Now see folks here’s what we call a McCon-essay, a — a McConaughe-rant, or what have you. Tu comprendo brother? This is just a way to be, a way to be your best self — me — I am your best self. Just believe me when I say that, amigo. But I know what you’re thinking though, aight — you’re thinking “How could Academy Award winning actor, Matthew McConaughey, the living embodiment of McConaissance AND the baby angel plus the alien emoji — have time, have actual time, and not to mention the d e d i c a t i o n for this kind of social enlightenment?” Now, see, there’s a darkness, right? But with all those kinds of dark there comes a light . . . ness.

A reservoir of truth has shot out of me and I shall not betray it, no sir, I am for the people, by the people, I will serve in all my mighty capacity to bring y’all to some good ol’ McConaughey state of livin’ no matter. Let me bring you to that J(ust) K(eep) L(ivin’) kind of goodness, hombre. I am me, but you can be me, too. You and I can both be me, together, in the holy light towards the sunsets of providence (not the city) onwards to the betterment of humanity, to the betterment of us, right on right on to the end goal of real true protruding happiness. I am my own hero in 10 years — so, let me be yours, too. I’ll show you the way, brother.

Alright, alright folks here are some much needed tips to be more like me.

Numero Uno: If you do not have a McConaug-drawl — as in part Texan, part mildly stringed-together Spanish, and part whatever the fuck you want — then what are ya really doing with yo life, brother?

Numero Two: Now, see, I am the epitome of the great Southern American Dream. I am tan enough to look ethnically ambiguous but I am white enough to not make white people uncomfortable. It’s a win-win hombre. So here’s my second Mcconaugh-tip to you — become white and get a tan, it’s just that easy folks.

Three: Now, what you might not know — might not synthesize when you first happen upon my great physique — and now I don’t blame you, no, no, I’m just saying, I’m just saying I wouldn’t blame you for not knowing that I am . . . actually . . . very . . . fun. I am funny, I am fun, you know what I’m saying brother? I’m a funny person. I make jokes, I know how to wield a joke so it creates laughter in the very deep pits of your stomach that’s so real, so intense, so hilarious, ha ha you know what I mean now, don’t you brother?

I’m funny.

Four: I read, you know homie? Like, read. I don’t read that 50 Shades shit, nah — I read like deep shit, you feel me? I read words on the pages, but they also read me, you know? They read me. You ever read Kafka? Kafka writing to Max Brod, ya feel me brother? Talking about death, tuberculosis, and shit. Awww yeah!! That’s the good stuff right there brother. The Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann — life changing, man. Read that shit brother, read it.

Five: Now let me tell you a story: okay, okay, it’s the year twenty-oh-nine, you follow me? I’ve just finished the very successful Ghosts of Girlfriends Past with the wonderful Jennifer Garner — hey Jen — and I’m just pondering, you know, I’m feeling the feels, I’m doing the searching of my life, okay, of my l i f e. My wife Camila asks me: “Matthew, are you happy?” And I think to myself, “No, no I’m not.” Now, I couldn’t lie to myself if I wanted to, you know, it’s that good Southern upbringing — shout out to my mother and the great city of Houston — and I think: “What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” And then it hits me — get your life fucking together, man. And so I do.

Now I’m Oscar winner Matthew McConaughey, chyeah, shit brother!

Six: I used to be a Hollywood joke, okay. There’s just no way around it, and I wanna be real with you, homie: I was a joke. Not just to Hollywood, but to myself, too. I didn’t take roles where I had to take my shirt off — no siree — I added that part right in brother. Did that all by myself, all for myself. But you’re going ask me why, Matthew? Why did you want to take your shirt off, Matthew? And I’ve just got three words for you hombre: I look good. Oof, yah, I look fucking good. And I still do, but that takes discipline, see. It’s true I don’t take my shirt off as much anymo’ — in Dallas Buyers Club nobody wanted to see me with my shirt off, I was n a s t y, fuck, but did you see Rustin Cohle in ‘95 — that hair, that ass — I ain’t gonna deny it — I looked good. So, look good too, I believe in you brother.

Numero Sept: I think on my feet all the time, alright — when I’m at award shows, which is a thing I do a lot, I just gotta think on my feet. I gotta be me, and think. Let me tell you a story, once I was at Buffalo, I wasn’t a buffalo, I was in Buffalo — the state — and I was with my son Levi . . . cute kid . . . we were just hiking up some pretty tall mountains when out of nowhere, and when I say “nowhere” I ain’t kidding — out of nowhere — this mountain goat just appears. Now Levi starts screaming, the goat’s huffing, I’m panicking, what do I do? This animal is looking at me dead on, like I’m one of him and he’s one of me and we’re just looking at each other like we’re carnal animals looking into the depths of each other’s souls, right? And I know what’s going on, I feel it, I know what he’s thinking and that’s when I decide that there’s just no two ways around it: so I throw my son Levi over the mountain and then I scream like a hyena and just jump the fuck right out of there.

So be like me; think on your feet.

Eight: Shit, son, you gotta have chill though. Nobody likes somebody with no chill, mkay? When you’re having a panic attack because, you know, you lost your job, or, or you realize that — that one day you’re going to die, or you’ve just watched Interstellar and you’re like why the fuck would Anne Hathaway wanna live on a planet on her own — think this: chill out homie. And you will. That’s a McConauguarantee.

Nine: Smoke weed, brother. Smoke that goddamn weed. There’s a reason why that shit was put on this beautiful, pristine earth we have here. Weed elucidates, it educates, it elevates — there’s a reason it’s called a high, homie — just think of that.

Ten: JKL. Just. Keep. Living. Don’t stop living, homies. Don’t do it — there will be times that the devil, and I mean metaphorically the devil, it could be you, you could be your own devil, ya feel me? You’re thinking I can’t live another day — no, I can’t do this: but you can. Live. Just keep living, hombre, don’t give up.

That’s it homies. Just some easy tips to live yo life with some McConaugh-ease. Try this shit out, and then thank me later brothers (and sisters, I don’t discriminate). Peace out from the McConau-crib.

