Mile Nerd

The Way We Were

Dear Young Readers:

This one’s for you.

It recently occurred to me that this is the only world you’ve ever known. “Your world” is one in which recessions come around every few years, nobody likes anything, and pandemics turn life upside down. Wow…so you’ve never lived in an amazing time, huh?

I honestly feel for you.

Your era kind of sucks.

Ok, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m taking you on a trip back to the 1980s. That’s when I grew up and it was a very special time. Nothing was strange about it at all. And maybe experiencing a taste of a normal decade will help you navigate these tough times.

Relax and enjoy this trip back to a simpler time…

Long before nonstop selfies entered the world, we used to pose for pictures the old fashioned way – like it was a special event. Film was expensive in those days. It was critical to always give our most impressive pose. So, as you can imagine, we all became quite good in front of a camera.

Mastering solo pictures was a great skill to develop, but the ‘80s was a time when love could really shine. We eagerly shared the lens with a new flame whenever romance entered our lives. And those photo shoots had a tendency to get pretty steamy.

Long before the current technological boom, our world was already starting to change at lightning speed. The ‘80s brought on the dawn of the video game era. And it was impossible to find a child or adult who could walk away from a screen this captivating:

Speaking of screens, there was no shortage of entertainment options available on television. And boy did we love to laugh in those days. Particularly at comedies set in the Korean War. I often wondered…is there anything more amusing than a wartime sitcom?

Well, maybe one thing…
Clearly, writers were striving for new heights in the ‘80s. And they finally reached the peak of their storytelling mountaintop with a show about a furry space alien living in the suburbs. We sat on the edge of our seats each week to see if that quirky alien would finally eat the family cat.

No, I’m not sure how cats became a delicacy on other planets. And…no…I don’t remember why the space alien had a Brooklyn accent. But, back then, we didn’t feel the need to ask such questions. We just lived.

For some unknown reason (likely an issue with the machinery of the time), we were never able to find clothing that fit properly in the ‘80s. Every outfit was either a few sizes too small or made to fit a linebacker. Thankfully, we were expert problem-solvers back then. We simply introduced a distracting amount of pastels and fluorescents into our wardrobes. After that, nobody even noticed that everything we owned was ill-fitting.

The one material that did come properly-sized was denim. And, as you probably already know, we believed in dressing for success in the ‘80s. So we had a very strict rule when it came to denim – wearing as much of it on our bodies as possible at any given moment.

Recently, I heard someone from your generation refer to the hottest fads of the ‘80s as being, “Random as shit.” Frankly, that’s a bit harsh. And it’s also very inaccurate. We were ahead of the curve. While previous generations set unrealistic standards for beauty, our most popular doll looked like a middle-aged DMV worker from Ohio.

Guys, it was a more innocent time. The air was fresh…the streets were clean…and we had no reason to find it unusual that grown men were hanging out in parking lots with high school students after midnight.

Back then, we didn’t spend our days worrying. We respected simplicity. While your generation would likely panic about the widespread addiction to drugs that was overwhelming our streets…we didn’t sweat the small stuff. We knew it could all be solved if we just smiled and said, “No.”

Fitness was a major priority in our lives. Have you noticed that people were much skinnier in those days? Well, that’s why we tend to scoff at your vegan, gluten-free whatever you call it. We’ve already mastered physical fitness. Just look at any picture from that era. See that cloud of cigarette smoke floating around us constantly throughout the entire decade? It’s because we didn’t wage war against smoking. In fact, we encouraged it at restaurants and even on airplanes. You know what else happened inside our constant cloud of smoke? Less obesity.

Sure, I guess your precious cell phones can be helpful. Without them, we did always wander around in a state of confusion for a few minutes whenever meeting friends anywhere. And asking strangers for directions was just a regular part of our day. But the flip side is that we learned how to interact with (and trust) our fellow man. We didn’t need “Uber” to find us a ride from a stranger. We just threw our thumbs in the air and almost always survived the journey.

Youngsters today seem to think they invented words like “gender fluid” and “androgynous.” Well perhaps you’ve never heard of a certain word that we invented. A little something called, “Rock & Roll.” See, we had very open minds in the ‘80s. When we attended concerts, we never even had a clue what gender the lead singer was.

