If You Can’t Beat ‘Em, Delegitimize ‘Em

For decades, our country’s love of football has crossed political, socioeconomic, and generational lines.

And by “football,” I mean the game played on a gridiron with a prolate spheroid inflated leather ball. The athletic contest that requires gladiatorial equipment to protect the players from gruesome injuries. The sport where the players incur gruesome injuries anyway when they’re hit by people in gladiatorial equipment. The spectacle that’s played in North America and literally nowhere else…except of course when we trot it overseas to play in front of wide-eyed people with no earthly clue as to what is happening on the field. The game George Will once perfectly described as “violence punctuated by committee meetings.” Continue reading

Bad Stuff Is Probably Happening Somewhere

Bad stuff happens everywhere. I don’t mean “bad stuff” like getting in a fender bender. Or even really bad stuff like your Internet crapping out in the middle of streaming your seventh consecutive episode of This Is How To Get Away With A Million Little Scandals With The Stars: Miami.

No, I’m talking about Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse-level bad stuff. Continue reading

What’s Your End Game?

What happens when you don’t get your way? When you get mad, and then act upon that anger, what is your goal? What would make you happy again, or at least not mad anymore? What is your end game?

Let’s say you go out to dinner. The experience is sub par, and you feel strongly that you didn’t get your money’s worth of food or service. So, on your way home, you whip out your phone and fire off a scathing Yelp review. You disparage the restaurant and its staff for the rest of the universe to see. That’ll teach ‘em!

But what’s your end game? Continue reading

Time To Grow Up, Boys

I’m noticing a lot of surface-level, clichéd “masculinity” being bandied about lately.

Maybe our current polarizing political climate is to blame. Perhaps it’s just because I’ve been more attuned to it recently.

Or maybe it’s because “everyone these days are weak little momma’s boys who need a swift steel-toed work boot to the rear end,” according to one angry dude’s comment on my Twitter feed.

 Whatever it is, it’s time for real men to defend real masculinity against those who would seek to define it by its most stereotypical tropes. And we shall defend it with BRUTE FORCE! *adjusts crotch and spits on the ground.

Damn, no, scratch that. Sorry. Continue reading

6 Lies About Immigrants Trump Hopes You Believe

As a native citizen of this great land, I’m entitled to certain inalienable rights. Everyone’s saying I was endowed with those rights by my Creator. It’s tremendous. Just fantastic, really.

While I have more Native American DNA than most US Senators, I’m only “native” to this land by virtue of the fact that I was born here. There is no doubt as to my citizenship status: I was born at a very young age in Houston, Texas, USA, in 1976, to two native-born American citizens. Continue reading