Yeah, yeah… I hear you— “Hardly any of the shit on this fucking website is even about Pie, what the fuck!?”

I’m working on it.

But also, the Pie is the hook. The Pie is how I suck you in, everyone loves Pie.  Because right now, Pie Quarterly is just a collection of stories and ideas stirred up with cool images, kickass sounds, a couple moving pictures, and a lot winging it. Or to put it another way, it’s a bunch of my old stuff built into a place for me to put new stuff, all disguised as a fake magazine about pie (that fake-comes-out four times a year—quarterly, get it? You can also cut a pie into quarters, so it’s a double entendre… that’s French for “two entendres”). There are big plans for the future but for now, here are the key ingredients:

Filling, Not Filler

Don’t call it “content.” That’s a catch-all, bullshit word marketing departments use to describe anything that isn’t their advertisements. Content is filler, and in a good pie you want filling. Something that makes you feel full, satisfied, not empty. You want art.

Art is someone’s time, effort, and creative spirit. It’s ideas and passion and love painstakingly molded into something to share. It can be shitty, and some of the stuff on this site probably is, but everything here exists because I think it’s valuable in its own right, not because it takes up the space in between manipulative trickery designed to fool you into buying shit you don’t need with money you probably don’t have anyhow… all to chase fake happiness built on owning stuff because you’re ‘supposed’ to. You don’t need that shit, you’re good enough without it. You’re art, not content.
(Yes, I know Pie Quarterly has some Ads. Those are my friends though, check them out.)


“…we sometimes like getting fucked up and doing fucked up shit. And not everyone is into that…”

The Crust

Here at Pie Quarterly we sometimes like getting fucked up and doing fucked up shit. And not everyone is into that…which is totally OK. “Isn’t it nice that we’re all so different,” is how my grandmother used to put it. And if anything in these pages isn’t to your taste, that is also totally OK, and I hope you are able to find what you like somewhere else.

But I don’t want to hear about it. Because I don’t have the energy to deal with anyone who has their intestines in tangle over something they see here. I won’t engage in anyone’s crusade to convince me why I am categorically wrong, and they are 100% right. Because I don’t care—opinions are like assholes, everyone’s got one, and most of them stink.

Especially opinions delivered whilst cowering under the anonymity and/or distance of stupid fucking Internet comments sections and social media. No string of public comments has ever had me walking away impressed with or inspired by the human race; quite the opposite actually.

As such, Pie Quartlery doesn’t fuck with either of them—no social media, no comments. If you absolutely need to reach us try emailing pie@piequarterly.com  But if it’s just to bitch and moan about how our shit doesn’t line up with your views, don’t even bother. Maybe go outside instead, take a fucking breath or two, and ask yourself why you care so much about someone else’s shit? The world is crazy place, but you will be ok. Now fuck off.

Other than that, welcome to Pie Quarterly. I hope your experience here is a real slice…

Feet Banks

Feet Banks is a writer and (shitty) filmmaker from the west coast of Canada who appreciates large open spaces, shit-talking around a campfire, horror movies, books, naps, people who try new things, and pumpkin pie. He has been chipping away at the underlying truths, greater goods, and seedy underbellies of life since the late 1990s and is still not entirely convinced Western Civilization isn’t on the verge of collapse—if it can happen to the Inca, it can happen to us… Act accordingly.