During rush hour on cramped public transit, the polite thing to do is remove your backpack and hold it at your side. Also, stick a piece of gum in your mouth. None of us deserve your morning coffee or dry afternoon breath.

I fully understand I am signing up for something that will likely offer as a return, many self-righteous kicks to my junk, public shaming, little remuneration and probably additional junk punches for a closer. For example, I am sure I will rue the day I write about Al Franken, but you know, fuck it, I’m definitely going to write about Franken.

Of course, at the breakneck speed this country is barreling toward an inescapable permanent shithole event horizon, perhaps that article will be met with an “Al who?”

If Disney wants to make up for any wrongdoings, it can stop making Prates of the Caribbean movies.