- Beef + flame = BBQ.
- Beef + flame + lots of beer = 2nd degree burns and a clip for “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
- A grill is the second best way to cook asparagus. But a blast furnace is the best way because it completely incinerates those terrible little stalks.
- Don’t wear a “Kiss the cook” apron while you BBQ unless you want a drunken friend or neighbor to try to.
- If a cup of hot coffee has to carry a warning label, why doesn’t a grill? And since it doesn’t, how long before somebody files a class action lawsuit claiming they were burned because they didn’t realize grills get so hot?
- Not everything can be grilled — like pasta, for example. And although this may seem obvious, to 4-year-olds and drunken neighbors it’s not.
- If a dog is man’s best friend, a grill runs a close second.
- There is a difference between well-done and burnt, but only to people who like their steaks well-done. To everyone else — especially lovers of blood and pink — they are both the same: a waste of a perfectly good cut of meat.
- If you’re cooking with gas, it’s important to the light the grill immediately after turning on the gas instead of running inside to get another drink first.
- It’s also important not to use lighter fluid.
- Anyone who says “everything tastes better when it’s grilled” clearly hasn’t eaten at my neighbors.
- Men like to BBQ for the same reason they like to see stuff blow up.
- There should be a mathematical formula for calculating the increase in LDL given a steak’s price per pound so that anyone with high cholesterol can ignore their doctor’s advice in an informed manner.
- George Stephen, creator of the Weber Grill, should be sainted.
- If there is ever another Civil War, it will most likely have something to do with Texas, Alabama and Missouri claiming to have the best BBQ in the America, and all the other states either taking sides or taking offense, except for Wisconsin, which will remain neutral because they have fish boils instead of BBQ.
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One of the most popular feeds on twitter is “$#*! My Dad Says,” which is a collection of the irreverent, biting, very-funny comments 29-year-old Justin’s 74-year-old dad makes. It has close to 1.4 million followers and is being turned into a sitcom by CBS starring William Shatner. Maybe. A national family-advocacy group called the Parents Television Council is threatening an “unrelenting campaign” against the show’s advertisers and CBS’s affiliates if the show airs because they don’t like the idea of a show named “$#*! My Dad Says” being on at 8:30 pm. (They probably don’t like the idea of the show being on at all, as well — these are the same gate-keepers of morality who don’t recommend the new Shrek movie for kids under seven because it includes “toilet humor, with Shrek’s children belching, farting, pooping their pants and urinating on Shrek,” which, as even the most conservative parents know, is exactly what kids under age seven think is funny1.) It’s not like CBS is actually going to use the s-word in the title, of course; instead, they plan to substitute the all-purpose curse-word stand-in “$#*!” Which means the problem is… what exactly? Because CBS broadcasts its programing over the public airwaves, the FCC insists (more or less, depending on who’s in charge) that it and other broadcasters adhere to a higher standard of decency than, say, every other media outlet in the known universe, because there’s a reasonable (though infinitely small) chance some unsuspecting innocent will accidentally turn on the TV and be offended: CHILD: I just saw something on TV I don’t understand. There’s nothing wrong with parents protecting their kids from what they feel are bad influences, but isn’t it kind of silly to make such a big deal out of something like this? If for no other reason than the fact that there probably isn’t a kid left in this country who doesn’t already know the s-word, the a-word and probably the f-word, too. (FULL DISCLOSURE: I know my kids know them because (a) they are sometimes in the car with me when I drive and (b) I think it’s important they have a full and complete grasp of the English language, including words that are inappropriate, which is why I sat them down one night and taught them.2) Besides, when you think about it, television doesn’t need to be censored because televisions come with a remote control and a power button. Click. Click. Click. Isn’t that easier than a national boycott? (That said, remotes can be so confusing and complicated it is possible somebody somewhere can’t turn their TV off, change the channel, lower the volume or remove the annoying on-screen overlay because they haven’t managed to crack the secret combination of input/source buttons even this most basic level of functionality can sometimes require. But that’s the fault of the manufacturer, not the media.) Rather than being bad, in fact, a situation like “$#*! My Dad Says” is actually good because it’s a potential springboard for a family discussion about the the way personal beliefs shape behavior, and how these truths help us decide appropriate from inappropriate, right from wrong and good from bad. (Though, admittedly, given the time and effort that kind of thing would involve, a national boycott would probably be easier and less time-consuming.) So what do concerned parents do about “$#*! My Dad Says”? Just explain in clear and graphic terms exactly “$#*!” is: punctuation — because if the fear is that exposed kids will suddenly start slinging obscenities willy nilly, nothing will kill that impulse more quickly than a long, drawn-out lesson in grammar: PARENT: Have you ever wondered why they use “$,: “#,” “*,” “@” and “!” to denote obscenities instead of, say, a semi-colon? And as for the show itself, the only reason to ban, condemn or make it the focus on an “unrelenting campaign” is if it isn’t funny.3 Stay tuned. __________________________________________ 1 If anyone should be offended by this it’s parents, because they know from first-hand experience there’s nothing funny about pee, poop or puke, especially when it’s just been splattered all over you. 2 Given the current political climate, I’d venture that liberal households aren’t the only ones where kids are getting an education in vulgarities, either: CHILD: Where are you going? 3 If anything should be banned, condemned, or made the focus of an “unrelenting campaign,” it should be ads for erectile dysfunction that air during shows kids probably shouldn’t be watching with their parents but do, because trying to explain that is really, really uncomfortable. “So… what’s it like having kids?” the would-be parent asks. “It’s great,” you say, “Having kids is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. They’re a lot of work, but when you see the way they smile and laugh and take in the world, it’s definitely worth it.” And then maybe you chuckle and offer to let them stay over and take your kids for a weekend “test drive,” knowing they probably won’t but hoping they will so you and your spouse can get away for that “romantic weekend” you’ve been talking about since pretty much your kids were born (with the term “romantic” being parent-code for “getting some sleep and being able to watch pay-per-view movies all the way through, in one sitting, without being interrupted a dozen times because ‘I’m hungry’ or ‘I had an accident’ or ‘I spilled jam on the carpet,’ etc.”). You may suggest these would-be parents pick up a movie or two, too. But while many recommend something like “Parenthood”1 for its funny and touching insights into the ups and downs of, well, parenthood, there’s another movie that gives a fuller and more complete picture: 1970s horror classic “The Exorcist.” Here’s why: Demonic possession is just another name for a weekday morning. As every parent knows, at random and unpredictable intervals, your little angel will wake up snarling and nasty like a beast from Hell. Foul-mouthed? Before you even get through the door to say “Good morning, I made you breakfast,” you find yourself assaulted with “GET OUT! Can’t you see I’m sleeping? You always wake me up like this. I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU.” And their appearance? Definitely something unholy (though, to be fair, not because they’re suddenly sporting horns, scales and some grotesque demon pig-nose, but because nobody looks good when they don’t shower for three days – why is personal hygiene such a difficult concept for kids to get, anyway?). As for being able to crawl across the ceiling? Well… maybe not the ceiling, but when you consider the gravity-defying ways kids flip around in their beds while they sleep, it’s not such a stretch to think they might some- how end up on the ceiling. Green puke? How about orange puke, yellow puke and blue puke, too? It’s not called “The Technicolor Yawn” for nothing, something parents usually find out fast. Often, these multi-colored hues can be traced back to two types of foods: foods consumed in excess, like artificially-flavored fruit punch, Halloween candy and birthday cake; and foods consumed under protest such as salad, non-breaded fish, and brussels sprouts (with the eventual volume of puke increasing exponentially if you happen to say something like “I don’t care if you don’t like it. Nobody ever threw up eating brussels sprouts, so finish your plate!” first). You know a child’s head can’t spin completely around… but a 5-year-old doesn’t. And no matter how quickly the parent dashes into the other room to get the phone or answer the door or shut the oven off before dinner burns, it’s five seconds more than the 5-year-old needs to twist the 2-year-old’s head around to the point where it’s about to snap. “But we were just playing owl,” the child protests. You don’t need an exorcist, but a child psychologist might be a good idea. What parent hasn’t thrown up their hands at some point and said “I can’t do this anymore!” before turning to an expert for help? Whether it’s the therapist, the math tutor, the reading coach, the college placement counselor or even the pitching specialist, all these experts are trying to do is exactly what Father Merrin was trying to do to Linda Blair’s Regan: make the kid “normal” again. There can always be a sequel because evil – like parenting – goes on forever. Which means the moment parents think they’re done and their kids are on their own, they move back home. Or go into therapy. Or just stop calling. This can happen at any time, for any reason (though it’s often financial), and it’s generally a lot worse than the original, just like “Exorcist 2 – The Heretic,” “The Exorcist 3,” and both versions of “Exorcist – The Beginning.” And if that isn’t scary, nothing is. From “Why Chicken Nuggets are Better Than Prozac.” 1Is the TV version of this movie a reasonable substitute? Clearly the show has plenty of fans – here, here, here and here, for example – but what if it gets cancelled? Imagine devoting hour after hour to something, getting attached and becoming emotionally invested in its well-being, only to have it suddenly just grow up and move go away? On second thought… maybe that’s even more like parenthood than the movie “Parenthood.” For a lot of parents, Earth Day is a time to feel guilt and shame for driving an SUV and having too many flat-screen TVs. For kids, it’s a time to learn that the psychological problems they’ll have later in life because of the way mom and treat them are nothing compared to the environmental problems they’ll have later in life because of the way mom and dad treat the planet. (Assuming, of course, life is still around later.) KID: Thanks for ruining the earth. The good news is that thanks to most Americans grudging acceptance of climate change, a renewed government-focus on conserving natural resources and developing alternate energy sources, and the fact that it’s cool to drive a Prius, there’s hope for the future. The bad news is that kids are still kids, which means they can turn just about anything to their advantage, especially environmental tips they come home and claim to have been taught in school: PARENT: How was school today? Happy Earth Day.
HOUSEGUEST: Mind if I bring my dog? When it comes to pets, there seem to be two kinds of people: those who believe being housebroken is an either/or proposition — either a dog goes outside when he needs to do his business, or he’s not housebroken — and those who favor a more Zen-like interpretation, where “housebroken” is more journey than destination, a path to potty enlightenment that every dog must travel at its own speed, peeing and pooping along the way as the need arises. As you would expect, the latter position is most often adopted by those who think of their dogs as their children, and they are usually as unapologetic when their “baby” has “an accident” as a real parent is when the same thing happens to their child. The problem is that when a child poops or pees, it’s in his pants; when a dog poops or pees, it’s on the bedspread in the bedroom. HOUSEGUEST: Sorry. How do you react to this kind of situation? There seem to be two kinds of people in this case, too: those who understand that “shit happens,” and when it does the only thing you can do is grab some paper towels and clean it up, and those who want to know who’s gonna pay for the new mattress. (And, unfortunately, you won’t know which camp you fall into until it happens to you.) How can a two hour and 20 minute flight take five hours? Electronic check in:
Manual check-in after electronic check-in can’t find everyone’s name:
Airport security:
Pat down, additional questioning after dad was randomly flagged as a potential terrorist (which the kids thought was funny, but the parents couldn’t believe):
Flight Delay (cause unknown, but “kid in control tower” incident suspected):
Actual flight:
Wait on tarmac (after pilot announces “We’ll be taxing to the gate in just a few minutes”):
Wait at gate:
Wait at baggage claim:
Wait at baggage claim “lost luggage” department:
Time-out for deep, calming breaths:
Finding car in long-term parking after losing slip of paper with level and section number:
Explaining why there won’t be any more family trips until the memory of this last one has faded away completely:
What’s sex? Did you take drugs in college? Why did you vote for George W. Bush* the second time? Kids ask questions all the time, but there’s a difference between the ones parents can’t answer — “Does God need to shower?” — and the ones (some) parents don’t want to. The solution? Perhaps we can take a cue from politicians, their press secretaries and the so-called “bipartisan” pundits we see on TV and use the same simple strategies for answering without answering. 1. Give a detailed, thoughtful response, just not to the question they ask. Campaigning politicians are particularly good at this, and the trick is to remember that your answer can be anything, just as long as you can loosely relate it to the original question. For example, if asked about drugs, begin by saying “I’m glad you asked me about smoking pot in college…,” which makes it sound like you’re going to admit that for most of your sophomore year your best friend was your bong, but then say “…because I think it’s important that we be open and honest with each other, especially now that you’re older and starting to ask hard questions. It seems like only yesterday when the most important thing on your mind was which Power Ranger you wanted to dress up as, or if a certain Pokemon could beat a certain other kind of Pokemon. I have to admit that watching you grow up has been one of the most satisfying experiences of my life, and I look forward to helping you continue on that journey towards adult- hood by providing you with the information and insight I myself have gained over the years…” If you haven’t lost them by then, just keep talking. 