I’m working on a longer post about that whole SF State white guy dreadlocks thing at the moment, but it’s not quite where I want it to be, so this blog post is going to be about what I would consider to be the ultimate schedule. Or at least the ultimate schedule for me.
Pretty much all I want to do is read, write, exercise, and hang out with my wife. Not a bad way to spend a day. Things I don’t want to do include dishes, walking dogs, laundry, going into an office, cooking, and grocery shopping.
Last year I read a book about creative people’s schedules called Daily Rituals. It’s a pretty cool book if you like to geek out on productivity and creativity rituals. Many of my favorite writers worked early in the morning, but only for about three or four hours. Then they spent the rest of their day filling their brains with new information through reading and conversation. This makes a ton of sense to me.
The way I organize my day for copywriting is fairly similar. I try to do most of my actual writing closer to 9am and get as much quality work done as I can until 12:30pm. I often take lunch at my desk and read through various blogs and news sites relevant to whatever I’m working on. For the middle part of my day, I try to get through emails, follow up on anything that needed to be done after a meeting, do more copywriting on less taxing assets, and gather research for projects.
From about 1pm to 4pm I proof files, listen to radio ads, answer questions about projects, work through drive-by-requests, and whatever administrative work I might need to accomplish. Meetings are liberally peppered throughout the day, but have been relatively light lately. From 4-5pm I clear out my inbox, make my to-do-lists for the next morning and wrap up any projects I can. Usually I check in with my team to see if anyone needs anything and I bounce. My work days are usually jam packed.
When I get home I deal with our god awful dogs, eat with my wife, and work on this blog and any freelance projects I have. My freelance work has really picked up lately, so I usually try to block out time to do it on the weekend if it’s not on a tight deadline.
To wind down in the evening, I either read or watch movies. Sometimes I go down a YouTube or social media hole, often with less than excellent results.
The biggest thing missing from my current schedule is an exercise routine. For me, the best time to work out is early in the morning at like 6am. My favorite so far was when Mrs. Lott and I were doing yoga every morning before work. I felt great and I was totally done with exercise before most people even drag themselves out of bed. It didn’t hurt we could walk there.
I’d really like to get back into some sort of martial art, but not much of anything is offered before 9am and my neck is still pretty stiff from getting stacked at Jiu-Jitsu last year. I think Jiu-Jitsu is probably the best martial art to participate in because it works and the culture surrounding it is really fun. Yoga and Jiu-Jitsu are great together, but I’ve never been able to scrape together the money to do both at the same time. I guess I could do a yoga video or something, but I prefer to go to a studio. I also feel like at some point adding in weights would be good, but who has time for all that?
My ultimate schedule isn’t totally off from what I do now, which is pretty cool. The big difference, or the thing that would need to change is how I make money. Instead of going to my job (which I really enjoy) and doing freelance, I’d prefer to write books. Either funny pop culture stuff or genre fiction. As long as I was pulling down $100,000 a year, I don’t care which. So here’s the schedule, assuming I was writing books for a living.
5am: wake up, take the dogs out (I assume I’ll still have them and my wife will continue to be no help), have a cup of coffee head to workout.
6am: yoga or something
7:30am: breakfast, shower, etc. I think when you work at home, it’s good to get dressed
noon-1pm: lunch, phone calls, emails. Maybe extend this if I want to catch up with someone
1pm-5pm: read, research, edit
5-7pm: Jiu-Jitsu/Kickboxing/or some other physical activity
7-10pm: relax at home, chores, watch a movie, hang out with the wife, have friends over.
10pm: sleep in a completely blacked out room with no one else in it. I like cuddling and all, but I’m prone to insomnia and my wife tosses and turns all night, invariably waking me up at least five or six times a night.
Wakeup whenever, probably early.
Spend as much time outside as possible, trail running, riding bikes, etc.
Visit friends and do something cultural (museum, play, see a band)
Sleep, relax and recharge. Basically do as little as possible.
So that’s pretty much what a perfect schedule looks like. I read somewhere that if you write down your goals, you’re more likely to make them happen. Well, here it is: I want to write for a living and keep the schedule as described above.
Films of the late 80s ad early 90s were often wryly critical of advertising and the infernal powers that mobilized the talents of Madison Avenue’s warlocks. One of the best films to take aim at the industry was 1990’s Crazy People.