Watch a dramatic reading of Matthew McConaughey’s tip-filled McConaughe-rant below!

With the media focused intently on stories of sexual harassment, we might be forgetting one thing. Yes, there’s a lot of sexual harassment, but some men out there do, in fact, have stories of times they didn’t sexually harass a woman. Maybe it’s time we find those men, and maybe it’s time we tell those stories.

Here, I ask brave, upstanding men to share stories of encounters with women that did not involve sexual harassment.

“I was waiting in line at the grocery store, and I noticed the girl in front of me has a nice ass. Well, I say ‘girl’ because she was extremely sexually attractive to me — she was probably in her late twenties with a successful career, eh, if I had to guess, I’d say she ran a team of software engineers, based on the fact that I took a photo and Google-imaged her and found her Linkedin. Anyway, I stared at her ass for a long time, but whaddya know — I didn’t grab it.”
— The Hero John Monroe

“Do I have a story about not sexually harassing a woman? Ha, yeah, funny you should ask. It happened today, actually. I was walking my dog, and another woman was walking her dog, and we just walked on past each other.”
— The Venerable Mark Wallace

“Oh boy, do I have a story for you. Have I ever not sexually harassed a woman? You better believe I have. The year was 1999. I was on a bus, and I saw a lady with a great chest. Probably at least a D. But I said to myself, I said, ‘Harry, you got a wife and two daughters at home, do NOT comment on her breasts.’ And I didn’t! Although you better believe I took the seat next to her even though the whole bus was empty. And you better believe I manspreaded onto her — not in a sexual way, that’s just how I sit always.”
— Sir Harry Frederick The Brave

“Let me tell you what feminism looks like, OK? I have a new female coworker on my team at work. And she is not attractive. So I have not asked her out. Not all heroes wear capes. But I do. What do you think of my cape?”
— Feminist Icon Barry Marshall Who Is Currently Wearing A Superman Cape He Probably Bought At A Children’s Toy Store

“My brother was telling me about a time he didn’t sexually harass a woman, and I said me too! Me too! Is that what the me too movement is about?”
— The Honorable Tim Johnson The Confused

“Yeah of course I have a story about not sexually harassing a woman. I saw a pretty girl on the train, and I said, ‘hey sweet cheeks what’s your number?’ And she said — oh, wait? You’re counting that? As sexual harassment? Hm, ok, let me get back to you.”
— The Noble Andrew Harrison Who Will Go Check His Notes And Then Get Back To Me To Become The Even More Noble Andrew Harrison

“Well, there was a lady at a bar. And I was trying to talk to her for about an hour. She kept saying things like ‘stop grabbing my ass’ and ‘did you put anything in my drink?’ Ha, what a tease. Anyway, I followed her home — no, no, I’m getting to it — I followed her home, I waited outside her apartment, and then I remembered. The bartender was a woman too. And I didn’t say anything to her. This is what a feminist looks like. Well, that bartender looked like a feminist. That’s why I didn’t talk to her.”
— The Esteemed Patrick Goldman

“I’ve prepared 282 stories. Oh, wait, you want stories about times I did NOT sexually harass a woman? Let me think — uh, OK, got nothing. Sorry, I misread the email.”
— Harvey Weinstein

If you read these stories and want to share your own, please find the author of this post on Twitter and tag a woman you have not sexually harassed.

Your assumptions about The Good Fairy expose your own bigotry. She’s not in the right here. All I’m trying to do, when I scoop up field mice and bop them on the head, is to preserve my own identity as a Little Rabbit. Not many people know that Little Rabbits are under threat. I’m hoping to change that through social media.

Some history: For nearly a century, field mice have been pulling the wool over your eyes and making you believe that they’re victims, just because I scoop them up and bop them on the head. Using this falsehood, they get special treatment and benefits, and all the while the correct power structure in which Little Rabbits rule over the forest civilization is eroding. But believe me, the natural order of things is to have Little Rabbits in charge. That’s the way it’s been ever since we were Little Rabbits in Europe. Scooping up field mice and bopping on them on the head is part of our birthright.

There’s this frog who totally gets me. He’s the only one.

Everything bad that has ever happened is a result of taking away power from Little Rabbits. Little Rabbits are much smarter than field mice. Let that sink in… If I didn’t scoop up field mice and bop them on the head, they’d mix with Little Rabbits and then what would happen? There would be no Little Rabbits. It would be Little Rabbit genocide.

In 1987, 103 field mice participated in a Florida University study. The study revealed tapping the head of field mice stimulates the neurons which produce serotonin, also known as “the happy hormone.” Given this incontrovertible fact I ask you, where’s your compassion for field mice? What about their happiness? YOU’RE the one who hates field mice.

In a forest where I can freely bop them on the head, field mice would be much better off. If you say you care about field mice — you, the Good Fairy, and the Forest Council which has recently issued a statement condemning my bopping field mice on the head — you’re a hypocrite. You don’t give a damn about field mice, their children, or babies. You’re just virtue signalling to convince yourselves that you’re better than me, Little Rabbit Foo Foo. I won’t let you get away with that, baby-hater.

The frog watches everything. I know he has my back. I call him Pepe.

The Good Fairy is the real racist, because she’s destroying Little Rabbit civilization. The Good Fairy needs to take her “I don’t like your attitude” sanctimony and shove it up her ass. Oh wait… I’m not supposed to say stuff like that anymore because it’s not politically correct. Remind me: Who’s being oppressed again?

Most field mice are undocumented, you realize, so you’re defending something illegal. ILLEGAL. Think hard about that. Meanwhile, the Good Fairy threatens to turn me into a Goonie, and no one cries out. Everyone has become desensitized to hatred directed against Little Rabbits.

On a side note, don’t believe the false doublespeak Gruffalo narrative which implies that field mice are clever. The Gruffalo is a cuck. Everyone knows that, and calling someone a cuck is the best, most damning, most devastating insult and not for a moment will I ever examine why I’m convinced of that. Read this excellent article I found on Reddit called “Are field mice mammals?” Take your red pill!

