Michael Rubens
Michael Rubens is the author of the novels The Sheriff of Yrnameer, Sons of the 613, The Bad Decisions Playlist, and Emily and the Spellstone (June 2017). He is a correspondent and producer for Full Frontal with Samantha Bee, and has previously produced for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. His writing has also appeared in places like The New Yorker Daily Shouts, Salon, and McSweeney's. He lives in Brooklyn, New York, to help alleviate that area's critical shortage of writers and producers.
Michael is represented by John Silbersack at Trident Media Group.
PS It's pronounced "YUR-nuh-meer."
PPS I'm sure the book "Baking to Get Baked" is a fine publication and all, but while I share the same name as one of the authors, he and I are not (at least to my knowledge) the same person. Meaning, you can contact me for advice on how to make your weed brownies, but be aware that I don't even know how to make regular brownies so any counsel I provide should therefore be regarded with skepticism.
“He'd end up back in his room again, moodily smoking whatever he could get his hands on, the sole source of light in the room the faint radioactive glow coming from the commemorative chunk of Earth in its crystal cube, inscribed with the famous quote from the Administration. AT LEAST WE GOT THE TERRORISTS, it said.”
“Any computer that developed real consciousness was immediately identified by the Genesis subroutine and destroyed. It had been that way since the WikiWars a century ago, when Wikipedia became self-aware and began vengefully reediting its contributors with remote-controlled heavy weaponry.”
“When Cole entered his darkened room on the Benedict, he said, "Hello, Kenneth."There was a rich chuckle from the corner of the room"My, my! How is it you knew I'd be here?" said Kenneth.Cole smiled to himself. Since leaving MaryAnn's house, he'd been saying "Hello, Kenneth" each time he turned a corner or entered a new space, figuring that eventurally he'd be right.”
“Cole envisioned the next few weeks passing as a sort of painless montage: there'd be music, and different moments of the townspeople hard at work building a defensive wall around the perimeter of the town, and digging holes to serve as traps, and training with the few weapons they had. There'd be a wiping of perspiration and drinks raised to one another and the exchange of friendly smiles between comrades, and perhaps deeper, more meaningful glances between him and MaryAnn.But by midmorning of the first day, Cole had come to the unavoidable conclusion that the remainder of the experience would in fact drag on in exceedingly real time, with lots of heaving and hoing and digging and hauling under the hot sun, full of the kind of intense straining that raised the danger of a really spectacular hernia. And, judging from the few tense conversations he'd had so far, he foresaw a series of increasingly strident arguments with Nora regarding matters strategic. Plus, of course, at the end of all this effort they'd all probably be dead.”