As the green grass always says,
the secret to a long life is…

Hey Mama, I know a pack of starving zombies is rapidly approaching our house, but I’d like to try putting my socks on by myself today.

I can see what you’re thinking: Why the socks, why today? I believe it was Dr. Maria Montessori who said, “It is necessary that the child teach himself, and then—”

Big reaction! Do you need the Calm Down Corner? Some belly breaths?

New issue arriving August 20th, 2026!

Those dishes in the sink will not get done, so you may as well stop asking about them. And if you dare raise the subject again I will continue to reply using passive constructions, as the dishes exist in a realm that has nothing to do with me, though relatively speaking they are beneath me. That should explain damn-near everything, but given your countenance, I feel obliged to elaborate.

We meet in dank basements under the light of exposed bulbs that glow so weakly, they remind us of beacons in a fog. We meet in quiet parks, where the only others present are women pushing baby carriages. If a real baby occupies the carriage, the woman probably isn’t a law enforcement officer. We meet in the storage rooms of grimy restaurants, where outdated calendars hang between shelves stacked with cans of dehydrated bacon bits. We meet anywhere we won’t be watched.