The ’80s were a big celebration of life. And when today’s world starts to be too much, just remember that you will always be an honorary member of the club. As long as you have one of these:

The Anti-Masker’s Rap

It was late (after midnight) just a few months ago.

My face was deep in ice cream like a fat Russell Crowe.

I heard a crash and some bangs from the porch outside.

So I picked up my bat and grabbed some cyanide.

Searched up and down all around for a burglar or a crook.

Can’t tell a lie, I was feelin’ pretty shook.

But I couldn’t find a thing…just a note left on my door.

It was signed by virus Rona (she was so eager to bore).

Throughout the next 4 months she’s been fillin’ you with doom.

But what about yours truly? Just sittin’ jailed in my room.

Every bar is empty, nothing open but the store.

Plus I’m super horny now (without strip clubs to score).

Damn these days are dullsville when I ain’t got shit to do.

How the hell are all you sheeple so allergic to the flu?

Now my outings are to Kroger (I’m there every afternoon).

Just checked my online statement, shopped there 30 days in June.

Ladies stare in my direction like, “WEAR A MASK YOU BIG DISGRACE!”

It’s so easy to ignore them with those coverings on their face.

Protecting other people – is what you say masks are about.

Even average-looking strippers (who I’m desperate to take out).

See, my life is crazy boring and I hate this new hairdo.

Yet somehow you’re still expecting my concern to be for you?

It seems like you’re not hearing that I just won’t wear that thing.

Not even for a lap dance and a badly needed schwing.

I know that you dislike it when I cause you great dismay.

But there’s a word for that, old timer…the American way.

By now it’s crystal clear that you don’t get how this place works.

It’s all about my freedoms (oh yes, even when that irks).

I will broadcast all my rights to you at every single turn.

When it comes to other humans…not my problem if they burn.

I refuse to look at data from your doctors and your nerds.

They might put me in a coma with their 14-letter words.

There’s a reason I like scumbags (and the types who act so bad)…

I’m impervious to logic cuz all I really am is mad.

My anger is what drives me, oh it’s what I feel the most.

Sure, I take it out on all of you…the world’s my whipping post.

Your brain still wants to feel that this is just about a mask.

(Since you refuse to understand that monumental ask)

The belief is I don’t wear it because I don’t care for you.

Now it’s time to pay attention to the major fucking clue.

There is something that you people just can’t ever seem to see.

How could I care about any of you…

…when who I hate the most is me.

On The Doorstep

I get it.

You have things that are off limits, right? Certain subjects that you won’t discuss? Well…as is fairly obvious by now…I’m a weirdo. One who never got built that way. For better or worse, my life is anything but Fort Knox. My past is a VERY open book.

(Probably way too open at times)

Where did this strange medical disorder come from? Again, no need for any mystery about it. My parents struggled in big ways to express themselves. And it caused a great deal of pain in their lives. That never made sense. Why wouldn’t they just open up? Why couldn’t they ever really talk?

So, naturally, my brain short-circuited.

I opened all the way up and the faucets never turned off.

At this point, it’s like Niagara Falls up in here.

But everyone has a hidden vault in their heart, right? A place where the most personal stuff gets stored. The difference is that I don’t have a long list of items in mine. Just one deep, dark secret. How do I put this? There’s only one skeleton that I’ve kept locked up in the closet.

So I did what people do.

I threw away the key.  

Well, everything in our world seems to be in flux these days. So I’ve decided to free my one secret. And I just admitted that I’m a weirdo…so, for me, this means sharing my skeleton with thousands of strangers on the internet. Whatever. I’m supposed to be an open book. So here it goes…

When I was a college freshman, I fathered a child.

It’s something I never talk about.

Ever.

If someone asks whether I have kids, the answer is always no.

(Followed by some lame joke)

See, I never raised my little girl. In fact, her mother and I never even had a real date. I was a skinny nerd who hadn’t yet grown into his impressive nose…but, on one random Saturday night, a stunning blonde at a party wanted to spend the night with me.

Who was I to say no?