Sometimes, the other forest animals watch me, perplexed, as I scoop up field mice and bop them on the head. “What on earth are you doing?” they say. “And why do you keep calling people cucks?” “I’m a proud Little Rabbit,” I tell them, “and I’m committed to safeguarding the heritage of the European forest civilization.” To their follow-up question, I reply, “Yes, I am aware that most real-life Europeans think I’m just a strange Little Rabbit. I get asked that a lot.”

And after all my efforts, what happens? The Good Fairy still doesn’t like my attitude. She’s trying to silence me and suppress the truth by threatening to turn me into a Goonie. The Forest Council has approved the measure. But just you wait. The frog is going to rise up. The frog is strong and bold. My feelings for the frog are purely platonic, by the way.

Go ahead. Try to turn me into a Goonie. We will rise up. The frog will…. Wait. Where is the frog going? Hey, come back! Don’t spawn now! I don’t have any chances left! Wait! You’ll see! We will rule the world! We’ll be the master race again! We’ll all get book deals and aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhbhbhghh!

‘I promise you it’s totally possible to get rid of cramps through exercise.’

Editor’s note: The following is a satirical piece designed to lambaste despicable ideas surrounding reproductive anatomy, menstruation, and gender. To that end, it utilizes some cissexist and heteronormative language. As we’ve heard from readers since the piece’s publication, some usages of this language, sans the proper editorial note(s)/overt satirical markers, are erasive to some people assigned female at birth. We apologize for any harm caused and will aim to be more inclusive in our editorial process going forward.

Well, actually, I read that there’s no such thing as PMS. What happens during, you know, that time of the month, is that your body is reacting to a number of complex sociopolitical factors that make you think you’re experiencing cramps, headaches, and mood swings, but there’s no scientific basis for it. I don’t know if you’ve heard of the Stanford Prison Experiment? Basically, a bunch of Stanford students were assigned to be guards, and other students were prisoners, and the guards ended up waterboarding the prisoners and all this wild shit. They were trying to study Naziism, but if you think about it, it also explains why so many women think they have PMS. People are pretty suggestible—most of them will believe anything you tell them.

You might not have realized that you can actually die from tampons if you leave them in too long. There’s this disease called tampon shock syndrome that basically causes your whole body to go into shock. This one girl lost her leg. You’re supposed to change your tampon every one to two hours, during your, you know, red sea, so you don’t get TSS. Like how guys have to shave every day or we end up with a 5 o’clock shadow. Sometimes it’s hard to remember things like this, but I’ve found that the more you apply discipline to one specific area of your life, the more disciplined you become overall. Have you read the Tim Ferriss book The 4-Hour Workweek? It’s about how you can actually fit a week’s worth of work into four hours. I think you’d dig it.

Well, actually, the reason tampons are taxed is that they’re non-essential goods. Like candles. The way to tell whether something is essential or non-essential is to ask yourself: Would I die if I didn’t have this? There are other ways to deal with your, you know, barbecue sauce bath, that aren’t tampons, so that makes them non-essential. Another way taxation works is that it’s used to disincentive certain behaviors. Like, for instance, there’s a tax on cigarettes because smoking gives you lung cancer. Are you familiar with how supply and demand works? Basically you draw two lines — the supply curve, and the demand curve — and where they meet is called the point of parity. Basically, if there were no tax on tampons, demand would outstrip supply, and then prices would skyrocket, and you’d be way worse off.

Trust me on this — I read that some tampons are actually made with hay and dental floss, because they’re cheaper than synthetic fibers, and they work just as well, for stopping the, you know, crimson tide. There’s this concept in economics—my sophomore year roommate actually minored in Econ—that explains that manufacturers prefer to use cheaper raw materials to maximize their profits. Like, if I were a chef, I would buy slightly expired ingredients, because they’re cheaper, and that won’t really affect the quality of the food. I found out that you can actually drink milk more than a week past its expiration date. Tim Ferriss talks about that in The 4-Hour Chef, which is pretty much my bible for weekly meal prep. If you want to start eating healthier, you should definitely check it out.

You probably didn’t realize that in some countries, women are ostracized during their, you know, lady leakage. They have to wear these red cloaks with white bonnets, and they’re called handmaids for those few days. That part is just in Syria. Actually, women used to be ostracized in the U.S. too. It makes sense, if you think about it, because of all of the estrogen. I read that large amounts of estrogen in the human body are actually more dangerous than large amounts of testosterone. In women’s prisons, the cycles of all the inmates actually sync up, and the guards have to be careful about riots. That’s what happened in this documentary I saw, Orange Is the New Black.

I promise you it’s totally possible to get rid of cramps through exercise. What’s the lady Advil called? Midol? Too much of that stuff can kill you. And it doesn’t actually work, either. I read it had the same effect as a placebo in a study of a dozen women who had their, you know, female flood. Exercise usually does it for me when I’m not feeling great. Have you read The 4-Hour Body? You might actually find it helpful. Tim Ferriss talks about how you’re supposed to work different muscle groups on different days, otherwise the lactic acid builds up, and your muscles explode. It happened to this one guy who did too much CrossFit. But I’d definitely recommend the book. Switching up your workout routine can actually help reduce body fat too.

Well, actually, prostate exams are supposed to be a lot more painful than cramps. A lot of men rate them as a nine out of 10 on the pain scale, which is one away from a 10. I think guys just talk about it less when we feel pain, you know, because of how we’ve been socialized. It’s way more socially acceptable for women to complain about cramps during, you know, your scarlet spillage. But when we drink milk that’s gone bad or something and our stomachs are completely messed up, we’re just supposed to grin and bear it. I actually don’t think epidurals would have been invented if men were the ones who had babies. It’s another one of those mind over matter things, you know? I could totally give birth if I had to.

In my family, the presence of Siri has fundamentally, and forever, changed us.

Illustration: Sophia Foster-Dimino

By Andrea Grimes

They say that smartphones are tearing us apart. That technology is building walls, not tearing them down. That the internet makes us dumber.

