My next apartment may depend on how well you take a joke.
I found a proposed community where residents can earn credits toward their living expenses by performing stand-up comedy.
Finally, an audience that can actually make me homeless.
They don’t say the credits depend on getting laughs. My brain immediately supplied that improvement.
I already take it personally when somebody doesn’t think I’m funny. I don’t need to discover that their silence also cost me part of September’s rent.
“Tough crowd tonight.”
“Yes. You’ll need a roommate.”
There are also shared Teslas, robotic bartenders, and personality-compatible neighbors. I have questions.
