One dinner last week I had a box of Annie’s mac-and-cheese mixed up with a package of expired bratwurst I got on manager’s special at a supermarket going-out-of-business sale. I am decidedly not poor - just enjoy doing things like that sometimes.

I think the point the author was making is the Cubs were such shit that whoever won the Mets/Dodgers series was going to the WS.

As evidenced in further comments below, I am shocked to learn that Eli Whitney was of a different background than I vaguely recall being taught.

That’s crazy talk. Mayo is delightful.

The NYC public school system of the 1970s has some explaining to do.

Madden was impossible to listen to. All that “Whap! Bam!” shit, that turkey leg shtick... he was awful. And yet everyone would carry on about how great he was.

Yeah, but on the other hand you have a law degree for life. Get into your mid 40s on the creative side, making that large dough and billing out at $220/hr, prepare to be replaced by someone making half your salary. Then get ready to desperately bounce around freelance gigs for another 10 years until you finally give…

I didn’t even think about shots. So if a guy pours out a row of ten Fireballs for a bachelorette party, he’s thinking he should get a $10 tip? No fucking way. Same for multiple beers. If I get up to get the next round of, say, 6 beers @$5 a pop, a $6 tip seems excessive.

Are we really going to pretend there’s no particular reason we had the invention of the cotton gin drilled into our heads?

That is a shocker. Government should confiscate all assets of the (white) dead and distribute them to the Millenial minorities. That would be fair!

It’s not because I’m lucky OR good. It’s because my parents are good. Parents who can’t afford to help their children are bad parents, and bad people for having had kids when they couldn’t afford to do it right.

But the more important question: do you don the hair shirt of white guilt for this? Because that is the not very subtle subtext of this article, and the comments.

Some call it “privilege”. Others call it having responsible parents that aren’t assholes.

If I’m at a nice place and the bartender fixes me up an especially good Manhattan, he’s certainly getting more than $1. I’m thinking of my Jersey Shore days, where five bartenders are selling Bud Lights as fast as they can open ‘em up. Those guys should be thrilled to get a buck a beer, especially since most patrons…

A bartender at a high-volume drinkery slinging beers and shots should be able to serve 2 drinks a minute on average. That’s $120 an hour, tax-free. That’s adequate.

“You’re out of X? Alright, gimme whatever’s close.” It’s beer, not a car purchase. I picked a college easier than I’ve seen some people decide on a beer.

Once you’re old and married (and presumably not cheating), the need for bar atmosphere diminishes greatly. I hate the music played 90% of the time. I hate dummies bumping into me. I hate waiting for my next drink. I hate waiting to pee. I hate trying to watch a game over the racket. I hate wasting $100.

That playoff series was infuriating. He was a nothing, replacement-level player for the Mets. Suddenly he’s Mike Schmidt!

I reserve my vitriol for the folks belting out tunes (especially the quieter acoustic ones) at the top of their lungs. Particularly when they get all indignant when you ask them to shut up. “I’m just getting into the show.” No, you’re annoying everyone.

Two decent seats for any of the old-white-guy bands I favor are easily $300-500. It doesn’t make me Richie Rich. I skimp in other areas.