As I recall…walking up the stairs with her was the most exciting moment of my life up to that point. One that was followed by an even better 93 seconds in the bedroom. But that was the only time I saw Stephanie. Sure, I would have loved to have been her boyfriend. Come on, I was the king of awkwardness. I would have been thrilled just to eat pancakes with her the next morning.

Instead, I stumbled out of bed alone with two things…a terrible hangover and a smile on my face. I understood. She was long gone. And almost certainly looked at me as a drunken mistake. Well, obviously. I was Don Juan in my head but probably more like Don Knotts between the sheets.

I went to class…eventually finished out that year of school…graduated…and moved on to adult life.

No human has ever properly articulated just how quickly the years will pass in our lives. Somehow, time actually speeds up with each birthday. It accelerates. Such a crazy thing. Before I knew it, almost 2 decades had flown by. I was a jaded 37-year-old who’d eaten way too many pancakes by himself.

One morning, the doorbell rang and I saw a pretty young woman looking up at me nervously. Maybe a college freshman like I’d been all those years ago. But what the hell was she doing on my porch? The blonde-haired stranger mumbled something that I can’t remember. And then exploded my entire universe by whispering:

“I’m not sure how to say this but I think you’re my dad.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

After picking my brain off the floor, I invited Sophia into the kitchen. I don’t think my eyes blinked for the next hour. She explained that she’d just turned 18 and had moved alone to the city. She said she’d wanted to meet me her entire life. Her mother struggled to open up about difficult topics. Much like my parents. And, clearly, I was one of those topics.

Sophia showed up just wanting to talk. Wanting me to see her. To accept her.

I’ve done a number of things that I’m proud of in my life. But none on that day. What can I say? Humans are a mess. I was confused by the whole damn thing. So I stared at her like a blank fool. She said she’d be in town for a few months and would love to meet up occasionally for coffee or lunch. She was a gentle, soft-spoken person. One who seemed to have a lot of sadness behind her eyes. Maybe I should have asked about that but, as a blank fool, I just nodded a lot. And stared.

She had a beauty mark on her forehead. Basically a tiny little dot. And, for some reason, she was very self-conscious about it. Her bangs seemed to be an attempt to keep it covered. She touched it a lot. And was almost continuously aware of the thing. Probably would have made sense if it were a giant scar or something. But, man, it was so small. I remember finding that behavior so unusual. I have bigger marks and freckles all over the place that I never think about. But she seemed obsessed with hers.

To put it very bluntly, I didn’t acknowledge that she was mine. And, yes, I’d like to be able to say I handled it better. But I had a life. One that was full of responsibilities and endless challenges. I didn’t expect this situation to show up on my doorstep. And I just didn’t have room for it.

(I know how this sounds…but it’s the reality of that moment)

We met for coffee a few times. And I basically just kept nodding and staring. I noticed Sophia didn’t look like me. She didn’t sound like me. And she certainly didn’t act like me. She was just completely…different…than I am. And what I found most confusing was the whole beauty mark thing. For fuck’s sake, it really was just a tiny little dot. Who cares? But the girl wouldn’t stop obsessing about it. I look back now and can’t remember many moments when she didn’t seem noticeably self-conscious about it. Aware of it. About a TINY little dot.

One afternoon, I finally said something.  

We were sitting outside a Starbucks drinking coffee. She really was a beautiful young woman. Intelligent, articulate, and very kind-hearted. But she was so damn obsessed about this one little thing. It was driving me nuts. So I suddenly blurted out, “It’s just a tiny little beauty mark. Why are you always so focused on it?”

Almost immediately, she started to cry.

Fuck.

Not just a few tears. Nah, this was the kind of primal sobbing that makes you feel concerned. My entire body tensed up. There was deep pain coming out of her.

For this? A beauty mark?

I started feeling embarrassed and looked around to see if anyone else was watching. But this is a big city. Nobody even blinked. After a few minutes, Sophia stopped crying. She wiped her eyes and started to speak…

The special person sitting in front of me opened up her heart that day.

What I realized over the next few minutes would change my life forever.

From the first day in my kitchen, I’d dismissed her concern about something so insignificant. I knew there was so much more to her than the thing on her face. I KNEW for certain that a little dot was absolutely nothing. But as she started speaking softly through her tears, I finally got it. And I suddenly saw it so clearly…

It was just a tiny beauty mark to ME.

