This Once-Apt Phrase Has Fallen Into Disrepair — There was a time, not so long ago, when we could band together and lessen overall levels of selfish repulsiveness. In this bygone era, which sadly many of you have never known, each of us was a member of what is [now quaintly] called a “society.” Which is where a…

When I was a lad, there was to my knowledge only one deodorant claiming to last 24 hours — Mitchum, whose flatfooted, un-evocative name hinted that “Your stink, buddy? This is a medical type of issue. Regular consumer-grade products are not adequate to deal with your pit situation.” Now, given…

Hard to Let Shit Go When Your Middle Name is Deathgrip — How Rachel Ray would say BOTH “E.V.O.O.” AND “Extra Virgin Olive Oil.” Every. Fucking. Time. The Sofia Coppolla death scene in Godfather III. That annual Presidential Fitness Awards thing that lent 80s credence to already entrenched social Darwinist categories of Jocks Who Are Awesome and Chunky Loser Idiots. The films…

There’s Not Always a Word For It In English — Manslaughter deferred. Bookish loner jostle-mashed against window on seven-hour bus ride thrumming with sing-along theater kids. Who grow more shrill and overstimulated with every passing mile. Six and a half hours to go. Self medicated. Self mentholated. Forgotten rocker Spinal Tapping to sparse, diffident crowds at state fairs and lesser…

As graduation season draws to a close, I thought I’d share the incisive life advice that one recent grad called “sage-ass.” As a learned man of no small eminence, I am beset by gilded invitations to come swelter on a dais under a noonday sun wearing a shapeless polystyrene dress…

The Secrets of Your Fate? Suspended in That Last Skunky Swig of Backwash. Set on the Fender of an Oldsmobile Cutlass. — Schlitz. Your old man had simple tastes — a pot roast, a Sunday pew toward the back that’d let him hustle the family out so he could catch the last half of the Steelers game, a well-sharpened buck knife. I mean look who he married — don’t get me wrong…

Clear and Present Retail Danger: Personality-Warping Earworms. All. Day. Long. — Recently started working in retail for the first time in a very, very, verrrrry long time. The scrupulously inoffensive and upbeat music you as a shopper experience as dimly noted background or at most a short-lived nostalgia-jolt where you’ll nudge your spouse and point up at the song filling the…

If the WGA Strike Goes on Long Enough, the Plundering Shitheels Who Create Nothing and Make All the Money Will Desperately Hope These Sentiments Catch On — OMG, the set dressers on Chemo or Placebo? really keep me guessing. THAT’s why I tune in each week. Man, I bet those P.A.s on Shaming Your Shitty Parenting show a lotta hustle. THAT’s what keeps me coming back. Tell you what: them editors that cut together all the stock-footage…

If All These Goddamn Grade Schoolers and Churchgoers and Mall Shoppers Would Stop Placing Themselves in Our Bullets’ Path Like a Big Bunch of Idiots, We’d Feel Ever So Much Better About Everything — Enshrined in [My Skewed, Bad-Faith Interpretation of] The Constitution is my [Preposterous, Indefensible] Inalienable Right to never, ever be apart from my Gun. My Gun which, like a Corporation, rightly enjoys all the benefits of citizenship but, like a frat bro date rapist appointed to a lifetime position of great…