2. Focus on “the larger issue.” Which can be pretty much anything you want it to be. 3. Ask your kids what they think the answer is. Also known as the therapist approach. This works well for things you don’t really know how to explain, but not-so- well for things you’re just not comfortable talking about. 4. Lie. Time was that people who didn’t tell the truth were called liars and they were looked down upon, but thanks to all the CEO’s, athletes, politicians and ce- lebrities who’ve been caught with their pants down (or off, or filled with drugs, etc.) those days seem to be over. The best thing about this approach is that if your lie is later exposed, you can claim you just “misspoke.” As in “Yes, I can see how my response to the ques- tion ‘Did I vote for George W. Bush?’ might have been confusing, because when I said ‘No,’ I actually misspoke. In point of fact – and because it’s im- portant to me that the record accurately reflect my views – I didn’t mean ‘No’ in the traditional sense of the word, and I can see now how my incorrect use of that word might have been somewhat misleading, because what I, in fact, meant was that I felt that in light of the specific challenges facing the Presi- dent at that time, it was important for me – and really, all of us as a nation – to remain united and strong, and because of that, I did my duty as an American by going to the polls and casting a ballot so my voice could be heard, and even though that ballot was nominally in the affirmative, it was really more a show of support for the country as a whole than a specific endorsement of any one candidate. I voted because it’s the duty of every citizen to vote, and for that I will never apologize.” 5. Use a spokesperson. Either a hired professional or your spouse, if he or she has the BS skills required. This has the added benefit of distancing you from your answer, whatever that might be. Plus, if you are later confronted about the answer your spokesperson gave on your behalf, you can say you didn’t actually mean whatever it was they said and that you must have been “quoted out of context.” *Or, increasingly for many, Barack Obama the first time. Advocates of open-carry gun laws are targeting Starbucks, but how will the coffee giant respond? It’s likely a team of lawyers will spend a few hundred billable hours developing a 100% defensible non-position, but what if Starbucks decides to embrace the situation instead and use it as an opportunity to put its customers first – even the ones who are packing heat? Pairing Suggestions
…the answer is “NO!,” regardless of whether the question was “Are you up- set?” or “Can I go to the potty?” …you call your kids by the wrong names. Or worse – by the dog’s. …simple things become infinitely complicated, to the point where microwaving chicken nuggets takes an hour. …you can’t remember if it’s your day to do the pick-up, and if you think it is, it isn’t, and if you think it isn’t, it is. …you try to play hide ‘n’ seek but fall asleep in the upstairs hall closet. …your spouse is “in the mood” and doesn’t understand why you’re not. …somebody throws up, bleeds on something, or has “an accident.” …non-parents suggest you just put the kids to bed early and get some sleep, but you’re too tired to tell them what a massively stupid and unrealistic idea that is. …telemarketers call every few minutes asking you to donate. …helping your kids with their homework proves so stressful and challenging, it makes you cry, even though it’s just addition. …you don’t realize you’re yelling at your kids until everybody else in the supermarket aisle starts to stare. …you push on, because you’re a parent and that’s what parents do.
KID: Why’s Dad throwing up in the bathroom? GET UP! GET UP! WE OVERSLEPT! For most families, Daylight Saving Time turns what’s typically a frantic, time-crunched mess of morning activity into a domestic version of roller derby, with everyone throwing elbows and accusations as they scramble to get dressed and get out the door: RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: You said you were gonna change the clock. According to wikipedia, Daylight Saving Time, which was standardized across most of the United States in 1967, was primarily intended to reduce energy consumption — the “extra” hour of daylight in the afternoon was supposed to mean fewer lights would have to be on at offices, retailers, restaurants etc. But when you consider how most people react when the Daylight Saving Time-bomb goes off, it’s more likely that any energy savings will be more than off-set by the increased consumption caused by all the stupid things people do when their sleeping patterns get disrupted. What’s the net-effect of having to make two extra trips to the grocery store — the first because you accidentally left your list at home, and the second because you accidentally left your kid there? Or what about having to replace a freezer full of food because just after you opened the door to sneak some ice cream for breakfast, you realized the soccer game you thought was next weekend, wasn’t, but that if you left RIGHT NOW! you might still make it? Or what about having to run an electric air pump off and on all night because otherwise the slightly-leaky inflatable mattress in the den you’ve been banished to because you said one-too-many mean things to your spouse will deflate? IDIOT: If you reminded me to change the clock, then why didn’t I change it? Net energy savings: probably zero And what happens when you factor in the cost of dealing with all that stress, ill-will and negativity? Therapists — whether for marriage or anger-management — don’t make house calls (and if they do, they don’t make them on bikes). There are bars for sulking/hiding/venting, of course, but they generally don’t have windows, meaning light (but not illumination) comes only from energy-sucking neon signs. The gym? Maybe in the old days when free weights and stationary bikes were the norm, but now it seems like every piece of exercise equipment has to be plugged in or it won’t work. Net energy savings: definitely zero All of which raises the question: if Daylight Saving Time doesn’t actually save anything, what’s the point? Perhaps the one good thing about Daylight Saving Time is that between all the extra caffeine it takes to get through the day and the fact that no matter how late the clock says it is, it’s impossible to sleep, everyone affected by it can spend half the night staring at the ceiling trying to figure that out. 7:21 am. 7:37 am. 7:43 am. 7:46 am. 7:54 am. 7:56 am. 8:01 am. 8:02 am. 8:08 am. 8:09 am. 8:10 am. There’s a lot of controversy surrounding kids in the control tower, but what’s the big deal? What would really happen if the FAA decided to let kids land planes? Five consequences: 1. New pre-flight procedures: PILOT: Air Traffic Control, Alaska 827 requesting permission to take off. 2. Pilots who didn’t follow directions wouldn’t just be grounded, they’d be sent to bed without dinner: KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Northwest 104, where have you been? Do you know what time it is? 3. Pilots would be expected to use good manners: PILOT: Air Traffic Control, this is United 817, request permission to drop to 10,000 feet. 4. No more foreign flights: PILOT: Air Traffic Control, this is Ukrainian Airlines 202, over… Come in Air Traffic Control, this is Ukrainian Airlines 202… Air Traffic Control? Hello? Is anybody there? 