My parents moved into a new house. A ranch house with no second floor. It's a ranch house, but my parents don't live on a ranch. They live in the burbs. The burbs, if you didn't know, are a bubble. I chowed down on a bowl of chicken and potato stew. We talked about what the average American family earns. Earnings! Earrings! Moster dot com. It turns out that I am like 35% of the other Americans, measuring me exclusively in terms of how much $$$ I take home each year. The point I'm trying ot make here is that, if you are a young man about to graduate, it will be impossible for you to avoid talking about jobs when you return home for the holidays, so take a note. I ended my jobs discussion rapidly by saying: "yeah, well, fuck that." And the conversation was over. My dad took me into the basement to show me this phone:
And this bathroom:
And this bar:
If my parents would let me smoke down here, I would move home and take care of them.