Do it or shut up
Every day it seems like the world (and by that, I mean Twitter -- or whatever it's called now) is coming to an end. And because of that, I shake my head and remember how sad society is with its reliance on social media.
Every day it seems like the world (and by that, I mean Twitter -- or whatever it's called now) is coming to an end. And because of that, I shake my head and remember how sad society is with its reliance on social media.
I've always heard that New Yorkers are rude. They have a certain aggressive way of talking and it gives a brash vibe to outsiders. Over here in California, I've always thought the sunshine and weather made people naturally happier. I dunno. I think I might be wrong about Cali -- at least nowadays, anyway.
There are moments in life when the universe taps you on the shoulder and delivers a reality check so profound, so utterly undeniable, that it chills you to the core. For some, it might be the first gray hair. For others, it's struggling to open a jar. For me, it was a perfectly innocent basket of french fries. And let me tell you, those fries were salty. Too salty, in fact.

There’s a phrase that haunts the post-breakup landscape, a saccharine lie whispered, typed and sometimes even shouted for all the world to hear: “I wish them all the best.”
I've always been an outlier when it comes to "hometown pride." You know that unspoken, often loudly proclaimed, obligation to pledge unwavering allegiance to the city you were born in or currently call home? Yeah, I've never quite grasped it. In fact, I find it a little… manufactured.
Let’s talk about cooking shows. Specifically, that grating, military-esque chorus that echoes through almost every competitive culinary arena on TV: "YES, CHEF!"

As a homeowner who takes pride in my property and cares about the well-being of animals, I find myself constantly frustrated by a common trend in my neighborhood: the prevalence of so-called "outdoor cats."

With any senseless murder in the United States, naturally the whole gun control debate comes up.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, a kind of internal audit of my own emotional responses, and it's led me down a fascinating, slightly unsettling rabbit hole.

For a while now, I’ve been observing a phenomenon that, frankly, has grown beyond a mere trend and morphed into a pervasive cultural expectation. It’s the insistent whisper – or often, a shout – that everyone needs to be a content creator.
Like many TV viewers, I find myself occasionally drawn to the flashing lights and siren calls of reality cop shows. "Body Cam," "PD Cam," "Police 24/7" – they offer a glimpse into the daily grind of law enforcement, a ride-along from the comfort (and safety) of my couch.
As I sit here, reflecting on my experiences as an American, I am reminded of the peculiar phenomenon that seems to permeate our culture: the unwavering conviction that our country is the best in the world.
Just a few days ago, as the lazy Los Angeles afternoon melted into evening, I caught a news segment that stopped me in my tracks. It was about how students are falling (even more) behind and the pandemic didn't help and yadda-yadda-yadda. It showed a bunch of B-roll of sad kids for added emphasis.
I’m only in my early 30s, yet lately, I’ve found myself uttering phrases like, “Kids these days,” or shaking my head at what I perceive as a general decline in… well, everything.
I’ve never quite understood the compulsion. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? That pervasive, almost aggressive need for couples to broadcast every single detail of their relationship on social media.

Lots of people think they’re cool as a cucumber. Rarely do people want to admit to being a worrier.
As June rolls around each year, a growing number of people in the LGBTQ community take issue with big corporations capitalizing on the concept of Pride. You've undoubtedly seen the rants on social media that company logos are suddenly rainbows and stores are full of products to make money, money, money for the greedy CEOs who couldn't care less about Pride come July 1.
I've made it pretty clear that I'm not a fan of life playing out on social media. Just scroll through my other commentaries in recent weeks. You'll see.
I remember it so clearly: the sheer joy, the unbridled freedom that came with cutting the cord.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we present our lives online, and specifically, how we present our relationships.
I’ve never understood the widespread fascination with tattoos, especially when they reach a certain… saturation point.

I recently ordered groceries online, a mundane transaction in our modern world, one I’ve probably completed hundreds of times. Barely 10 minutes after the delivery, my phone buzzed. An email: "How was your experience?" My immediate thought wasn't gratitude or helpful feedback; it was an exasperated groan. Again?
I have a theory, one that might sound a little old-fashioned, but I truly believe it holds a kernel of profound truth: I think if people dressed nicer, the world would be significantly less douchey.
I'm obviously employed so this commentary isn't about me. I do, however, have several unemployed friends who say they've been unable to land a job in the past year.