We’ve lost the plot. I'm sure you agree, though we might've reached the same conclusion by different paths. See, I'm thinking about how we've lost all sense of context, and you can't follow any storyline without context: what led to this point, what the goal was, why the choice was made, all that.

We all know the cliched stoner thoughts. Have you ever looked at your hands, man? No, like really looked at your hands…to aliens we are the aliens…stuff like that. It's relatable, because we've all had these ideas, high or not.

A friend recently told me that when he posts cranky or angry things, strangers slide into his DMs, and tell him shit like keep your head down; just smile and wave. That's a real message from a stranger! Is this what happens when women post opinions, he asked, and it’s a fair question.

Online debates entrench opinions rather than change them. Don't believe me? Google it. Or, take a moment to ask yourself when you last had your opinion changed by online debate. I’ll wait.

“People like personal stories. It's time to talk about your comedy journey,” Andrew said; and he said it so confidently -- comedy journey -- like I'm really doing something, going somewhere.

“Comparison is the thief of joy.” That’s a quote from Theodore Roosevelt (father of teddy bears, but that's another story). It's a cliché for the good reason that it's timelessly true, but even if we all know the words, we fall victim to this brain glitch.

Author Tom Robbins died this past Sunday. No, not the actor, that's Tim Robbins. I'm talking about Tom, the author of a bunch of great books including Even Cowgirls Get The Blues (skip the movie), Another Roadside Attraction, and Half Asleep in Frog Pyjamas, the only novel I've ever read that's written in second person.

A therapist once told me that I don't have to answer every question someone asks me. It threw me off. But I don't have anything to hide, I said, my face scrunching up like when I try to do math.

The motto of 2025 is, “in this economy?!” Granted, when said jokingly, it never gets old (“I'm falling in love” “in this economy?”), but it keeps coming up non-ironically in more and more rooms, with a growing tone of desperation.

This past Monday was Blue Monday, the most depressing-est day of the year. The mid-winter blah-day, the point in winter when even those without seasonal affective disorder start to feel the weight of the long winter.