The vibe I got off that whole trip to Paris thing was that Macron doing some sort of “Dinner for Schmucks” dare with the rest of the EU leadership.

There is so much to unpack from the fact he sat next to Abe for several hours at dinner and has no idea she speaks English 7 days later.

You know the sad part? Even the military police in western Europe seem more polite and deferential than my local LAPD.

On...Jezebel?

My dad has had a moustache and beard for my entire life. When we were little my sisters and I tried to get him to shave it off because it was itchy when he hugged us and he told us he couldn’t because he didn’t have a face underneath the hair. Now I am a grown-ass adult but I still shudder inside when his wife talks…

My dad’s family were Hungarian immigrants. Maybe that was why affection in terms of hugs and “I love yous” never came easily to him. He was gruff but we quickly learned it was mostly just show and he became “The Old Bear”. He taught me how to: throw a split finger knuckle ball, how to tie over a dozen types of knots,…

I shared this story on Jezebel before, but it was a long time ago, so might as well tell it again:

My father described his father as an oak tree in his eulogy. Steady, stable, with a quiet dignity. He also described himself.

Our family has a long standing tradition that any celebration involving cards, the card must be totally inappropriate, addressed to someone else, and signed by someone else.

My dad is one of the kindest, smartest, funniest men I know. He was a Wall Street banker for years with secret dreams of being a jazz guitarist. Basically hated his career in financial services though he does recognize he was able to provide quite a secure life for his family. He is pursuing his jazz in retirement…

My dad is a saaaaaaint. I love him. He is my favourite person in the world. He is also the source of 90% of my irritation in any given day but that’s parents for you. He has always been a world-class dad. I had terrible sleep problems when I was little so he used to come into my room and sleep on the floor until I…

My Dad was a wonderful man. He took my sister and I to breakfast every Saturday morning so Mom could sleep in. This happened every Saturday (I got cheeseburgers, sis chocolate chip pancakes) no matter how long he’d been on the road (selling hunks of steel - that z-shaped thing your bike pedal is on is a “forging”). He…

My dad couldn’t care less about the holiday or presents. He often forgot it altogether and was genuinely surprised when we gave him anything. He loved to drink beer and whiskey, grill meat and eat until he was going to explode, he’d put on classical music albums on, sit on the couch and close his eyes, he never hit me…

My father is...not nice, let’s put it that way. Now my grandpa (mom’s dad) is great. He never went to school because his father died when he was a child and left my great-grandma with a bunch of kids and one of them was disabled. Everyone in that house had to work to survive. My grandpa learned how to read and write…

My dad would insist on reading us The Littlest Angel, and then he would cry Every. Single. Time.

My father would be proud of the greyfit that Justin Theroux is rocking.

yeah, good on you for pointing that out. lebanon has the moral high ground. the following are just the civilian casualties:

God I wish she’d won. I feel approximately 400 years older as a result of the current administration.

“Reines seems to have done a good job in this role, as Clinton is generally understood to have won all three debates, (not that it kept her opponent from the Oval Office, of course!)“

Scientology is super extremely not for me, but a quip (I forget whose) comes to mind on the difference between whackadoodle cults and mainstream religions: “In a cult, there’s one guy at the top who knows it’s all bullshit. In a religion, that guy is dead.”