5. All planes would have to land by 8 pm on a school night, 10 pm on weekends: PILOT: Air Traffic Control, this is Alaska 111, requesting assistance. On most days, even when I get up too early, I’m already running late. So that by the time I get showered, get dressed, get the kids ready, get in the car, get the kids to school and get to Starbucks, I have used up what little energy I began the day with and what I really want is my venti extra-shot Americano. Now. IIn the old days, this was easy because vain, arrogant, intimidating baristas would glare so angrily at anyone who ordered wrong – a “vanilla sugar-free grande triple latte” instead of a “triple grande sugar-free vanilla latte,” for example – the poor soul would have no choice but to take his or her drink and slink away in shame, silently vowing to avoid such humiliation tomorrow by going somewhere else and leaving Starbucks to the caffeine addicts. Baristaphobia = shorter lines. But now that McDonald’s has McLattes, Dunkin’ Donuts touts the dunkin’ as much as the donuts, and break rooms everywhere include at least one vending machine that can automatically make any one of a dozen coffee-drinks, Starbucks seems to have realized they have to do more than just serve coffee if they want to make money, they have to serve customers. Who can blame them? It worked for Burger King back in the ‘70s, so why not? (Except instead of “Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce, special orders don’t upset us,” it might be: Obviously, there’s nothing inherently wrong with being nice, but the result of this customer-friendly attitude is that all the people who used to stay away from Starbucks because they were afraid of being yelled at are now standing in line right in front of me, asking what the difference between a “misto” and a “macchiato” is or trying to decide if they’d like to try a breakfast sandwich. Worse, the baristas are not just being polite to them, they’re being chatty, too. Which means that in addition to wanting to know exactly how they can make the customer’s drink exactly the way they’d like it made, they want to know how their day is, what kind of plans they have, how their family is, etc. And when I finally get to the front of the line, they want to know that about me, too. Except at 7:43 in the morning, after having been up all night with a vomiting toddler and a dog who wants me to get up every couple of hours and go to the window to look at the neighbor’s cat, I don’t want to be friendly to anyone – not my kids, not my spouse, not my neighbors and certainly not my barista. Unfortunately, as much as I want to respond to the question “How’s your day going so far?” by saying “It would be a lot better if I didn’t have to wait in line for 25 minutes to get a cup of coffee,” I don’t. Because whether it’s crack cocaine or caffeine, addicts like me will do anything to get their fix – even smile and pretend to be friendly. (And while there are still any number of alternatives to Starbucks, places where the lines are short and somber, and the baristas still act like divas, they’re a few blocks out of the way, and the only thing worse than waiting a few extra minutes in line is waiting a few extra minutes in traffic.) The bad times may be over, but the good times aren’t going to return any time soon. For many of us, that’s troubling. But it can also be inspiring – especially when it comes to finding appropriate ways to spend quality time with family. Kick The Can(didate) Family members divide up into two groups: Democrats and Republicans. Democrats try to prevent Republicans from kicking the can, just like in the classic childhood game, but have to put on blinders and argue among themselves, making it very easy for a lone Republican to come out of nowhere and kick the can. Alternately, family members don’t divide up into Democrats and Republicans at all, but just play as a single group of Democrats who work against each other to both kick the can and prevent the can from being kicked, turning the whole game into an ugly, shameless, ultimately un-winnable waste of time. Liar’s Dice, The Wall Street Edition In the traditional game, players roll a handful of dice and then try to lie about how many 1’s, 2’s, 3’s, 4’s, 5’s and 6’s they have. If one player doesn’t believe another, he or she says “liar.” If the accused is actually lying, he or she loses a die; if the accused is telling the truth, the accuser loses a die. The game continues until there’s only one player left. This version is played the exact same way, except that whenever a player lies and loses a die, he or she gets to replace it with one provided by the Treasury Department for as long as the government has adequate dice reserves, or can borrow dice from China. Tea Party The point of this game is to pretend to spontaneously gather around an imaginary table drinking imaginary tea from imaginary cups until the media believes it’s real, and then form a grassroots special interest group to force everybody to move to the right. Duck Duck Goose Each player pretends to be a homeowner and sits in a circle with the other homeowners. One player – representing a soon-to-reset adjustable rate mortgage, crushing equity line, further decline in housing prices, prolonged period of unemployment or other form of bad luck – walks around and taps each of them on the head, saying “Duck… Duck… Duck…” This goes on for an inordinately long time, with all the anxious homeowners hoping the bad luck will just go away. It doesn’t. When bad luck finally says “goose,” the player he or she just tapped sits there quietly in a complete state of denial, then wanders off leaving an empty spot in the circle. This goes on for an inordinately long time, too, until even the remaining homeowners are too depressed to continue. What’s my party line? Throw a blanket over your TV set and then randomly tune it to Fox News, CNN or MSNBC and see if you can tell what party’s talking points the supposedly non-partisan/independent/”fair and balanced” experts are secretly touting. I Spy Just like regular “I Spy,” only with the more apropos subjects: “I Spy, with my little eye, something that begins with F… a foreclosed house.” Or “I Spy, with my little eye, something that begins with O… a one-term president.” The Telephony Game Start with any of the promises Banks made when they needed to be bailed out – to take fewer risks, not put profits first, learn from their mistakes, help homeowners modify bad loans, etc. – and play the telephone game to see if any of these phrases end up making any sense at all. Pin The Tail (Of Blame) On The Donkey Much like ‘08s most popular game, “Pin The Tail on The Elephant,” this one substitutes a donkey and uses a much, much bigger tail. Don’t Be Afraid Of The Big, Bad Wolf Players divide into three teams, and then each team builds a house. The first uses straw, which represents a “no-doc” loan, the second uses wood, which represents a zero-down, adjustable-rate mortgage, and the third uses brick, which represents a 30-year fixed-mortgage with 20% down that will never, ever cause problems. They then wait for the Big Bad Wolf to huff and puff and try to blow their houses down. Obama Limbo How low can President Obama’s approval rating go? Put on “The Limbo Song” and see. Republican Hokey Pokey You put your right foot in, and then instead of putting your left foot in, you put your right foot in even farther unless you want the Tea Baggers to knock you over. Ghost in The Graveyard Shift Similar to the classic childhood game, except when word gets out you’re playing, 10,000 people show up. (To see family games from last year, click here.)
