NO CATHOLICS, NO COPS, NO GUYS NAMED DAVID.
We all have to play a mental game or two to get thru life, that’s the price paid for being sentient, and nobody’s perfect. But your job can’t be a third wheel. You have to at least like what you do to make bank, or have a modicum of a plan to move on to the next phase of the dream.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”