A man of my caliber...

Some days I'd like to be a Libertarian, though I'm afraid I lack the requisite mean streak. As far as gun ownership goes, I believe it's good to keep the government from enjoying an absolute monopoly on the tools of violence. I'd be scared if only cops and soldiers had guns. Still, nobody wants to get shot. Here's one way families can vote with their pocketbooks: When sending a kid off to college, pick a school in a state that requires a comprehensive background check for firearms purchases. It's no guarantee of safety, but at least it's not tacit complicity.

Gripes Almighty

People say to me, “Dave, how can you write what is essentially a sequence of complaints when you are a member of the dominant culture within the dominant species on your planet at what looks to be the absolute pinnacle of its global power?” Actually, nobody says that to me. Who would dare? I'm just imagining being asked such a question so that I can imagine my reply: “Look. What you say is true. I'm also tall and clever, with regular features and a booming baritone voice. Given these attributes, self-pity is the only pity I'm likely to get.”

Read Cautiously

You know what’s stupid? The phrase “drink responsibly” is stupid. You know why? Of course you do. It’s stupid because the whole entire point of drinking is to escape responsibility. Like anything else, drinking should be engaged in with unflinching dedication and a wholehearted commitment to getting this damn thing done right. By “right” I mean waking up with teeth that taste like tiny ashtrays and a vague awareness that at some point in the recent past you have done something absolutely unforgivable. Drink responsibly? Then what - nap resolutely? It could probably be done, but what would be the point?

I am risen, too. Barely.

Yesterday I observed my traditional Easter fast, subsisting entirely on chocolate and hard boiled eggs. As a consequence, this morning I find myself morose and dyspeptic. Plus, this ain't a good day for reading the news. The guy who made up the phrase “clams got legs” is dead. And in France, this politician whose name sounds like some kind of inoperable malignancy is convincing voters that a get-tough immigration policy is what's needed. Which is pretty bold talk coming from a Magyar halfbreed. You know what they say: Any time you meet a Hungarian, kick him. He'll know why.

A Plague of Fries?

Here's a trivial factoid that will likely leap to the top of your “I will never need this knowledge” list: There is a kosher McDonald's in Buenos Aires. My source gives me very little additional information, but I'm assuming you can't get a cheeseburger there. A Big Mac would be out of the question. Maybe a “Big Mo,” a kind of glorified Hillel Sandwich, plus some kind of wine smoothie to wash it down. Print a Haggadah on the placemat. Really, the idea is no more sacrilegious than the McRib. Now there's an abomination in the eyes of the Lord.