I was glad to hear from him--it was the first time in over a week. A long, bad week. He typed out short sentences when we spoke. "Hard problem. Bright people working on it." "We heard the conflicting reports." I said. "Both wrong." He said. "Everyone's got an agenda."The best lesson my dad ever taught me was to be cynical. To be distrust what you hear. To stay on your toes when it came to the world. And to assume the worst in people--because most of the time you'd assume correctly. Or, of course, you might be surprised when you were wrong. But when does that happen?
This is something I feel very strongly about. So strong are my emotions about it, in fact, that I have haphazardly drafted this singular post about it on the fly. I hope, for your sake, that you are seated as I deal with this incredibly important social issue and say controversial things--the likes of which give women the vapors. Shorts. I fucking hate shorts. I hate them because you can't look cool in them. Think about it. Have you ever seen an action hero save the world wearing shorts? No. Action heroes wear pants. Men wear pants. People who save the world wear pants. Pants, pants, pants. Nobody wears shorts excepts, like, stoners, lazy guys, and dudes. And bros. Those archetypes do not do adventurous things. Indiana Jones? Pants. Robocop? Pants. Flapjack? Pants. Bear Grylls? Pants. Australian stereotypes? Shorts. Australia really likes to try to censor their internet content. That doesn't sound so awesome and/or manly to me. To prove my conclusion that shorts a
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