I love a good media drama. Like a moth to a flame, or perhaps more accurately like a fly to dog poo, I am drawn to it. I check the news multiple times a day. I scoff at outlets that don’t deem it worthy of the front page. I also scoff at outlets that do. A media drama can antagonize me the way Adele disappoints me with her popularity.

The …

While walking to grab coffee, my colleague tells me about the peculiarities of his seventeenth-century hat making ancestors, proud of the genealogical research his dad has done. After work, I google “Trans-Atlantic slave trade”, looking to see if I can spot my father’s generic colonist surname among those who made it back to his island. I can’t, of course.

I wonder how much of a boomer it makes me that I use red hearts regardless of the social context in which I use them.

It’s a cruel God who would end Succession and Ted Lasso in the same calendar year.

Racism is the relief I feel when I’m woken up at 5 by a drunken fight because I see I won’t have to hear any racial slurs from the participants, who are Black.

“Before and after historical calamities are human beings creating themselves and contributing to the larger follow of civilizations.” Enjoying Michael W. Twitty’s Koshersoul.

If you use FigJam extensively enough, eventually you’ll find yourself presenting a board that contains an accidental swastika.