These folks think of the military the way a five-year-old thinks about action figures - heroic, but no real flesh and blood. And if one gets broken, well poopies, but soon forgotten. Their understanding of Jesus I think is more of a five-year-old’s understanding of Thor, or maybe Captain America.

So my Mom gave me some salted capers. Apparently you are supposed rinse them? As if - two or three of them are just a too damn perfect “pow” of salt and sour.

Tides go in, tides go out. Can’t explain it. And magnets - don’t get me started on magnets.

And of course the Republicans have done everything in their power to a) yank the rug out from all those micro-entrepreneurs and b) make damn sure only a very tiny percentage of American families can afford to maintain a one-income household even if they wanted to.

You must never have had the privilege. It was my first “real” job.

My best dog was named Fagin (Mom named all our dogs after Dicken’s characters). No pics - imagine the biggest, most beautiful tri-color collie ever. Anyway, he took after his namesake - if you put a camera on his back, he’d have been down to the pawn shop in nothing flat. Sneakiest, most conniving dog I ever met.

My 15 year old self would be like, “What’s with the vests you wear all the time?” And I’d be “Well, there was this girl. BTW, she’s a diagnosed nut case, stay away. But she bought me my first vest, and that at least has staying power. Also, buy Apple stock when it crashes.”

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Yes. Because ponies. And Jesus. Definitely Jesus.

I have a Tea Party minimum wage guy from high school in my Facebook feed. Besides immediate family, I've known him longer than anybody. And he is ultra, ultra opposed to raising the minimum wage. Posting stuff about how funny it will be when McD's cashiers will be replaced by robots. Huh? Chris (real name), you stack…

I am a few months shy of being the oldest Gen-Xer. One of my only regrets is that, unless I win the longevity lottery bigtime, there are thousands of Baby Boomers who will outlive me.

Not everyone of course - but if you are looking for early warning signs, anyone who mistreats wait-staff or retail staff is an automatic HELL NO, so some people pay very close attention.

Agreed. I mean, my folks were basically Communists politically, but if I so much as breathed wrong in a restaurant they were on me like a ton of bricks.

I love pickles. I'm the guy who eats the pickles when other diners say, "Anyone want my pickles?"

Patriarchy. That is the word you are looking for.

Quit being so precious. Everyone who has danced to rumba while the singer sang about Chango was not participating in Santeria rituals. No more than I’m participating in Christian ritual when I say “Merry Christmas.” And both of those things are much more explicitly religious than American style yoga.

Edit: oops, I was replying to someone else - but thanks!

Lol - actually, I did some research - it's called "Salon style."

I finally got around to framing all that stuff that was in my closet. It was a little pricey, but I'm learning to like that "walls absolutely plastered in art" look. (There's a word for that, can't find it.)

The on-off switch on mine has begun to get iffy. This makes me sad.