-
When someone—in this case my brother—knows you’re one of the only people who’ll get a reference.
(‘Casino’ here doesn’t mean gambling—it was an anachronistic New England-y use of the word for a clubhouse in a summer colony. This is the one he means, long before we knew it, before it was surrounded by tall trees and clad with dark, weathered shingles. The scent? Old, wood, and slightly salt-air musty.)
-
I hate Donald J Trump with the passion of a thousand burning suns. But if it served my interests, I could make him believe I was a trusted ally in five minutes flat.
So could you. So could anyone. That simpleton is that easy to play.
-
Always sort of terrifying when you know our dummy of a president—with his ship-of-fools staff—is in the process of getting deftly outmaneuvered by the Chinese state while believing he’s the [pick any superlative, they all apply in his mind] putting them in their place.
-
The most random memory of waiting in an interminable Storybook line at Disneyland behind a guy wearing a t-shirt with a Bored Ape image on it.
We assumed he was showing off his own NFT, which was funny—needing analogue to brag about digital.
(I just looked up current values—he’s probably not still bragging about it haha.)
-
Things are getting so much worse and so steadily that Reagan’s famous line can be used against Trump with any timeframe:
Are you better off than you were a year ago? A month ago? A day ago? A minute ago?