But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good when you do. It seems like there are two kinds of divorces: the ones where the split is amicable, or at least free from a restraining order, and the ones you get caught in the middle of – where the pain, hatred, contempt, frustration, mistrust and loathing go on long after the marriage ends. Staying neutral can be a challenge for even the most savvy and diplomatic, but usually – eventually – you’re sucked in: BITTER EX-HUSBAND: Can you believe my ex-wife! She’s such a selfish, spoiled, careless, mean, stupid, cow. Don’t you think? As ugly as these conversations can be, at least they don’t require you to anything more than walk away. What can be worse is when you’re pressed into service: BITTER EX-WIFE: Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you: you see my ex-husband when he picks up the kids, right? Fortunately, there is one benefit to being caught in the middle of this kind of animosity: it reminds you to treat your own spouse with a little more kindness and compassion, if for no other reason the last thing you want is to put your friends, neighbors or even acquaintances in the position of being the “you” in any of the exchanges above.
While it may seem helpful that every toy in the toy store is labeled with a “recommended for ages X to Y” or “suitable for ages X and up,” it’s not. In fact, in many ways it makes gift-giving much more complicated. Let’s start with infants, toddlers and pre-schoolers: there isn’t a 21st Century parent who doesn’t believe the one running around his or her house isn’t clearly more developmentally advanced than most others. Not convinced? Just think about any conversation you’ve had with the parents since they became parents: doesn’t it always include at least one funny/touching anecdote about how their little angel accomplished something a merely “average” child wouldn’t be expected to do until he or she was much, much older? Given this, it would seem logical to assume the child’s functional age would be much greater than the child’s actual age, to the point where, for example, a toy designed to help pre-schoolers improve small muscle control would be well-suited for their little toddler. But no. Because even if the kid is advanced, there’s no way he or she is that advanced, which means not only won’t the kid be able to use the toy (not for its intended purpose, anyway), the resulting failure, frustration and over-stimulation will lead to a massive meltdown the child’s parents will blame on you and the idiotic gift you bought that traumatized their offspring. You might as well have given the child a dunce cap and the parents a t-shirt that read “We’re the proud parents of a moron.” It doesn’t get any easier buying gifts for older kids, either. Let’s say you have an 11-year-old nephew who loves to play video games. Having spent some time with him, you realize his favorite games are ultra-violent first-person shooters and elaborate, adult-oriented fantasy role-playing games. So you buy him one. And then come Christmas Day, when you call over to the house to say “Season’s Greetings,” you’re shocked when nobody will speak to you. What happened? The game you got was rated “M for Mature,” just like the dozen other “M for Mature” games he has in his room and plays regularly. Except his parents didn’t realize this (either because they never set foot in his room because it’s too messy, or because they’re parents and they’re so overwhelmed with everyday demands they filter out everything that isn’t homework or a fight). PARENTS: What did Uncle Scott get you? The result is your nephew hates you because you got all his games taken away and his parents hate you because you’re probably the one who corrupted him in the first place. As if that’s not enough of an argument against age-appropriate guidelines, there’s also this problem: where do they come from? Obviously not from parents, because if they did there would be some kind of board or council or non-profit organization responsible for determining them that would have splintered years ago into Liberal, Conservative and Centrist factions that parents would be pressured to support or denounce. Guidelines clearly aren’t determined by toy manufacturers, either, as they would never open themselves up to such and easy-to-win lawsuit: ATTORNEY REPRESENTING CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT: Did you or did you not state that this toy was appropriate for children ages 8 and up? So who is responsible? Unfortunately, the only group that’s left is the same group of child development experts who make up all the other guidelines for children — which might seem fine, except that for every parent who agrees with their advice (and quotes it freely, and condemns anyone who doesn’t believe it) there’s another parent who thinks everything they say is just stupid. So unless you know exactly where the parents of the child you’re buying a gift for stand, you’re better off avoiding toys and their age-appropriate guidelines completely and doing what generations of non-parents have been doing for decades: giving U.S. Savings Bonds. Don’t give clothes, either, unless you’re absolutely certain the parents will like them, otherwise they end up in a giant box in the back of the closet that’s not just a pain to get out whenever you come over, but becomes an enduring reminder of your bad taste and/or cluelessness when it comes to what kinds of clothes real kids wear.
If Eskimos have a thousand words for snow, shouldn’t we have a thousand words for life’s little irritations? For most of us, a day doesn’t go by that God, the universe, fate, karma, quantum physics or all-of-the-above don’t needle our emotional well-being, usually when we’re running late, just had an argument with our spouse or suddenly realized we forgot to get a babysitter for tomorrow night so we could go to dinner and a movie and finally get a break from all this crap. It doesn’t help that these cosmic paper cuts never seem to be isolated one- offs, either, but instead come in sets, like celebrity deaths and unsolicited parenting suggestions from opinionated strangers – it’s not just the long line at Starbucks, it’s having them mess up your order twice and then spilling your extra-hot, half-caf hazelnut mocha down the front of your shirt as you pull out of the parking lot. The impact of these little irritations – and they are little, even if we can’t figure out how not to sweat them – increases exponentially as the day progresses, to the point where we find ourselves cursing some 82-year-old women with a walker because she’s not crossing the street fast enough, or threatening to ground our kids for the rest of their natural lives if they EVER give the dog another peanut butter and jelly sandwich again, or contemplating divorce because our spouse forgot (again) to fill up the car when it got close to empty, leaving us in the position of having to coast down the hill to the Shell. Psychologists say the only reason any of this stuff annoys us the way it does is because it reminds us that we’re not really in control (no matter how thoroughly we’ve managed to convince ourselves otherwise) and that ultimately mastering the moment isn’t nearly as important as just being in it, regardless of whether that moment is good, bad, satisfying, awful, rewarding, stressful, happy, sad, amusing, aggravating, etc. But as nice as that sounds (in a zen-like, higher-consciousness kind of way), who has the time to learn how to do that? Or the energy? Or the patience? If learning to live in the moment can’t be accomplished in one 30-minute session two times a week, in the car on the drive home from work, or during one of those rare moments when every kid in the house is quietly pre-occupied, then it just becomes one more thing we don’t have time to squeeze in but try to do anyway – or would try to do if we didn’t have to wait for the knucklehead in the car ahead of us to get off the phone and go. Note: It’s easy to complain about life’s little irritations, but it’s also important to point out that we could probably eliminate entire categories of irritation if we really, really wanted to – just moving to a remote cabin in Montana and living off the land, for example, would instantly rid us of driving-, shopping-, neighbor-, school- and work-related annoyances (though it would probably more than make up for that by adding starvation-, bear attack-, hypothermia-, and isolation-related irritations, so maybe that’s not such a good trade-off. Plus, let’s not forget that Unabomber Ted Kaczynski moved to a remote cabin in Montana so he could get away from it all and look what happened to him). Things we want but don’t need:
Things we need but don’t have:
Things we have but don’t use:
 Loading ...Everybody makes fun of Driver’s License photographs, but how good could anyone look after spending three hours and 19 minutes at a place like the DMV? The walls are painted a government-approved shade of beige that seems to have been chosen for its ability to induce nausea. God only knows what kind of deadly germs and pathogens are breeding freely on the furniture (which looks like it was bought on the cheap at a Nixon Administration yard sale and then left in a basement storage room for three decades). And if you think tinnitus is irritating, it’s a lullaby compared to the hum given off by row after row of cheap fluorescent lights. Still, that would all be tolerable if you could just take a number and wait by yourself. But you can’t. If you’ve ever wondered what the people on “Cops” do when they’re not getting arrested, or what somebody who considers personal hygiene to be optional looks like, all you have to do is turn to either side of you and say “hello.” Clearly, somebody has been peeing in the gene pool. How else can you explain the toothless, tattooed biker chick/meth addict taking the motorcycle test who doesn’t see the problem with asking the proctor if he can give her a hint? Or the old lady renewing her license who insists she doesn’t need a vision test, but then can’t even find the line she’s supposed to stand behind to take it? Or the guy at the center of a booze-cloud you can smell from 20 feet away who gets upset because they won’t let him re-take his driver’s test right now? As bad as it is to be near people like this, however, it’s a whole lot worse when you realize you’re no different than people like this – because when you get up to the window and the clerk says you need two additional pieces of ID, not one like you thought, you protest… And say nobody told you… And say you’ve been waiting all morning already… And say that they should make an exception… And say the rules are stupid… And say they are stupid for enforcing them… And say just about every idiotic thing you can think of, until you finally realize you are saying every idiotic thing you can think of. At which point you go home, get another ID, and wait in line all over again. And then they take your picture. Click.
If it’s the cleaning lady’s job to clean the house, why do we always pick up before she comes? (Usually just before she comes, too, with one of the kids stalling her in the foyer as we scramble to de-clutter the upstairs.) It would be one thing if we were motivated by conscience, believing it unfair to have her clean everything, but this doesn’t seem to be the case. Are we worried she’ll realize we’re really just a family of slobs? She can probably tell that already, thanks to dishes that occasionally end up under the bed and the collection of crumbs, coins and God-knows-what-it-is she regularly unearths from beneath the sofa cushions. Do we think she’ll tell the H.O.A. how much more disgusting our house is than, say, the neighbor’s down the street? (It is, but only because they have no kids.) Or do we just not want anyone — even the cleaning lady — to find out how much of our lifestyle is an illusion, and that the only parts we have the energy to maintain week in, week out, are the ones that other people see? (And if this is the case, is it a valid reason to switch to a cleaning service that relies on a small, anonymous army that moves too quickly for any one that’s a part of it to form any kind of impression of what a stye the house usually is?) Loading ...Spending too much time online? Wondering if it’s time to connect with friends the old-fashioned way?
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The end. Loading ...PARENT: Did you decide what you want to be yet? Which means:
Since educators are always looking for ways to make lessons more relevant to students, how about using more realistic scenarios in story problems? For example:
As if homework wasn’t depressing enough…
Now that Alaska Governor Sarah Palin has announced her resignation, what will she do next? Some possibilities, whether you love her or hate her:
They say: We don’t eat anything that’s not organic.
They mean: …except McDonald’s, KFC, Taco Bell or anyone else who gives a toy with a meal.
They say: I never spank my kids.
They mean: …unless they talk back, won’t listen, embarrass me in public or just piss me off.
They say: I only let my kids watch educational programming.
They mean: Cinemax is educational, right?
They say: My kids brush and floss their teeth every night without being told.
They mean: I think my kids brush and floss their teeth every night without being told, but I’m not really sure because I fall asleep on the sofa at 7:30.
They say: I never lie to my kids.
They mean: …unless I have to.
They say: My kids are really good eaters.
They mean: …as long as they get food they like, otherwise, just forget it.
They say: My kids are responsible.
They mean: …for leading all the other kids in the neighborhood astray.
NOTE: WE NOW HAVE ECARDS BASED ON SOME OF THESE SAYINS HERE
POLLSTER: I’m sorry to be the one to say this, Mr. President, but we have a problem. It’s easy to get mad at bad drivers, but sometimes there’s a simple explanation for why somebody stops at a green light, or makes a left hand turn from the far right lane, or just blatantly cuts you off. (Besides being too tired to see straight because they have kids who still won’t sleep through the night.) Where the ’70s had custom paint jobs, the ’90s had vanity plates. And even though they’ve become something of a cliche, they’re still an accurate way of understanding what a driver is thinking. Why is the guy in the vintage car you’re stuck behind going 20 mph under the speed limit? Because he’s “N2PL8Z” not “N2 DRVNG.” Why did that teenager just sideswiped your neighbor’s mailbox? “I♥TXTNG.” And why is the Nascar wannabe in the 2007 Dodge Challenger next to you at the stop light revving his engine? Because he’s “2FAST4U” (though, unfortunately for him, not 2FAST4 the highway patrol car waiting behind the overpass up ahead.) But as good as vanity plates are, they’re not nearly as insightful as bumper stickers. If it’s “EARTH FIRST!” that means it’s good driving second, which easily explains why that bio-diesel conversion that smells like a giant french fry is driving the wrong way down a one way street. Not to be too political, but if you’ve ever been driven off the road by a convoy of protesters racing to their next rally, you know that just because somebody’s “PRO LIFE” or “PRO CHOICE” doesn’t mean they’re pro-stop sign, pro-”Do Not Pass” or pro-speed limit.” And while “MEAT IS MURDER,” running somebody over is just vehicular manslaughter, which is why that emaciated 20-something in the vintage Volvo seems more concerned with finding the only Vegan restaurant in town than looking out for pedestrians. Not that anyone is perfect, of course, but why call attention to yourself? It’s great to “PRACTICE RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS,” but not for every single driver who wants to cut in. “WHAT WOULD SCOOBY DO?” He’d let Fred drive because he’s too stoned. And if we’re supposed to “CALL 1 800 EAT-SHIT” to lodge a complaint, how can we do it from the car if we’re not allowed to use cellphones anymore? Still, as irritating as other drivers can be, it’s not like we can just walk away.