But it wasn’t my mark.

See, we’re all brainwashed from the moment we’re born. Literally. Sure, we pop out as a blank slate. But we start recording on Day 1. And we don’t stop. We each get programmed by our own experiences. And, by the time we’re grown, our heads are locked in concrete.

A beauty mark had never impacted my life, so my eyes could only see a “little dot.”

Sophia allowed me to look beyond my concrete head.

She told me about her very first memory. Of how excited she was to start kindergarten. Picking out her favorite outfit, doing her hair just so, and literally skipping into the classroom with a giant smile on her face. The teasing started within the first hour. And continued to the point that she was terrified to go back. That was the last day Sophia remembered feeling normal. Over the next decade, encounters about her “little dot” became a regular part of life. A “tiny” thing had touched every one of her days. It impacted her relationships, her happiness, and her self-esteem. It’s an ongoing battle that she tries to fight. But when Sophia looks in the mirror, it’s the first thing she sees in the reflection – that she is different.

To her, there is nothing “little” about the birthmark on her face.

For Sophia, simple trips to the market have long been stressful events. People looked at her as “different” for so long that she eventually started seeing herself that way. It became part of her identity. I was so busy KNOWING that she shouldn’t be preoccupied with “one little thing” that I never paid attention to what was happening right in front of me. I just assumed that my world was her world too.

We humans are incredible machines. But we’re built with a big design flaw – we are astoundingly stubborn. And it fucks us up all the time. We struggle to see beyond or own reality. Our world becomes the world. We spend big chunks of our lives resisting and defending. Threats on our programming are attacks on what we know to be true.

Fun fact:
The first year of an actor’s training is often just attempting to quiet your brain from thinking “I would never do that” when reading a scene.

And now an honest question for you:
Would you be the same person if you grew up with very different experiences?

Because the resistance in your head to that concept is my point.

We are programmed to stubbornly defend.  

The story about Sophia is made up. I never had a daughter. I never even hooked up with the hot blonde (unfortunately). I know, I know. But with all the noise we’re facing, I really needed to land this in a personal way with you…

All of us need to be seen. Heard. Accepted.

If all we know how to do is throw gas on our fires, there’s just one ending for us. We’re all going to burn. Sometimes things will show up on our doorstep that we didn’t plan for. And we won’t have room left in our lives or in our hearts. We won’t “get” how a person can be so obsessed with what we see as a little dot. We will be completely blinded by the concrete of our own heads.

But what if you’re an exception?

What if you can somehow work around your design flaw?

Maybe you’ll be able to really see an individual who is completely different.

Someone who doesn’t look, sound, or act like you.

And maybe we can all stop being so damn closed off.

Or maybe that’s just another made-up story and we’re destined to burn.

I guess we’ll see.

Quarantine Life

Why is it so hard for us to be vulnerable? Countless walls. All these defenses. Well, I’ve had enough of it. I’m going to write an honest, unfiltered diary during this crazy stay-at-home time. And I’m peeling back the curtain to share it with you. To really let you in. Follow along if you want a totally open glimpse into my life. All we can do is take this day by day. So let’s get started…

March 12^th
Dear Diary:
It seems like everyone I know is stressing about staying at home. Why? This quarantine is a golden opportunity to become more disciplined. As long as it lasts, I vow to eat healthy, keep my mood bright, discover new hobbies, and (hopefully) become a better man. This is a reset button. I’m going to use it.

March 15^th
Dear Diary:
Had my first Zoom call for work and it was incredible. So fun! What can I say…today was easy. Drank a green smoothie, lifted weights, and still have 55 rolls of toilet paper tucked safely away in the closet. Honestly, this is a breeze. I look in the mirror now and see a focused, disciplined machine.

P.S. Will I become the Michael Jordan of self-quarantining? Don’t bet against it.  

March 19^th
Jumped on Zoom again for work this morning. Sort of a stressful start to the day as I remembered I didn’t put pants on for the call – whoops! Casual Friday I guess. Thankfully, nobody noticed.
Also had a small dietary slip-up after dinner when I ate half an Oreo cookie. Stay strong, big guy…those are only for weekend cheat days. Gonna bounce back huge tomorrow. But so far, so awesome!

