Never eat an oyster unless there’s an r in the month, except if Labor Day falls at the very beginning of September so the weekend begins at the end of August, and you’re renting a seaside house with a group of friends, though you’re not really that close to them, they’re more Laura’s friends than yours, but you’ve hung out with them a lot in the past so it’s not so uncomfortable—except why is it you’re always the interloper? How come you never have your own group, but are always tagging along with someone else and their perfectly cohesive clique?—and so when you’re all having oysters the first night, you don’t want to be the one person who’s like, “Oh, it’s still August, it doesn’t have an r in the name, we shouldn’t be eating oysters yet,” because you’ll come off as a prude who’s afraid to eat oysters just because of some old saying, and everyone else will think, “Why is he even here, he’s not even friends with us, Laura always brings these weirdos along,” and they’ll get angry at Laura even, and she’ll pick up on this since she’s pretty emotionally intelligent, and then she’ll resent you, and so now your one real friend in the house is also against you, and you’ve got two more full nights and days after this with these people before you can leave.
LEST WE FORGET THE HORRORS
A catalog of Trump’s worst cruelties, collusions, corruptions, and crimes.
Also available as a free downloadable PDF.
March 6, 2014
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