It’s about an advertising executive, played by Dudley Moore, who has a nervous breakdown and starts cranking out “truthful” ads like: like: “Jaguar— For men who’d like hand-jobs from beautiful women they hardly know.” and “Volvo— they’re boxy but they’re good.” (These are examples from the Wikipedia page, but they’re also the funniest).
While he’s in treatment for his mental problems, the ads get printed by mistake. The weird ads actually work well because they’re funny and completely transparent. They’re also very straightforward with the customer benefit. If I drive a Jaguar, I do want a hand job from a beautiful woman. Hell, I ride a bicycle and I want one right now.
You could run these ads today and no one would blink. Dollar Shave Club’s ad is a great example of a real world ad with this absurd approach. It’s funny and actually tells you a few reasons to buy their blades. They work. They’re cheap.
Other companies have tried this approach less successfully. Organic Valley’s Buy One Bro One campaign is kind of funny, but it doesn’t quite work as well because it doesn’t communicate a good reason to buy the product. If I’m a bro (and I sort of am) the only compelling piece of information conveyed is the protein count on the bottle, and compared to other products, it’s pretty average. The ad also show bros already successfully doing bro things. Bros really don’t care about weird chemicals. They care about gains. And according to the ad’s copy, those gains are going to be pretty weak.
If you’re not a bro, all this commercial does is let you think you’re superior to the bros in the commercial. But they clearly have shredded physiques and are shown having a good time. Would you rather be shredded and tapping ass in Vegas or thinking about a bucolic farm and how righteous you are for being skinny fat? No need to virtue signal here, this is a safe space.
People want to look hot and be rich. This is why ads that position a product against either of those goals will never work. It’s why it’s easy to sell workout supplements and Porsches. Just be honest with your ads. It’s what works. Just make sure your product promises six pack abs and you’re golden.
Bill Hicks used to have this joke about how the TV just screamed “WAR, DEATH, FAMINE, AIDS” over and over again, but if you looked outside your window, the sun was shining and everything felt pretty safe. That joke isn’t as funny anymore.
When I look outside I see broken glass, tent cities, crazy people screaming at each other, and cops rushing past. The dystopia has bled through the media’s simulacrum and tainted the every day.
The news is worse than ever. Did you know Pakistan and India, despite having the same delicious bread recipe, hate each other and have enough nukes to end life on this planet? Yesterday 65 people died in another terror attack. 35 died a few days before. There’s not enough time to change your profile pic to another country’s flag. I bet we could all use an app that just automatically uploads a flag filter of whatever spot is currently suffering the most severely. Peaceful religions, who needs ’em?
There was a homegrown terror cell just down the road in San Bernardino. Child trafficking happens all over the Bay Area. You can now be rejected by hundreds of potential suitors in record time thanks to dating apps. You can even lose your job for a bad joke on the internet. Good luck getting an interview if you don’t know anyone. And if you land the job, I hope you like being compensated in craft beer fridges and the frequently empty promise of profitable stock options.
Art used to offer some sort of refuge, but today’s creators spend more time crafting social media content and hawking tie-in merchandise on Instagram than they do making anything worthwhile. When’s the last time you bought an album that was good all the way through? I can name one or two (Run the Jewels 2 comes to mind), but it shouldn’t be that hard to come up with more. I can only imagine real artists are even more terrified about the future than the rest of us. Not only do they have to earn enough to avoid poverty, they have to do so at the expense of their creative integrity.
The best you can hope for these days is to insulate yourself from the chaos, to hide behind the gates of a nice suburb. Unfortunately, I’m aging in a career dominated by young people and don’t have enough cash for escape velocity. Things are great now, though I’d be a fool to have confidence in five years from now.
Every once in a while I look for job listings in war zones. My friend drove a fuel truck in Afghanistan for a few years and is now reasonably comfortable. That’s what it takes to get ahead if you don’t want to live as a criminal. You have to drive a giant vehicle full of explosive material through a wasteland. It feels safer than being a middle aged marketing guy.
In the past I’ve ranted like this and usually run across some plucky upbeat type who says I’m just negative. That I’m making my reality. That I’m stressing out for no reason. Well, I think there are plenty of good reasons to be freaked out these days. If you were able to lobotomize yourself with yoga classes and The Secret, I’m jealous. I can’t stop seeing the world as it is and it’s starting to seriously bum me out.