Not in my family. In my family, the presence of a goofy ole gal named Siri has fundamentally, and forever, changed us. For the better.

Every family has its special holiday traditions and quirks. Some folks all wear matching pajamas for Christmas morning, others all share a beloved pancake or latke recipe, or escape to their favorite skiing locale.

My family argues about facts. Dates of birth, dates of death, celebrity marriages, the lengths of various wars both foreign and domestic. The ingredients in all manner of pies and desserts. The temperature at which meat is safe to eat. Which QVC host rang in New Year’s Eve 1998 while shilling for Craftsman tools? (Or was it the Kirks Folly jewelry spectacular that year?) If it’s a question that definitely has an answer, my family is definitely not just going to find out what that answer is and do literally anything else with the precious and limited gift of life.

I have tried to warn my friends and boyfriends about this habit ahead of time. They never believe me. Until it’s too late. My mom and dad once spent the entirety of a half-hour car ride to dinner arguing in front of my new friend Susan about the nature of real estate purchases on cruise ships. What if, my dad suggested, you could buy a condo on a cruise ship? You could live on a cruise ship!

My mother was not having it.

< twang > “But Tommy, who would want to live on a cruise ship? You’d just visit the same places over and over and over again.” < / twang>

My dad countered: < twang > “No you wouldn’t! The ship would go all over the world!” < / twang >

Hey, quick question: Do you guys know if you can buy a house on a cruise ship? Do you know whether, if you did, that ship would go to like, the same five destinations, or if it would go all over the world? I DON’T KNOW EITHER. NEITHER DID MY MOM. OR MY DAD. OR SUSAN, WHO NEARLY CHOKED HERSELF TO DEATH TRYING NOT TO AUDIBLY LAUGH HER WAY OUT OF THE CAR. This didn’t happen in 1995. This happened in 2010, 12 years after the invention of Google and three years after God gave us the iPhone.

But did my parents ask Siri, “Can you buy a room on a cruise ship” or “if I lived on a cruise ship where would it go”? They did not. It was pure fucking speculation all the way to the Olive Garden.

But the Grimes family comeuppance was on its way. And it came in the form of a meek, three-word rebuttal, uttered by my dearest and sweetest aunt, sugar personified, sweetness incarnate: Cindy. Cindy is the youngest of my mom’s three sisters, and while she failed to cultivate the brash smartassedness characteristic of her sisters, her capacity for generosity and quiet affection is unparalleled. Cindy does not start shit.

Until the year she started some shit.

It was Christmas, the year of the great Cruise Ship Debate. I’d brought my boyfriend, now my husband, home to meet my family for the first time. Things were going well. We had not had a protracted fall-out over whether Richard Nixon had died in the spring or the fall, so I was hopeful, but nervous, especially since big ordeal holidays were not really Patrick’s family’s thing. Patrick’s family just sort of of gets together whenever it’s convenient, because his parents are divorced, like normal people willing to end their factual forever-wars in a draw.

But Christmas lunch went great. We ate at 2 p.m. and were on track to continue grazing, as we do, until one of my aunts remembers that her cats haven’t eaten in 14 hours and the party breaks up.

My aunt Cindy does not start shit. Until the year she started some shit.

Cats are important here. My family is a cat family. Growing up, we had anywhere from six to 20 cats at any given time. My mom, who is an actual genius, went back to school at age 50 and got a veterinary degree so she could take care of more cats. I have heard my family argue about the temperature at which sand becomes glass, but I have never heard them argue about cats. There’s nothing to discuss. Because we don’t just know about cats — the things we know about cats? ARE FUCKING FACTS.

So this is like, nine hours into grazing on turkey and dressing and cream taters and this jello-coolwhip-pineapple thing that we call “pink stuff,” and me and Patrick and my mom and her three sisters, and my dad, are all staring at our phones because we love each other a lot, and my aunt Terri pipes up to read this news story she found on Facebook about this puma they spotted in the woods in East Texas.

Now, my family doesn’t argue about cats but they will argue about East Texas, where they are all from. Are there pumas in East Texas? Well — I mean, this news story seemed to indicate that there are! That was not good enough for my aunt Carla. Carla is the un-Cindy.

< twang throughout > “There ain’t pumas in East Texas. They mean mountain lions.” Carla is the oldest sister. She is 68 years old and she has never been wrong.

Bad Advice On Family-Destroying Cat Worship

But Cindy wondered, ever so gently: “I think pumas and mountain lions are the same thing?” But here’s what: You don’t just suggest, to Carla Fay Baker’s face, that Carla Fay Baker doesn’t have a real solid grasp on the taxonomy of the big cats of her ancestral homeland.

My aunt Terri is just trying to read the story: “Well, anyway, it says there was a puma — ”

Carla: “THERE AIN’T PUMAS IN EAST TEXAS.”

My mom: “Well now, but they could mean jaguars.”

Questions that were explored by my mom and her sisters over the next ten minutes include: What is a jaguar? What is a puma? Is it “jag-yar” when it’s a car, and “jag-u-war” when it’s a cat? Does a jaguar have spots? Is a jaguar a kind of leopard, or is it more like a solid-colored cheetah? How big does a big cat have to be?

Are all wild cats “big cats,” or are some, such as the North African sand cat, which is a small cat, simply wild, but not big? Housecats: More closely related to jaguars, or pumas, if in fact jaguars are not pumas? Do mountain lions have to live in the mountains?

Did I mention that my family does not drink? Or consume mind-altering substances of any kind? This is just straight up, four salty-ass Texas women with giant Texas hair telling each other things they’ve heard about big cats as if Christ himself crawled out of the manger and issued to Carla, Becky, Terri and Cindy each a different, but equally accurate, individual gospel in feral feline biology.

Finally, Carla shut that shit down.

“A PUMA IS NOT A MOUNTAIN LION. A PUMA IS A JAGUAR. AND THERE AIN’T NEVER BEEN NO JAGUARS IN EAST TEXAS.”

