We find our narrator standing by the book shelf, reading intently from a large, thick book titled “Rich Husbands: How To Find Them, Woo Them, and Get Rid Of Them Discreetly.” Noticing you enter, she glances up and hurriedly slams the book shut, though not before making sure that her

Never News: A Newsletter Of and For the Internet

[Lights up on a glamorous, moody library. Old, leather-bound books crowd the shelves. Somewhere in the corner, a gramophone plays an unidentifiable jazz tune. Outside it’s raining, but in this room all is warm, lamp-lit, and smelling of woodsmoke. A stag, a five-pointer, is mounted proudly over the mantle,

Supplemental Segment: Trickshot Content