Happy Easter everyone. Hopefully you’re enjoying some manner of brunch with people you love. To you heathen atheists, congratulations on Bernie Sanders’ victory over the $hillary in a couple of states. The only state he usually does well in is the state of denial, so I guess you have something to celebrate other than the lord’s KO victory over death.
I got quite a few questions this week, so I’m saving some for next week. If you don’t see yours here, check back next Sunday. Here we go.
How do I go about un-friending someone in real life?
It depends on how close a friend this is and how wronged you were. If it’s an acquaintance, usually you can just stop inviting them to things and it’ll happen naturally. You’ll have to master the subtle art of pretending you don’t see them if you like to go to the same cafes and such.
If this person has done something to you or someone you care about, I recommend letting them know how you feel. If you’re non-confrontational, you can drop the bomb via text, but face-to-face is the boss way to cut ties.
A few years ago a friend of mine decided to “break up with me” because I was too negative. He was involved in some sort of corny men’s movement shit at the time. I’m pretty sure I was part of an assignment designed to insulate him from his real friends so the cult could further take over his mind. What a maroon.
But as fruity as this seemed at the time, I have to give him props. He was right and I actually did start thinking about my nihilistic outlook and how it was slowly killing me. If you care about someone, this is the way to go. If you’re just trying to cut someone you don’t really give a toss about, just let the relationship die on the vine.
How do I get rid of ants?
Go to a hardware store and buy Raid or a similarly lethal product and spray it wherever they’re having their sinister little parade. These tenacious bastards will laugh at any natural remedy Gwyneth Paltrow recommends; so don’t even bother with that shit. If you don’t have insect genocide in you, hire an exterminator.
A related issue: clean your house. Ants are drawn to nasty ass people. If you’re the type of slob to let huge chunks of donut crumble into your couch, you’re going to see these eight-legged sugar addicts marching into your domicile.
Would you ever give cheaters another chance?
I would, but there would have to be a considerable demonstration of penance. I’d also need to have the option to beat the shit out of whomever I was cheated on with. I’ve been cheated on twice and opted out of violence both times. I completely regret not throwing hands in both cases. I was a much skinnier, less trained version of myself back then.
You need to identify why the cheating occurred. You might not be responsible for the act itself, but you might’ve contributed to the ecosystem of infidelity. Were you emotionally unavailable? Are you having sex frequently enough? Have you let yourself become a much fatter, lazier, un-fuckable version of yourself? As it says in the good book (Matthew 7:5), “you hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”
You can come back from something like this and have a tremendously successful relationship, but the underlying cause of the cheating has to be addressed. Couples counseling is for sure a good option. Also, there should only ever be one “get out of cheater jail for free” card in the deck. If it happens again, you are done-diddly-done.
I’m rubber, you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off me, and sticks to you. – relevant in adult life?
This little rhyme has always been misguided. It implies an automatic deflection of criticism. The reality is if you want something to stick to someone else, you’re going to have to stick it to him or her with force. You also have to be able to absorb the emotional damage of the exchange like Rocky Balboa taking a beating in Rocky 5.
Donald Trump has mastered this art. He has been on the receiving end of an enormous amount of well-deserved criticism and name calling, but it has done nothing to him. He slips the jab, and counter punches with force. He’s the Lex Luthor of the internet.
The related “sticks and stones” rhyme is also incorrect. Words do harm. There’s an entire industry of PR professionals out there doing damage control for brands because trollish “journalists” can blog a company’s sales into the gutter.
You are not rubber. But you can harden the fuck up and deflect damage. You have to recognize the need to do so and cultivate toughness.
What do I need to know about his sex life?
You only need to know two things:
Does he have any STDs?
Does the plumbing work?
I know almost nothing about my wife’s sex life before me. As far as I know she was as pure as pre-John Mayer Taylor Swift before we met. I think she suspects I may have been up to no-good before we got together.
The best movie about this subject is Kevin Smith’s Chasing Amy. The main character gets involved with a sexually adventurous woman who mostly identifies as a lesbian. Things are going fine until this dude starts hearing stories about how much freaky ass she’s been getting over the years. His ego can’t hang and he tries to shame her.
She justifiably tells him to piss off, that her life before him has noting to do with her life with him. All that matters is how they love each other. He’s totally insecure and cooks up an idiotic scheme to have a threesome with her and his best friend so he can be a freak in the sheets too. It goes bad and the relationship ends.