Well, it was settled. Because Carla said it was settled. After a few moments of quiet reflection on her decree, my dad cranked up the volume on the Longhorns game. I sipped the last of my coffee and started thinking about a final serving of pink stuff. My mom, cowed into silence once again by the only woman on earth who can out-cat her, resigned herself to flipping through Southern Living’s annual best recipes book.

Are all wild cats ‘big cats,’ or are some, such as the North African sand cat, which is a small cat, simply wild, but not big?

And then my aunt Cindy looked up from her phone. My sweet, demure, dear- hearted aunt — who come to think of it, had been unusually quiet. Turns out she’d mostly spent the last few minutes consulting the tiny experts locked in her bejeweled phone case, straightens up a little in her chair.

“Carla?” she squeaks, holding the screen of her phone up over her cup of super-creamed coffee. “This says not.”

No one on earth could have put together three more shocking words. “I eat dicks.” “Chili has beans.” “Jesus was gay.” Nothing, and I mean nothing, would have done it quite like “This says not.”

Carla was stunned. Cindy proceeded to read the wikipedia article about mountain lions — also known as “pumas.” I quote: “They are a large felid of the subfamily Felinae native to the Americas. Their habitats range from the Canadian Yukon to the southern Andes of South America. Also known as a cougar, the mountain lion is the most widespread of any large wild terrestrial mammal in the Western Hemisphere.”

Not only are pumas and mountain lions the same thing, but they are more likely than other big cats to be found ANYWHERE, including East Texas.

Seven years later, there is no putting the fact-cat back in the bag. Everyone has learned to use their iPhones. Whenever a debate gets rolling, the phones come out and appeals to Wikipedia are made. “We don’t have to wonder!” I find myself shouting over the din of discord as somebody fails to remember who was quarterbacking for the Texas Longhorns in 1985. (It was Bret Stafford.)

The Vietnam war started in 1955 and ended in 1975. A macaron is a meringue-based sandwich cookie, while a macaroon has coconut and is dipped in chocolate. Sand turns to glass at 3,090 degrees fahrenheit. Richard Nixon died in April. Beef, pork, veal and lamb cuts should be heated to 145 degrees, and ground meats to at least 160. Poultry of all types should be cooked to 165 degrees. It was the Craftsman tools special on QVC in 1998.

And a puma is a mountain lion.

Now we have nothing left to talk about. Just like a real family.

Looking For A Comments Section? We Don’t Have One.

]]> https://theestablishment.co/congratulations-on-your-acceptance-to-goop-academy-of-witchcraft-wizardry-265f81c8af93-2/ Fri, 30 Mar 2018 21:25:09 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=2536 Read more]]>

The selection committee was particularly impressed with your kale porridge detox recipe.

pxhere

Ms. Eunice Henderson-Smythe
The Tiniest Brownstone in Park Slope
USA

Goop Academy of Witchcraft & Wizardry is passionately committed to educating witches and wizards in the dedicated art of clean beauty charms, edible enchantments, and miscellaneous wellness voodoo. All hail Goop.

Dear Ms. Henderson-Smythe,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Goop Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only students with the highest qualifications are admitted each year. The selection committee was particularly impressed with your kale porridge detox recipe, as well as your January 2018 blog post, “Ayurvedic Meditations for Cathartic Tooth Whitening.”

All students are expected to conform to dress code. As such, you will be required at all times to wear a taupe-toned mulberry silk cape which may be purchased at Madame Mildington’s Capes For All Occasions. (Or Barney’s.) Please note that ponchos and dupioni silk are no longer accepted alternatives.

All first-year students must procure several general compulsory texts:

• The Standard Book of Holistic Balderdash by Melinda Crookshark
• The Dark Forces: Protecting Yourself Against Genetically Modified Produce by Argus Stitch
• A Beginner’s Guide to Craniosacral Dry-Needling Organic Mummification by Phylindrica Waffleton
• Fantastic Beets and Where to Find them by Toad Salamander

Please find the enclosed course schedule. Any scheduling conflicts must be immediately submitted in expressive typography to the Headmistress.

Classes for First Year Students:
Asian Mushrooms for Tea and Feminine Hygiene
Introduction to Sarah Jessica Parker’s Book Club
Nanny Language for Conversational Communication
Zodiac Charts for Real Estate Investing
Self-Care for French Bulldogs (with instructor permission)

First year students are eligible to take an optional elective. Please select from a) Edible Vitamin Dusts & Cruciferous Vegetable Aromatherapies, b) Urban Lumberjack Fashion, or c) Ancient Wellness Podcasts of the Early 21st Century.

Additional Equipment:

• One standard size stainless steel Instant Pot (a Japanese donabe may be permissible) for potions and serums.
• One bundle of organic sage for intermittent smudging of common spaces and luxury nap yurts (Laotian sage is preferred; other communist state-produced sage will be tolerated).
• One calfskin Sonia Rykiel Spring 2018 lined tote with dedicated smoothie compartment.

We anticipate a peacock with your response soon.

Sincerely,

Tamara (pronounced TUEH-mauahr-hauouh) Adele Merriweather-Boppington

Headmistress

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]]> https://theestablishment.co/bad-advice-on-treasonous-american-women-who-worship-british-royalty-4a317180a5c1/ Tue, 20 Feb 2018 23:34:43 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=2988 Read more]]> Women are dim-witted fools who will cotton on to anything shiny because they are too dumb to know the difference between fantasy and reality.

By The Bad Advisor

“Today is my dad’s birthday. We all forgot . . . again.

I have asked him numerous times to just provide a reminder. I always give everyone a heads-up before my birthday — it’s a courtesy as everyone is so busy nowadays.

So I got a midday ‘joking’ email about how no one wished him a happy birthday. I feel guilty, but this could all be avoided if he just gave his forgetful family a little warning instead of playing this game every year. Thoughts?”

