They know it intellectually, but they don't understand how tendrilous it is, that it touched so many parts of your daily life.

He's just so damn proud of his baby girl and he wants everyone to know it. And that makes you have a better time too.

When Brooks and Dunn walk up on him sounding like a bad karaoke night, you can see the love and appreciation in his face. You can see the admiration. And it just makes you happy.

Babe Ruth let us see his success in a context that made us feel like he was one of us.

Posty? Yeah, he's the same. He's your drunk uncle who is just having way too much fun at your cousin's wedding. But you know what? He paid for the wedding. He gave everyone an open bar.

No one except baseball fans know who either of those guys were, yet everyone knows Babe Ruth. Why is that?

It's because the Great Bambino played baseball like any of us would have, stumbling to the plate full of hot dogs and beer, with a giant stupid grin and smashed them out of the park.

If an entire industry can only exist through exploitation, maybe it isn't one that should exist at all. Crazy, I know.

But wouldn't it be refreshing if it did?

Let's keep this manufactured outrage going and maybe we'll both boost in the algorithm.

Also, I tried way to hard to turn cishetpatriarchy into a spider pun, but it just wasn't coming.

Listen. I'm not saying *you* can't have a baked potato, or some lovely mash, but personally, when it comes beefsteak dinners *I* prefer the texture pairing of crispy fries.

Sometimes I like leek and potato soup. Especially in the fall. Sometimes the frites turn into home fries the next morning.

Woah. I just wanted a haunted house, not hell on earth.