Despite the title,

I don’t actually rant much. There’s plenty of cranky guys with bushy eyebrows cracking wise about how peaches aren’t delicious anymore or what’s up with those little buns on bearded guys. That only works if deep down you have a heart of gold, which I don’t. The Ambrose Bierce trajectory, leading inevitably to a mysterious death whilst hanging out with Pancho Villa. Sure, I have my pet peeves, just like anybody. But they’re so prosaic. Like, who hasn’t wished there was black dental floss? Or wondered, when opening a new deck of cards, why they’re so stingy with the fours?