P.S. I’m planning to learn a new language soon – should be fluent within a few weeks.

March 21^st
Wait…did the entire day pass by without me showering? That’s a bit unusual. Guess time kind of slipped away from me after the mailbox interaction this morning. Was totally minding my own business…just checking the mail…when nosy neighbor Jared rolled his eyes at me. Gave a dirty look. Um, since when am I required to wear pants on my own damn porch? Last I checked, this isn’t a fashion show in Milan.

Had to indulge in a beer and a couple of Oreos to calm myself down. It’s fine.

P.S. Nobody likes a busybody, Jared.

March 24^th
Been a bit of a challenge to get back on track. Apparently I offended my boss on Zoom this morning by “bragging” that I haven’t worn pants all week. Whatever. It was just small talk. But maybe I shouldn’t have called him a Zoom Nazi. Never seen someone turn that shade of red.   

Things are gonna be ok. Ate 7 Oreos to calm myself down. It’s all good. Just need to lose a few pounds, shed some bad habits, and get back to disciplined beast mode.

March 27^th
Been running low on food. And also discipline. It’s just everywhere I turn, the fridge is around the corner. Can’t stay away from that shiny, rectangular box of deliciousness. Really should get in the car and go somewhere. Just not today. Been watching something called cornhole on ESPN2 since I woke up. Riveting stuff. How was I unaware that this is a televised sport?

Also, is today Wednesday?

March 28^th
Turns out yesterday was Saturday. Weird. And apparently it’s still March. The cornhole announcer just mentioned it during today’s telecast. Those guys were debating where they’d want to eat if restaurants were still open. For me, it’s an obvious choice – definitely Applebee’s. Never actually been to one, but they’re the main sponsor of the cornhole league. And the food looks really impressive. Certainly hoping to dive into their mozzarella sticks one day soon. But it’s tough to go anywhere right now. Mostly because I don’t know where my pants are. There’s no mozzarella in the house, so I’ve just been eating blocks of cheddar cheese.

April 3^rd
As a responsible citizen, I don’t leave the house without putting a mask on. Well, I hadn’t actually gone anywhere yet. Until today, that is. Just needed to prepare my outfit. Spent a few hours, did some sewing, and success! No skin exposure other than my left eyeball. But as soon as I walked into the grocery store, a so-called “sweet” elderly woman scoots right by without wearing a mask at all. What’s up with that, Bea Arthur? Are you the queen of England or something?

Was ready to give her a piece of my mind when I remembered there’s no way of telling how many old lady germs she has. So, of course, I stayed 6 feet away and held my breath. But there are much bigger issues at hand than Bea Arthur – I’m down to 40 rolls of toilet paper and there’s nada on the shelves here. NOTHING. Focus, man. What would Michael Jordan do in this situation?

To succeed like MJ takes dedication. So there’s really just one option. And, actually, it’s surprisingly easy to hide in a grocery store for the night. This way, I’ll be well within striking distance when the TP arrives on shelves at sunrise. If we’re being honest, yes, it’s a bit chilly under all these dairy products – but morning will be here soon enough. And the dreams of holding 24 new rolls of Cottonelle will keep me warm tonight.

So excited I can hardly sleep!

April 4^th
Woke up at dawn with a fire in my belly. And also what I think might be a moderate case of frostbite. Whatever. This isn’t the time for quitters.

As soon as the coast was clear, I stormed out of the dairy section and Usain Bolted to the toilet paper aisle. But a homely-looking creeper was there already with his dirty, ungloved hands on my Cottonelle. Who the hell? Wait, it can’t be. He turned toward me and I realized it was none other than nosy neighbor Jared. How did I forget that he always wakes up with the birds? Dammit. Does this mama’s boy even know that Cottonelle is twice as absorbent as the leading national brand?  

I slid right up to him. And, yes, words were exchanged. That’s life. It happens. Did I cross the line by saying I hope he gets the rona? Possibly. But it was no excuse for that busybody to call the manager over. And since when is there a store policy against how people choose to wear their pants?

