Graeme Carey profile page

Graeme Carey

Graeme Carey is a writer from Hamilton, Ontario. His work has appeared in The New Yorker, McSweeney’s, Slackjaw, and here.

Comedy Writing

Focus, Bob. Just you and the ball. Crap. Fore!

What are thoughts? A better question might be, What isn’t a thought? A basketball, for example?

You might think it’s strange how much time I spend on my own. You might even call it “sad” or “a little concerning.”

How many grams of protein do you consume each day? What do you mean you don’t know? Don’t you count your macros, bro?

I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in charge of spreading a bit of autumnal spirit throughout the organization?

“Oh, I do a little of this, a little of that. Can I be more specific? Yes, but for the sake of my dignity, I’d rather not.”

Clapping is the least we can do to show our appreciation that we didn’t end up pancaked against the side of a mountain.

Let’s see. What else can we dredge up from the darkest recesses of your mind to totally fuck up your night?

Sleep hacks to help you wake up feeling rested, refreshed, and less dreadful about the eternal damnation of your soul.

Do anteaters regret doing whatever the hell it is they do all day? I wanna say eat ants, but I'm not positive.

Say, what do you reckon they were thinking when they built such an itty-bitty town in the first place?

At first, I thought something had happened to you, like that you’d fallen off the peak of a mountain in search of the most serene place to meditate.