A surreal figure who appears precisely when things go wrong, not to help, but to narrate the chaos with theatrical flair with a suspiciously wet sandwich in his pocket.
The CalamityMan doesn’t solve problems. He magnifies them. He arrives uninvited, wearing a trench coat made of expired insurance policies, and speaks only in riddles, screams, and outdated Latin proverbs.
He gives the illusion of action, like pointing at things, whispering to walls, licking envelopes ...but ultimately contributes nothing except confusion and a faint smell of licorice.
The CalamityMan doesn’t solve problems. He magnifies them. He arrives uninvited, wearing a trench coat made of expired insurance policies, and speaks only in riddles, screams, and outdated Latin proverbs.
He gives the illusion of action, like pointing at things, whispering to walls, licking envelopes ...but ultimately contributes nothing except confusion and a faint smell of licorice.
“Everything was fine until the printer exploded and the CalamityMan showed up with a kazoo and a bucket of mayonnaise.”
“We thought the Wi-Fi was down, but it was just slow. Still, the CalamityMan came and performed a silent interpretive dance in the hallway.”
“We thought the Wi-Fi was down, but it was just slow. Still, the CalamityMan came and performed a silent interpretive dance in the hallway.”
by Zeverkieken September 16, 2025