He could’ve just been cool and enjoyed his life with a hot girl who knows her way around a dick, but instead, he lets some bullshit “desire to be Marco Polo” discovering that ass fuck things up.
On the subject of Chasing Amy, fuck Ben Affleck. That dude seems to be put on this Earth to destroy superhero franchises with his butt chin and absurdly powerful ability to summon the full and mighty force of Hollywood leftism.
I’ll give him this, though. He was funny as hell in Good Will Hunting. That and the fact he’ll still be in Kevin Smith’s B-movie universe for next to no pay means he’s loyal, and there’s a lot to be said for that. But fuck that guy anyways.
In short, what matters is that you have fun together and no one needs to see the doctor for a burning itch.
On the topic of books, what’s the best place to start reading on the topic of Metaphysics? Every suggested book looks like a super dry college course guide, is there anything a bit more modern or colloquial that’s worth a look?
Classical metaphysics is hard as hell to read. It’s all about getting to the root of what actually “is”, what we actually “know”, and how we even “know what is.” This branch of philosophy started in antiquity and carries on to this day, having passed through the unholy confusion of Continental philosophy.
Unless you’re really hell bent on doing philosophy professionally, you should probably spend more time with the thinkers who were in search of “how to live the best life.” The Stoics are a great place to start. They’ve become extremely popular among the chronic optimizer authors like Tim Ferris and Ryan Holiday because the writing is simple and the advice is actionable.
Real philosophy is well past them. You can basically skip everything between and go right to Nietzsche, though. He’s the philosopher with the most relevance to our lives now.
If you find yourself drawn to philosophy, but the writing is impenetrable, I recommend the Blackwell series of books. They do titles like X-Men and Philosophy and Terminator and Philosophy. They’re each anthologies of philosophical papers linked by a pop culture theme. They’re very relatable and written for casual audiences who may not have any background in the authors and thinkers being discussed.
Another great resource is the Partially Examined Life, a podcast by some guys who were going to become professional philosophers, but decided they’d rather do other things. They’re very funny and have an enormous amount of content produced.
When I’m starting a new philosophy book I always check to see if they’ve done an episode on it. I also go read whatever articles are available over at the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
Online Dating: the question is, how much of it is just plain time wasted? What’s the best way or best place to meet someone?
I got a lot of questions about online dating this week, but these two related questions pretty much cover what folks seemed to be curious about. I have no personal experience with this horrid technology. When I was single, you had to meet people face to face and let your game do the work. So keep that in mind as you read this.
I don’t know a single person who enjoys online dating. It seems to always cause stress and produce poor results. I suspect this is because the apps/websites are created by awkward dorks that don’t know anything about relationships. Think of it this way: who would design a better shovel, someone who digs graves for a living or a nerd who’s never even dug a hole in his yard as a kid?
These services reduce humans to statistics and that’s just artificial. My wife and I would never have met online. The algorithm would’ve picked up on my lack of financial security, average height and hatred of Morrissey. Those things may as well be a gimp leg marking me unfit for reproduction.
I think the best way to meet someone is to throw yourself into activities you like and not worry too much about meeting someone. The happiest couples I know met face-to-face at places they both enjoy. Real life provides a natural filter that works better than any arbitrary coding some autistic nerd came up with.
My dad, who lives across the country, is a super right-wing kind of guy who loves his fox news and Rush Limbaugh and I’m grasping at hope that Bernie can pull through this fall… i can’t seem to have a conversation with him where this doesn’t come up, and we always end up with a few bitter words back and forth about how wrong the other is, ultimately making our weekly phone calls a little awkward. what’s the best way to keep the peace?
First of all, don’t vote for Bernie Sanders. That dude is not going to save you. His policies are never going to make it through and if they did, your taxes are going to go up unless your career involves asking if someone would like their meal supersized. Fuck him and that bird.
Second of all, you aren’t going to change an old coot’s mind. In Freemasonry there’s a rule that politics and religion can’t be discussed in meetings. For the most part, those subjects are avoided when they meet socially as well. The result? Everyone gets along really well.
I suggest avoiding the conversation entirely. Just talk about the weather or how good the new Daredevil series on Netflix is.