—From “I Forgot . . . Again” via Carolyn Hax, Washington Post, 6 February 2018

Dear I Forgot,

If only there were some mechanism by which we could visually measure the annual passage of time, broken up into smaller increments — say, 12 allotments of, I don’t know, 30 days or so? — that would enable us to mark important occasions such that we could plan for them before the very moment of their occurrence. What a wonder that would be! Instead, we will simply have to rely on each individual person to remember indefinitely and exhaustively which of life’s milestones are important to which people and how far ahead those people need to be apprised of the coming anniversary of the aforementioned milestones, literally the only way to have any knowledge whatsoever of the day that anything happens, ever. It’s a shame that your father is personally holding you and the rest of the world back from developing another system of measuring time, but obviously he just loves this great annual game!

Bad Advice On Employing A Sexual Harasser To Teach Your Child

“My son, Steven, and daughter-in-law, Julia, are expecting their first child and our first grandchild next month. I had what I thought was a good relationship with Julia, but I find myself devastated. Julia has decided only Steven and her mother will be allowed in the delivery room when she gives birth. I was stunned and hurt by the unfairness of the decision and tried to plead with her and my son, but Julia says she ‘wouldn’t feel comfortable’ with me there. I reminded her that I was a nurse for 40 years, so there is nothing I haven’t seen. I’ve tried to reason with Steven, but he seems to be afraid of angering Julia and will not help. I called Julia’s parents and asked them to please reason with their daughter, but they brusquely and rather rudely got off the phone. I’ve felt nothing but heartache since learning I would be banned from the delivery room. Steven told me I could wait outside and I would be let in after Julia and the baby are cleaned up and ‘presentable.’ Meanwhile, Julia’s mother will be able to witness our grandchild coming into the world. It is so unfair.

I’ve always been close to my son, but I no longer feel valued. I cannot bring myself to speak to Julia. I’m being treated like a second-class grandmother even though I’ve never been anything but supportive and helpful. How can I get them to see how unfair and cruel their decision is?”

— From “Second Class Grandma” via “Dear Prudence,” Slate, 5 February 2018

Dear Second Class Grandma,

Who can call herself “Grandma” who has not personally witnessed, with her own grandmotherly eyes, the progressive dilation of the cervix that is to produce the wee babe she will know as grandchild? What charlatan would take the name “Grandma” if she failed to be within 36 inches of the crowning blood-soaked noggin of her spawn’s spawn? Since the dawn of time, all grandmothers have been within spraying distance of errantly projectile afterbirth, and you and only you are being excluded in this way. It is appalling that your son thinks so little of you that he does not long for his mother to be as close as possible to his wife’s naked, heaving body as she produces this child for you. After all, you are a nurse!

Pregnancy looks beautiful on many women, but obviously it has turned Julia into a self-absorbed cow who believes she should have full control over who surrounds her during one of the most intense and potentially vulnerable moments of her life. Would that she weren’t so selfishly preoccupied with her own meaningless bullshit surrounding bringing a human life into the world and instead could see the incredible opportunity she has to show her respect for you, in the form of her whole entire vagina. Alas, this egotistical woman can’t see past the end of her own baby-nourishing bellybutton to the person at the center of this new family: You.

The only recourse now is to take this over Steven and Julia’s self-obsessed heads to the doctor or administrator in charge of hospital policy and confirm that there’s no rule against having two children in the delivery room.

“I’d like your opinion on a relationship question — but not the typical kind that you get. It’s about the relationship between Americans and British royalty.

Why is it that so many Americans, especially women, are obsessed with those British royals? We fought a war to throw off the oppression of privileged people like them. A couple of decades later, they sent their army to attack us and burn much of our capital. I have no problem with our being friendly to the British people, but monarchy reeks of slavery and imperialism. What do you think? Personally, I blame Walt Disney!”

—From “Paul in Sonora” via “Dear Annie,” Creators.com, 18 February 2018

Dear Paul,

Women are dim-witted fools who will cotton on to anything shiny because they are too dumb to know the difference between fantasy and reality. (Men, of course, would never indulge such an interest because they are very smart and their use of Axe body spray creates a kind of herd immunity to the manipulations of late capitalism.) Sadly in the case of British royalty, American women’s wholesale dipshittery in the face of anything wearing a hoop skirt and a crown also results in a widespread lack of patriotism, making American women an especially degenerate class of traitors to this great country, where slavery and colonization never had a home, and where everyone has always had exactly the same rights and exactly the same access to those rights forever.

A bank of words is provided, but — as with your degrees in Anthropology and Environmental Science — some may not be used.

flickr / Alex France

By Clancy Tripp

Test Directions:

You will have 95 minutes to complete this exam. Additional time will not be provided; we feel we’ve been more than generous. The test administrator will give you periodic updates as to the remaining time. He will also provide updates on the rate your fertility decreases with each passing minute.

You may use a calculator as needed. May we suggest the TI-84 graphing calculator you insisted you needed to practice for the LSAT for which you’ve ostensibly been studying for the past three or so years?

All answers must be written inside the test booklet. Answers written outside the text booklet or as a tell-all ThoughtCatalog think piece about how your urban tribe is your true family will not be scored.

Name (un-truncated and sans heart above the “i”): ___________________.

True/False:

_______ That bump on your left ankle is cancer or might one day be cancer if you don’t get it checked out right away.

_______ Jury duty, like washing colors separately from whites and not mixing beer and antibiotics, is optional.

_______ You were removed from our health insurance on your 26th birthday; when you try to open a new policy, you will find that both “night blindness” and “having a uterus” count as preexisting conditions and so will be denied health insurance.

________ There is currently a typo on your resume. It’s under the “High School Extracurriculars” section. This section should not exist.

________ You’re going to really rethink that “Bernie or Bust” badge on your Herschel backpack when you discover how big of a bite Democratic Socialism takes out of your local, family-run bookstore paycheck.

Fill In The Blank:

A bank of words is provided, but — as with your degrees in Anthropology and Environmental Science — some may not be used.

Word Bank: avocado toast, flirting with the idea of joining scientology, air conditioning, airline miles, 493–19–3746 (probably), CV, actively and profusely bleeding, gelateria, parents, guarantors.

1) __________ is not a human right, it costs money.

2) The word “borrow” implies that something will be returned after use. Therefore, you cannot “borrow” my ________________. (There may be multiple answers).

3) Please do not call me after 10:00 pm unless you are ___________________.

