The World Is Now Your Therapist, So Have a Cheeseburger
Have you seen the new Emo Burger King ad?
I do not love the idea that in an age where nuance, humor, and snark are taken so literally that the perpetual class of whiners will take this as yet another permission to unload their emotional trash on the streets for all to see. Yes, it’s important to avoid stuffing your bad feels down under the sofa like dogshit you can smell but can’t find, but there’s a reason therapy is usually done one-on-one in a private office.
When Ali, Casey, and I were in college down in central Illinois, we lived in this great place just a block off campus. It was situated at the top of a hill overlooking the town smack dab in the middle of Greek Row, snuggled between the Beta and SAE houses—a modest, three-bedroom house with a front porch and back patio, and yard that made it ideal for barbecues and other themed or not themed parties.