Listen, I haven’t worn anything on my legs for weeks. So if I decide to put my underwear on the outside now…that is 100% totally my right. Apparently people have forgotten about a certain legend named…oh, I don’t know…Superman. Big-time double standard. Clark Kent was a worldwide hero for putting his underwear on the outside of his pants. But as soon as I become CottonelleMan by doing the exact same thing…it “frightens the customers” enough to get me escorted out? Whatever. Didn’t wanna wear stupid pants anyway.

Came home and had a few beers to calm myself down. It also seemed to help with the frostbite pain.

P.S. Maybe I need a hobby.

April 5^th
Ate a block of cheddar cheese and 12 Oreos for breakfast. Stomach is making strange noises. My belly sounds a lot like a mariachi band right now. So I’ve officially named it Alejandro.

Need to get some exercise and walk off the extra pounds, but too many freaks outside without masks. No way I’m going out there.

Better to keep the godforsaken pants off and watch some cornhole. Spent the day minding my own business enjoying a case of beer when it finally hit me – I’m down to 35 rolls of Cottonelle. What. The. Fuck?

Not good.

I’d love to say I handled the news better. But after looking up the symptoms, I believe this is what’s known as a “panic attack.”

P.S. Will my legs ever stop trembling?

April 11^th
Tossed and turned all night. Had intense nightmares about a giant roll of Cottonelle chasing me through the house. Unfortunately, I’ve never studied dream analysis. There’s no way of knowing what it all meant. More importantly, it appears I’ve grown a second chin during quarantine. Considered going for a jog but had to finish off these Oreos to get them to stop staring at me.

Can’t remember the last time I ate anything other than cheese, beer, or these delicious cream-filled pieces of heaven. Whatever. Spent the rest of the day lost in my imagination. Mostly just daydreams about normal stuff like Jared in various torture scenarios.

Need to get back on track tomorrow.

April 24^th
I’ve started to grow a mullet – I believe his name will be Heinrich.

(Should probably run that by Alejandro first. Don’t want to create any problems at home)

P.S. Is it normal to take naps at 11:30 at night?

April 27^th
Made good progress today. Some solid moves. Was finally able to escape the cornhole vortex to go for a run. Started out well but, at the end of the street, I spotted a child without a mask. She was both tiny and fearless. I found myself frozen in place on that sidewalk. It felt like slow motion. She stared at me with her unblinking eyes…took the lollipop out…and started to cough.

Naturally, I ran home screaming.

May 1^st
Going to see my family for the first time in over a month later today when I attend my sister’s Zoom wedding. Am I supposed to throw rice at the computer? And will they still recognize me as CottonelleMan?

Feels like I’ve found a nice groove in the self-quarantine. Sure, my doctor says I’m at a dangerous weight right now. And, obviously, Jared’s restraining order won’t expire for another 6 months. But I’m currently experiencing a lovely buzz from my brand new concoction. I call it Beer-E-O. So delicious and incredibly easy to make – just 9 parts beer and 9 parts Oreo.

Overall, life is good. It really felt like I experienced a breakthrough when I hit my last roll of Cottonelle yesterday. My mom describes this a “psychotic break” but I’m not familiar with her complicated scientific jargon. I believe I’ve found true freedom. Never been happier or more alive.

P.S. Is this September?

Surreal Life

I’m sleeping very soundly these days because of two words…

Donald Trump.

Sure, for just a moment, I started to wonder if he’s actually a doctor at all.

But then I had a pep talk with myself. And it was really tremendous. You’ve never seen such a beautiful pep talk. Believe me, a lot of people are talking about it.

I asked myself a reasonable question…

Why should I care about a medical degree from some overpriced loser college?

In fact, what is a “doctor” really? Can’t anyone just buy one of those white coats at the store?

It’s far more impressive to have a natural gift for science and medicine.

And nobody…I mean, nobody…is as gifted as the host of Celebrity Apprentice.

Sure, it can get slightly confusing. We hate Hollywood people and our leader is…well, a television producer for Hollywood. But I just remind myself that details are as useless as minorities.

We, as winners, stay focused on what really matters:

That not just anyone gets to hang out with Gary Busey and Dennis Rodman on TV.

Who could possibly understand working, small-town people better than this man who owns a gold Manhattan tower?