4) Ask not what your ____________ can do for you, ask what you can do for your _________________.

5) Your social security number is ________________________.

Multiple Choice:

Circle the correct answer. Make no stray marks. Adopt no stray deli kittens.

1) Which of the following describes your projected career path in the next five years?

a. Rack up massive credit card debt for courses to become an instructor at Yoga to the People.

b. Invent an app that markets itself as “The Uber of _______________.”

c. Work in a glorified sweatshop that exclusively produces BuzzFeed clickbait.

d. Do Teach For America and/or go to graduate school to buy time.

2) Which of the following can you claim as a dependent on your taxes?
[Hint: taxes are a portion of the money you earn that go to the government to provide for common resources. For example, taxes are what paid for the firefighters who came to your apartment last year after you ‘cooked a little couscous.’]

a. Your pet fish, in birth/death order, Fido 1, Fido 2, Fido 3, and Phoenix The Risen

b. Your gigapet

c. The James Bond playing cards your Tinder date left behind

d. A human grandbaby that we could hold in our very own arms before we descend into the depths of old age and arthritis

3) What were your parents doing at your age?

a. Dying of dysentery

b. Catfishing their upstairs neighbor in the hopes of creating something quirky to talk about at their fifteen year high school reunion

c. Reading “articles” on how to set up a 401(k) made up entirely of Real Housewives of Atlanta GIFs

d. Settling for the person we were dating at the time and working a tolerable job in marketing so we could afford to raise a child who would one day describe us in her Women in Psychology seminar as “pathologically supportive.”

Short-Answer Essays:

1) Suppose a parent were to tell their child to “Pursue your dreams, we will always support you.” Is the word “financially” present anywhere in that sentence? If not, why not? Explain how the presence or absence of “financially” changes the meaning of the sentence.

2) Imagine you received an Apple TV box thing last Christmas from your child. How would you explain to someone how to hook it up to Netflix in the sitting room so someone could watch their cooking shows? Please make sure all diagrams are to scale and include passwords.

3) Pretend you are writing letter to a potential employer detailing relevant work experience and skills. Remove all references to the transformative experience you had in the EDM tent at Coachella. Add references. Double-check that you have not been arrested for smoking a joint in a public park with any of your references. Replace aforementioned reference with your father because he has a different last name and maybe they won’t notice. Check letter for spelling and grammar errors. Check letter for barbeque sauce stains. Breathe in. Breathe out. For the love of God, submit the damn letter.

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]]> https://theestablishment.co/bad-advice-on-entitled-delinquent-angry-grandfathers-dad21df43844/ Tue, 30 Jan 2018 23:47:35 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=3101 Read more]]>

Welcome to our latest Bad Advice column! Stay tuned every Tuesday for more terrible guidance based on actual letters.

By The Bad Advisor

“One of the perks provided by my workplace is a paid day off on your birthday (or the day after if it falls on a weekend or holiday) provided by the firm and not taken from your own vacation days, and a gift card which works at several restaurants in our city. Once a month, a cake is also provided at lunch for everyone as an acknowledgement of everyone who has a birthday that month.

There is an employee on my team who was born in a leap year on February 29. Since she only has a birthday every four years, she does not get a day off or a gift card and is not one of the people the cake acknowledges. She has complained about this and is trying to push back so she is included.

The firm doesn’t single out or publicly name anyone that has a birthday. People take the day off and that is it, nothing is said. The gift card is quietly enclosed with their pay stub. The cake is put in the lunchroom without fanfare for anyone that wants some. There is no email or card that goes around and no celebrating at work. If there was I could see her point, but since everything is done quietly/privately, she is not losing out on anything. My manager feels her complaints are petty and she needs to be more professional. I agree with him.

She has only worked here for two years and was hired straight out of university. I want to tell her that she should be focusing on work issues and not something as small as a birthday. If she had a complaint about a work issue it would be different. How do I frame my discussion with her without making her feel bad or like she is trouble? Her work is good and I am sure the complaint is just borne of inexperience and I don’t want to penalize her for it.”

— Via “Ask A Manager,” 29 January 2018

Typically we could blame this kind of petty complaint on the average millennial’s overblown sense of entitlement, but since your employee is only five or six years old by your reckoning, there must be something else going on. You say this employee’s work is good, but is it really good, or is it just good for the average kindergartener? Have you taken the proper steps to protect yourself from potential violations of child labor laws? I realize that’s not what you’re asking about, but you’ve really left yourself out in the open here and I want to make sure all your bases are covered. If your employee is driving a company car while too young for a license, or attending work-related events where alcohol is served, it’s likely you could be liable for any related accidents.

But to the matter at hand: Your employee is fixated, as any child would be, on her own warped sense of fairness. Because she ages at a different rate than other humans, she simply can’t assume that she’ll be treated the same way as other humans — even in the workplace. Some of your employees happen to have an annual birthday, and they need a day off every year to grapple with their speedily approaching mortality and a small gift to soothe the encroaching nightmare of death. This Leap Day worker wants the same benefits these others get, when she has approximately one-quarter the need for them! Patiently explain to her that she’s hurting her career by insisting that the laws of space and time are not uniquely bent in her favor, as if she is somehow being denied the days off and meal perks that other employees are afforded simply because she has been denied the days off and meal perks that other employees are afforded. Of course, by the time she’s old enough to understand this, you’ll have gone to your extremely businesslike grave. But don’t worry — the world will remember you as an eminently reasonable and un-petty manager who died denying a wee child a Bloomin’ Onion, as any experienced career person would do.

Bad Advice On Grammar-Policing Gender-Neutral Pronouns

“I have three grandchildren who address me as ‘Mr.,’ and not as ‘Grandpa.’ Although it is true that I was not in their lives growing up, I was not a bad or cruel influence. A few years ago, I sent a Christmas gift (a large check) to one of these grandchildren, and I quickly received a nice thank you card, but it was addressed ‘Dear Mr. Smith.’

I was so angry that I never sent another gift and haven’t heard from them since. I am 87 years old. How do I become ‘Grandpa’ before it is too late?”