I just finished reading Alex Abramovich’s new book about West Oakland and the East Bay Rats Motorcycle Club, Bullies: A Friendship. Years ago I read and enjoyed his article about the same subject in GQ. I’d say you can simply read the article and skip the book unless you were really compelled to know a little more about West Oakland in the mid to late 2000s
The book is essentially an extended cut of the article, with a lot more detail added, and a subplot about the excommunication of a member who might be responsible for the death of another Rat. The book also explores the criminal case involving Your Black Muslim Bakery and the rise of Occupy Oakland.
Immersion journalism about motorcycle clubs is always going to be compared to Hunter S. Thompson’s classic Hell’s Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga. I wouldn’t want to be compared with an all time great like Thompson, but I also didn’t write a book about a Bay Area motorcycle gang that attempts to offer commentary on the social and political history of a beleaguered city. So here we go.
Abramovich’s Rats are not nearly as anarchic or criminal as Thompson’s Hells Angels. The social unrest serving as their backdrop isn’t as interesting as what took place in the 60s. The choppy way he joins their tale to the story of Your Black Muslim Bakery and Occupy Oakland isn’t satisfying. He’s trying to set up something bigger, but never quite pulls it together. Other than temporal and geographic proximity, why are these things important to triangulate? The book falls short.
Thompson made an argument that the Hells Angels were a natural response to the issues of war, masculinity, poverty, and the American dream’s slow disintegration. Abramovich is basically just telling stories about his friend and the four years he lived in the city.
Here’s the thing: in a world with brutal fights on television and gangs of hood rat motorcycle kids pulling the craziest/awesomest stunts you’ve ever seen on YouTube, who really cares about this story? This isn’t a dig at the Rats at all, the world is just more intense now than it was a few years ago. That’s an observation that could’ve been explored. Another missed opportunity is discussing Jack London’s Oakland. He was a writer who lived a rough and tumble life not far from where the Rats were blowing things up.
The book feels like three different articles unnecessarily expanded and stitched together. Where Thompson used the Hells Angels as a lens to view and critique the culture, Abramovich simply recounts events. He never makes the reader care about the Rats or understand why we should care about what happens to West Oakland.
He mentions the recycling center and the crackheads who the Rats frequently abuse, but not anything deeper about the issues surrounding it. Every time I thought he was going to go into some depth, he doesn’t.
Abramovich’s most consequential observation is that West Oakland is changing because of an incursion of gentrifiers. But he doesn’t seem to consider himself part of that problem. The dude is a white, college educated professional writer from the East Coast. He’s basically the first wave of the upscale occupying force that I’m a part of. I’ve probably fought more than he has, definitely rode harder, and managed to buy a home in the area he had to leave by learning to live on less than I make. But I guess people like me are the assholes.
There’s a scene in Hell’s Angels where the biker gang goes down to a protest. The hippies think they’re there to save them from the cops, but they turn on the hippies and fuck them up while the cops look on. Thompson uses this story to great effect to explain the character of the club.
In Bullies, Trevor, the main protagonist of the story patrols Occupy Oakland because he’s “into the violence” but the Rats, many of whom are ex-military, present the cops with an American flag to replace the one protesters destroyed. There’s no explanation. Comparing these two stories could’ve added so much to the book.
Thompson was famously missing an end for his book, so he picked a fight with one of the Hells Angels, got his ass beat, and the rest is history. Abramovich started this journey looking for a fight, but ended up with a friend. That’s beautiful, but it doesn’t make for a good story.
I just finished listening to an absolutely tremendous episode of one of my favorite podcasts, The Federalist. My buddy Gene turned me onto this show and I’m glad he did. I really like listening to smart people with diverse opinions and this is one of the best conservative/Constitutionalist podcasts out there. It’s smart and completely unlike the type of moronic shit you’ll get from Fox or Glen Beck.
This particular episode is an extended interview with a computer science professor named Cal Newport. His recent book, Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World, is about the need to develop the practice of prolonged concentration. His thesis is essentially that anyone who needs to produce excellent work with their mind should develop a personal system to diminish distraction. The biggest threat to this kind of mind space is the hindering plague of social media.
If you’re reading this near the time it’s published, you’re probably friends with me on Facebook, so you know how hooked I am on posting puns and shitting all over Bernie Sanders. If you’re reading this far into the future, that might mean that I’ve achieved some fame for my writing. Let’s hope that’s the case.