DICK CHENEY: Jesus Christ! Lindsay Lohan Since the public is more interested in celebrity than the law (except where the two collide), why not add a little star-power to the Supreme Court? Rumors of whether she’s dating Ruth Bader Ginsburg or not would keep the tabloids buzzing for months, and after that there’d certainly be a steady stream of scandal and indiscretion. The winner of the next American Idol Every court case is really just a glorified popularity contest anyway, so at least this would bring in somebody with national experience. David Letterman A lot of people say legal opinions are a joke, but at least this way they’d be funny. A XXX Porn Star This way when people say they were screwed by the court, at least it would have been done by a professional. Simon Cowell Given the way he shreds everybody who appears before him, it would certainly make C-Span coverage of Supreme Court arguments fun to watch. (Though it might make Judge Scalia jealous, since he’s the one who does this kind of thing right now.) Jeb Bush After what George W. did to the family name, the only shot he has at any kind of position of power in the U.S. is one he’s appointed to. Dan Brown, James Paterson, John Grisham etc. Supreme Court opinions are usually so boring, nobody reads them. At least with one of these guys they’d be popular page-turners where you wouldn’t find out whether they dissent, concur or side with the majority until the very last sentence. Plus, all those convoluted twists and turns of logic that sometimes seem to come out of nowhere would just be seen as good ways of advancing the plot. Bill Clinton People wonder what Supreme Court Justices wear under their robes, but with him on the bench everybody would know: nothing. Nancy Reagan’s old Astrologer Because maybe it’s time legal opinions were based on something besides an interpretation of the law? A random citizen If being randomly selected is good enough for being on a jury, why not use the same criteria for being on the bench, too? While it’s true that most people don’t know the first thing about the law, that just gives lawyers an advantage. Besides, wouldn’t it be refreshing to hear a Supreme Court Justice say “it may be legal, but it’s stupid. So I say ‘Strike it down!’” The “Octomom” While you could question her judgment in having so many babies, with that many kids in her care, she’ll have to master the art of making Solomon-like decisions, which is exactly the kind of thing a good Supreme Court Judge should do. Bozo, The Clown For the obvious reason that confirmation hearings have become nothing more than a 3-ring circus. Oprah For millions of Americans, her word is already law, so why not just go ahead and put some Constitutional authority behind it? In light of Texas Governor Rick Perry’s recent flirtation with independence, other states might do well to consider seceding, too: Illinois Secedes for 48 hours – long enough to declare all forms of political corruption, both past and present, legal, then rejoins United States. Louisiana Declares independence, then lobbies U.S. government for humanitarian aid to finish repairs from hurricane Katrina. Mississippi, Arkansas Follow Louisiana’s lead in the hope of getting aid, but are shocked to discover that with nothing of significance except The William J. Clinton Presidential Library, the U.S. government just isn’t interested in giving them any money. Stiffed, they form a new country called “Miss An”, and — after U.S. stops providing operating funds for the Clinton Library — they turn it into a whorehouse, which everybody thinks if kind of appropriate. For the U.S., not having to include Mississippi in secondary school math, science and reading proficiency test results instantly bumps it from 39th in the world to 14th, which the Obama administration uses as proof its education policies are working. North Dakota & South Dakota Both declare independence, but tensions mount when they each demand to be called simply “Dakota.” War breaks out, and for a while it looks like South Dakota will win until newly-independent Montana – which seceded when the federal government balked at its plans to abolish speed limits on all of its roads – comes in on the side of the former North Dakota. Florida Leaves union, reveals itself to be populated almost entirely by aliens. Michigan’s Upper Peninsula Leaves U.S. for Canada, doesn’t see any real difference except in switching from dollars to loonies. Utah HBO mounts stealth grassroots campaign for Utah independence in an attempt to boost ratings for “Big Love,” but ultimately pulls out when it realizes it doesn’t have any money left to spend after subscriptions wither away because it doesn’t have any hits anymore. Nevada Declares independence, legalizes everything, but is then mysteriously swallowed up by a giant sandstorm that many claim came to be the handiwork of God, but is really just an unexpected consequence of Lake Mead going completely dry. Puerto Rico Given the exodus of states, Puerto Rico finally makes a serious bid for statehood but is rejected. California Initially splits into North California and South California, with capitols in San Jose and Burbank, respectively. Following the passage of Proposition 2BU, San Francisco is allowed to declare itself a sovereign nation akin to Vatican City (or, perhaps, the anti-Vatican City), but this liberal utopia quickly goes to shit when President Newsom gives into City Council pressure and abolishes the rule of law entirely. Within days, it becomes clear that nobody is inherently fair and good, as many in the area had come to believe, and are instead selfish and cruel, as Conservatives had long suggested. It isn’t until Nancy Pelosi kisses Dick Cheney’s fat, white ass that he agrees to provide her with a Haliburton private contractor army she can use to restore order. Texas After holding a press conference to say he hadn’t advocated secession, Gov. Rick Perry holds another press conference to say that he misspoke at the earlier press conference and that he did, in fact, suggest that Texas secede — until he realizes that if Texas secedes it would have to deal with illegal immigration and border violence without the benefit of federal funds, and then reverses himself on reversing himself on reversing himself until nobody knows what the Hell he means and elects somebody else Governor. Washington D.C. Finally allowed to become a state, but elects Marion Berry Governor and then has statehood revoked for lack of jugement.
Scores of Americans are protesting taxes by holding “Tea Parties” in dozens of cities across the country, but what kind of tea are they serving? The problem is that just about every kind of tea has something that makes it a bad choice. For example:
All of which leaves Long Island Iced Tea, which isn’t even tea but a near-100% alcohol cocktail, which probably makes sense since you’d have to be drunk to think protesting will do any good.