— From “Want to Be Grandpa” via “Ask Amy,” Washington Post, 21 January 2018

Dear Want to Be Grandpa,

If people who’ve never been told to call you “grandpa” don’t automatically call you “grandpa” after receiving a large cash gift, perhaps it is not really worth having them in your life. But then again, what exactly is family for, if not silently stewing in aggrieved rage at people who failed to read your mind one time? You may already be “grandpa” at heart, if not in name.

“My brother and his wife recently had their second child through induced labor. On the delivery day, my mother asked what she could do to help. My brother asked her to go to his home, which is an hour away, sweep and vacuum the house, change the sheets and do the laundry because they didn’t have time.

I feel it was extremely inappropriate. Picking up diapers and making sure the bassinet has clean sheets are acceptable requests; cleaning the house is not. My mother wasn’t bothered by it, but I am appalled. Am I wrong?”

— From “STUCK IN THE MIDDLE” via “Dear Abby,” 23 November 2017

Dear Stuck in the Middle,

My dear, you are not at all wrong! The correct course of action in this situation would have been to engage in a loud and protracted performance of offense on your mother’s behalf, diverting the attention from your self-absorbed brother and sister-in-law, who were so seemingly obsessed with bringing life into this world that they couldn’t be bothered to assign your mother a task from the widely known “list of acceptable chores for grandmothers.” You should not have stood by for even one moment while your mother expressed her extreme unbotheredness at helping her children in this way — no indeed, only a fit to rival the cry of a newborn would have put right what your sister-in-law put wrong. Your family should have been rent asunder by this unthinkable offense; instead, they are ploughing through as if people are just allowed to decide what they want to do or be mad about or give two shits about, instead of engaging in a showy production about laundry.

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]]> https://theestablishment.co/bad-advice-on-berating-your-fat-friends-parenting-skills-4cb6ee4d6921/ Tue, 09 Jan 2018 23:44:04 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=2553 Read more]]> Welcome to our latest Bad Advice column featuring terrible guidance based on actual letters!

By The Bad Advisor

“My wife and I are on a friendly basis with a couple who have two children under the age of 10.

Both of these adults are seriously overweight. The mother has stated, in fact, that she knows she is a ‘big girl,’ which (of course) is her business.

The problem is that the bad eating habits of the parents are beginning to affect the children. Both of the youngsters are now also overweight, though not yet obese.

We are very close to the grandparents, who are trying to convince the overweight mom to be more careful when feeding the children, but their efforts have been in vain. The overweight mom tells them simply to mind their own business.

I’m inclined to tell the obese parents that they must help the children to keep their weight down. Such a remark will cause a major kerfuffle, but I don’t care. What do you think?”

— From “Want to Intervene” via “Ask Amy,” Washington Post, 7 January 2018

Dear Want to Intervene,

Fat people are always an unsightly bother to those who have the upstanding moral judgment and good sense to be thin, but a fat person who is not sufficiently ashamed of their size is a problem of another order. Your problem — and all fat people are everyone else’s problem — is twofold: First, this fat lady has failed to apologize profusely and constantly to you personally and the world at large for the size of her body, which you have no choice but to look at, contemplate, and analyze during every waking moment.

Second, this fat lady has already resisted her loved ones’ generous offers of assistance in developing shame around her body. So you’re fighting an uphill battle to begin with — luckily, you’re not fat, which means you can succeed at anything because you do not occupy more than an arbitrarily and culturally designated acceptable quantity of mass on earth, and are therefore a capable and good person.

Probably what’s happened is that this fat lady hasn’t been demeaned and degraded by the right people yet, and you’re just the person to bring a little big-boned beration into her life. She may not realize that if she is left to raise her children as she sees fit, they may turn out to be a size which displeases you, a fate that can only be avoided by your swift interference. It is essential that these children maintain a weight that is acceptable to a person who they may or may not know exists, lest they fail to maintain a weight that is acceptable to a person who they may or may not know exists.

You’re right not to mind causing a kerfuffle — shame and judgment is a 100% sure path to forcing fat people into thinness, and thin people never have any problems, experience heartache, fall ill, or die. If you don’t tell this family how fat they are, who will? The world at large? An annually cyclical litany of New Year-related diet panics touted as essential tools of self-care? A beauty mandate driven by culturally obligatory fat hatred, reinforced in almost every iteration of any public portrayal of a human body? Kerfuff away! If these people insist on being fat, you can at least insist on your god-given right to spend your eternal thin life mad about it.

Bad Advice On The Etiquette Of Boning Your Daughter’s Best Friend

“A few years ago, my husband planted a fig tree and cared for it like a baby through the cold Philadelphia winters. Finally, there is bounty! Every day, he brings in ripe figs and places them on the windowsill. But the crop is much bigger than our needs. When the figs begin to rot and I ask him if he’s going to throw them away, he looks heartsick. May I throw them out and pretend we ate them?”

—From “ANONYMOUS” via “Social Q’s,” New York Times, 19 October 2017

Dear Anonymous,

Throw the figs out and pretend you ate them! It’s literally the only thing to do with extra food, a strange and confusing phenomenon for which humanity has not yet developed a good solution. What a shame that there is nothing to do with fresh fruit besides just leaving it out on a windowsill to rot. If only the techniques and technologies that exist in fantastical works of science fiction — refrigeration, preservation, literally just sharing your extra shit with other people who could use it — were not relegated to pages of incomprehensible fancy.

“My wife and I are in our 60s. We have been married for some time and are very open-minded. She keeps insisting that she does not remember her first sexual experience. I would be curious to understand why in the world, unless someone was inebriated, the person would not recall this huge milestone.”

— From “BEWILDERED IN THE WEST” via “Dear Abby,” 3 January 2018

Dear Bewildered,

It’s difficult to say precisely, as it’s statistically unlikely that a writer of internet advice columns remembers your wife’s first sexual experience any better than she does. Best of luck getting to the bottom of this quandary, hope you someday manage to find the one of 7.44 billion people on earth who can help you answer it.