Either way, I’ve really been online a lot because my move to West Oakland has taken me away from seeing a lot of my friends face-to-face and I’ve been happily busy with a lot of freelance work and haven’t had much free time to dick around with my cronies. Facebook has been a great tool for me to hear what’s up with my favorite primates. But I’ve noticed a strong uptick in my anxiety, a decrease in my attention span, and a general irritation with myself for not reading as much.
Newport makes a strong case for deep work and concentration being an in demand skill set that will make knowledge workers more competitive as we move into a future where we will have to work smarter, faster, and better than our peers to succeed. There will be no room in the future for the meritless and the quickest way to join the ranks of burger flippers and low-wage marketing drones is to tune your mind to shallow thought.
To achieve skill and craft, you have to focus. This is why Nate Diaz is great. It’s why Stephen King crushes it. They do their thing like there’s nothing else in the world worth doing.
As of this paragraph, I’ve checked Instagram twice and Facebook once. I’m a god damned addict. And it’s making me suck at life. I’ve sort of fallen into a nefarious trap. I write online, therefore I think posting online and chiming in on the day’s nonsense is going to somehow make my life better or speed up my career. This is so unbelievably wrong I’m going to take a moment here and slap myself in the face for being so idiotic.
Shit. I just knocked one of my contacts into the back of my eye. Hold on.
I’m never happier or more centered than on a day when I’ve done three things: worked out, read for a few hours, and written at least a page or two. Thanks to the daily writing challenge I get at least a third done, but last I checked, 33% is an F.
Today I spent the day on a lovely lamb ranch for a work project. There was no cell phone reception or internet and I had great conversations and a ton of ideas about projects that are coming down the pipe. This affirms everything Newport spoke about on the show.
So now what?
Well, I’m going to try and give myself some windows of time where I go free of connection to the world wide derp machine. I want to start with an hour, the thirty minutes when I get up and the thirty minutes I go to sleep. I know this sounds like peanuts, but this is how you break habits and build patterns of good behavior.
Tell someone you’re uneasy with Muslim Jihadists and you’ll hear about the Inquisition or Catholic pedophiles. Blame it all on religion and you’re inviting an ear beating about Hitler and Mao, apparently they were part of the New Atheism before it began.
You always hear how everything in America was hunky-dory until 1492. Except it wasn’t. There were tribal wars all across the continent and human sacrifices headlined at Aztec pyramids for centuries. Columbus was an all time great dickhead. Yet we still have a holiday named after his ass, even though he’s probably roasting in hell for what he did.
There are more slaves in the world now than there were in America before the Civil War. A lot of them are working at massage parlors, but comedians who’d be too scared to make a race comment still make rub & tug jokes.
All these religious fetishes and political positions are excuses for humans to get back to the murderous savagery they were evolved to perpetrate. Every culture murders when it can. You’re either behind the trigger or your hands are up. History is full of reversals, so you should probably just walk away. If not, make sure your aim is true and go after all the first-born male heirs. You can’t be too careful. It’s how chimpanzees, our closest relatives, rock it. Or maybe that was the Mongols. I can’t remember which.
The thing is we’re all connected. We have loyalties and hostilities that overlap like hateful Venn diagrams. If I’m a Giants fan who went to Stanford, should I hate that Dodgers fan as much because they went there too? What if he’s a Giant’s fan that went to Cal? What if we both like Indian food? What if he’s a Palestinian and I’m a Jew? What if our wives are friends?
America is going through it on a macro scale. We have an old coot that wants to take your money so some losers can go to college for free, a criminal career politician who no one really likes, and a buffoonish billionaire who has zero conservative credentials and will likely crack open the Seventh Seal and send us all into the gaping maw of whatever Ancient Evil awaits our species.
These assholes don’t really represent anyone I know, but everyone has chosen a side. You may as well punch your neighbor in the dick over whether or not Iron Man is better than Captain America.
You see the best solidarity when people are up against the wall. Recall Full Metal Jacket. Those Marines called each other every kind of triggering name in the book. The real dudes they were based on did the same and had each other’s backs. We should all be able to get behind icing those twelfth century douchebags in ISIS, but apparently that’s too much to ask. The imbeciles currently setting their money on fire at liberal arts colleges all across America might get upset at the cultural insensitivity or some other nonsense Chomsky said.
Here’s my advice. Be cool and don’t focus on the differences. Affirm the similarities. Everyone loves pizza and everyone hates Comcast. Let’s start there and build a new world.