Nobody.

At a time like this, we could all use a little perspective. So here it is from the top:

Stop thinking about your silly job.

Don’t focus on the dumb economy (other than when it’s up).

And, no matter what, ignore the weird flu that people keep crying about.

Look around.

Breathe it all in.

Most likely, you’ve never felt more happiness or confidence in the future.

THIS is living.

And if things weren’t exciting enough already, I just heard something juicy off the record…

This rumor comes from someone VERY high up the ladder (Scott Baio). Apparently we are extremely close to a vaccine now. According to my source, the country’s foremost expert is working in the lab as we speak. In fairness, he does need to take occasional breaks to film his My Pillow infomercials. But that’s pretty standard stuff.

The official statement from the White House is that “a lot of great things will be happening.”

So quit your childish whining about luxuries like food and toilet paper.

Focus on the great things that will be happening. Especially because there will be a lot of them. And that’s a direct quote.

I’ve heard some of you claim that an “unbalanced game show host with no qualifications” running our country is weird.

But it’s not.

And you know what else?

You’re weird.

See, the problem is that you focus on all the wrong things. You make jokes about my main man being a “grifter” who steals from charities. You poke fun at his struggles with challenging things like spelling and reading. But what about recognizing true greatness when it shows up at your doorstep?

See, the only thing Donald Trump knows how to do is kick ass.

And anything you hear to the contrary is fake.

In fact, that’s a great life lesson. Whenever you dislike something…just call it fake. Obviously, we know about the media. It’s clear that 100% of individuals who go to school for journalism are fake. But cats are pretty unlikable too, right? So I think we should call them fake. Also bologna sandwiches. Totally fake.

(Hopefully you’re starting to embrace this new-and-improved way of life as much as I am)

Now that we’re discussing it, why do hospitals need so many masks and ventilators for a flu like this?

Yup…sounds like the hospitals are probably fake too.

Now you’re getting it.

We need to do better, guys. And going forward, we need to stop with all the selfishness.

Especially our so-called “sweet” grandparents who’ve already had plenty of years here on earth.

Can you believe those old bastards would rather live their lives than think about the stock market?

(HOLY SHIT, what if our grandparents are fake too??)

When all of this is over, we should learn how to be more like our leader. And this step-by-step guide should help along the way:

1. Always claim to be an expert at everything. Never been to Canada? Doesn’t matter. Pretend you know more about Canadians than anyone. Never cooked an omelette? Just say you’re better at it than Julia Child. Because that’s how winners think.
2. Avoid having reasonable debates with anyone who dares disagree with you. If someone is disloyal enough to have their own opinion…publicly shame them. As loudly as possible. If possible, refer to them as a pig.
3. When someone quotes you…even if they’ve literally recorded your words…respond by saying, “I never said that. And you’re nasty.” If all else fails, grab the person by the pussy and/or make fun of their ethnicity. Always remember that immigrants cause 100% of all problems.
4. If you ever get intimidated by criticism, just remember your elementary school years and think “nuh-uh you are.”
   (Example: If someone comments on your mental instability…call THEM crazy. It will catch them by surprise and impress all your friends)
5. Start having rallies. Because that isn’t weird at all. You’ll need to start small with family members and neighbors. Just remember that all that matters in the world is having people who praise you. The goal is to create a never-ending black hole of attention you need. One that can never be filled. It’s good to have hobbies and this is a noble one.

It’s great to share all of this wisdom. But I’m starting to worry about what we’ll do when it’s time for a new leader. Ideally, the world will end before then and we won’t have to worry about it. If society does continue, clearly politicians are the worst. It’s going to be important to clean that mess and find another real person we can trust. Hopefully we can get someone high-profile…maybe a Harvey Weinstein or Bill Cosby type? They both seem pretty no-nonsense. Just as long as it’s not a politician. It’s very important to find someone whose first government job will be President Of The United States.

All in all, March was tremendous. Even though this flu is a hoax, we’ll probably only lose 200,000 people from it. And that seems like a huge win. Wait…if most of those people are poor, did they ever even count as being alive?

In closing, all of this is true.

Also, Santa Claus is real and The Points Guy is a super trustworthy blog.