KID: How can you lose a house? Shortly after announcing plans to shut down Gitmo at some point in the not-too-distant future, President Obama was attacked by Republicans for living in fantasyland if he thinks this can happen, if for no other reason than there’s nowhere else the government can house detainees – at least not anywhere they could legally continue to deny them their legal rights. “Maybe we should re-open Alcatraz and put them there?” joked House Minority Leader John Boehner (R-OH), probably because the island prison is located in House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s district. But instead of dismissing these gripes, perhaps it would behoove President Obama to actually consider what his opponents are saying? Take Alcatraz. While it’s now a National Park, it was once the nation’s most secure prison, so it’s not like we haven’t put scary people there before. Nobody has every successfully escaped from Alcatraz, either, except Clint Eastwood and Sean Connery, but they only did it in the movies. And even if one of these dangerous fundamentalist Islamic terrorists did escape, they’d wind up in San Francisco, which – with its ultra-liberal ways, vibrant gay and lesbian community and tolerance for pretty much anything – is probably the one place in the world they’d be so horrified to see they’d just drop dead from shock. As for the fantasyland comment, parents everywhere can attest that the real Fantasyland, located in Disney’s Magic Kingdom, would make a good place for detainees, too, because not only is it nearly impossible to escape from, no matter how hard you try or what methods you resort to – i.e. bribes, threats, various forms of verbal abuse etc. – it has the added benefits of having its own security force, so it’s not subject to local laws, being conveniently located just a few hours from the Everglades, where uncooperative tourists terrorists can be “accidentally” dropped off to be eaten by crocodiles, and in light of harsher forms of interrogation being outlawed, it comes complete with the simple yet effective way of coercing confessions from prisoners: making them ride “It’s a Small World” over and over again. Plus, in terms of cost, as outrageous as many feel ticket prices are, they’re still nothing compared to what the government is already spending on detainees right now. On the other hand, since Disney might object to one of it’s theme parks being used to house terrorists, perhaps a better alternative would be the DMV. While not quite as secure as a place with walls or fences, it’s still pretty much impossible to ever get out of, at least not with your sanity in tact, and given the on-going legal questions concerning equal protection, it’s worth noting that everybody who winds up at the DMV – detainee or American citizen – has their most most basic human rights violated repeatedly, effortlessly and without consequence. And anyone worried that detainees might be treated too kindly at such a place need only imagine them standing in line for 18 hours or more while waiting for the next window to become available, being forcibly restrained as two 400 lb. women sit down on either side of them in the waiting area, or being subjected to water-boarding’s distant cousin: the written and driving portions of the Driver’s License exam. Then again, as Abu Ghraib was closed for similar abuses, perhaps the best solution would be to simply house the detainees with members of Congress who are too busy sniping and complaining to offer realistic alternatives, because nothing would motivate them to find a bipartisan solution more than having to share a bathroom with the jihadist in the guest room. Not for the way he’s handled the nation’s business (both sides of the aisle seem to give him good marks so far) but because he let his daughters have a sleepover on a school night. A SCHOOL NIGHT! If one of his goals is to lead by example, what kind of example does this set for the rest of America’s parents? Kid: Can I have a sleepover tonight? As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had the audacity to arrange for screenings of both “High School Musical 3” and “Bolt,” which won’t be out on home video for months (except in China), followed by a private concert by Jonas Brothers. There’s no question the First Daughters deserve something special for what they have gone through over the last 18 months, but it’s important to be conservative (just this once, anyway) because there are a lot of parents in American who will do anything for their kids – even vote Republican in 2012 if that’s the only way they can avoid being shown up. While administering the Oath of Office today to Barack Obama, Chief Justice John Roberts departed from the original text and said “…execute the Office of The President of The United State faithfully…” instead of “…faithfully execute the Office of The President…” As the Oath is part of The Constitution, legal scholars immediately weighed in. Strict Constructionists defended Roberts by pointing out that this was nothing more than a minor change and that when his intent and other contributing factors were taken into account it was clearly no big deal. Liberals disagreed, naturally, and quickly condemned Roberts for such a blatant act of judicial activism. While pretty much everyone else just assumed Roberts messed up because it was cold.
Kid #1: Got your Halloween costume yet? When it comes to solving the nation’s problems, why does it seem like solutions aren’t nearly as important as blame? Sure, blame makes for spirited debates on the Sunday morning talk shows and gives politicians material for their fundraising letters, but mostly it just helps us quickly pick sides in the ideological fight for the country’s future — which may explain why no matter how how unique, unexpected, unusual or complicated the problem, the root cause always comes from the same list. For Republicans:
For Democrats:
According to a recent research study, one in five adults who responded to a survey admitted to using Ritalin or Adderall to boost their brain power. When asked where they got the drugs, most just mumbled and said “I can’t remember,” but speculation is they simply raided their kids’ medicine cabinet. And while this clearly breaches the bonds of trust between parent and child, when you consider how often kids raid their parents’ liquor cabinet, it seems only fair.
*Not yet, anyway. Is there really a difference between a Romanée-Conti and a bottle of Manischewitz? Probably, but according to research by Stanford and The California Institute of Technology, just raising the price of Manischewitz a thousand dollars would make it taste better. A group of scientists – who clearly have way, way too much time on their hands – mapped the brains of people while they tasted wines to see how much their pleasure centers would light up. It turns out that even when two wines were identical, the one people were told was more expensive produced considerably more brain activity, meaning they liked it better. While this is somewhat surprising, it also makes sense in an Emperor’s New Clothes kind of way, and can probably be generalized to all experiences. Meaning that if you’re planning, for example, on getting your wife a diamond ring for her birthday, forget it and just order a cubic zirconia from the Shop-At-Home Network and stick it in a Tiffany’s box: WIFE: Is this what I think it is? Or if your husband’s snobby wine friends are coming to dinner, just decant a bottle of Two Buck Chuck and tell them it’s a rare first-growth Bordeaux. They’ll marvel at the complexity and say they can really taste the “terroir,” at which point you can say “Terroir is bullshit! — at least that’s what Malcom Gluck says.” Not only will you have dropped the name of a wine expert wine snobs love to hate, you’ll be 100% correct. And then you can push things even farther and bring out that can of Spam® they brought as a gag gift last time they came over and tell them it’s imported patè. Best of all, while this kind of sneaky, deceitful behavior might have made you feel guilty in the past, you can now feel good about yourself because you’re actually giving everyone a better experience. And what could be wrong with that? |
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