One million push-ups. Read every book ever. Join a frat. Build a fort. Get a bold new haircut. Set fire to the rain. Lose 15-60 pounds. Lose appendix. Lose virginity. Make love. Make two people cry in one night. Show every … Read More
In an election where both candidates for President profess a faith that teaches a preferential option for the poor, it is lamentable that there has yet to be a real discussion about equality in American society. As has been the case for the past five election cycles, we continue to engage in a debate that pits “cultural” against “issue driven” politics.
Dear Guy from TI the other night, aka Mike, aka My Love, My Love, My Love,
What the hell happened? I’m so pissed at you that I can’t even talk to you about it face-to-face. Also, I can’t find you, which makes it harder to talk to you face-to-face. Isn’t this weird? I’m pissed at you, but I still love you. Look at that. So I’ve resorted to writing this letter in the hopes that you’re the one guy who goes to TI who also reads the Nass.
I haven’t seen you in a while. And I suppose you’ve never really seen me (remember, I am just one proton). Though I periodically get lonely, I manage to stay positive. This is a joke, Oxygen. You see, I am always positive in an electromagnetic sense (I am a proton!), but my morale—well, with a relentless positive charge comes a great burden. O—may I call you O?—nothing comes easily to me.