The gist of my sentiments here today is this: on the 27th of this month, I will be fifty years old. I don’t understand it any better than you do. I feel no older than 38. I don’t look at my face, hands, or body and see those of a fifty-year-old man. I can walk a mile in ninety-degree weather without issues. I don’t talk about it much because my age is a recurring reminder that my ability to empathize with other humans will only continue to dissipate.Continue reading
Category Archives: Nostalgic Obsessions
I’ve noticed that it’s become de rigueur to over-criticize everything (other than personal politics, mandates, foreign governments, or presidents not named Trump), particularly when it comes to the Sopranos prequel. People are so desperate to appear savvy and informed that they will over-analyze things, thereby nullifying the joy of discovery. You talk yourself into hating, in the futile hopes of besting the haters. You’re afraid to love something that someone else might hate.
To prove my point, I’m going to stick thoughts into your head that will make you hate your favorite things. Let’s start with The Sopranos!
Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! Come on in and grab a plate and a chair, there’s plenty of food and room at the table for all of you. Just chuck your mask in the bushes by the curb, with all the discarded latex gloves, empty sanitizer bottles and other accepted detritus of 2020. I care about coronavirus even less than my neighbors care about litter or landscape pollution.Continue reading