And how exactly are you going to “fight” for us, you feckless weasels?

Don’t even dare to believe for even a second that we’ll have forgotten your submissive capitulation today when the Democrats come around next year begging for donations to fund their 2026 campaigns. Weaklings.

Probably because she wasn't my supervisor.

I used to joke that it was fun watching once decent co-workers who had been promoted into management leave flakes from the dried-up husks of their souls on the carpet as they walked past.

I'm discreetly not mentioning any names, mind you, but...

I think I never encountered Tammy. Or if I did, she made no impression.

And how is Hobson doing these days?

The English language has not yet developed enough for me to adequately express how much I enjoyed reading this. I may be facing the rest of the day with a song in my heart due to your words. So… thanks.

I kinda love your grandmother (in a non-creepy way, I hope) from that anecdote alone. You’ve just made an internet stranger’s morning.

I was deliberately misunderstanding. No apology necessary.

Your mother referred to you as "the girl" the same way Homer Simpson calls Bart "The Boy?"

Winning even more.

You win.

And, apropos of absolutely nothing, except maybe being trivial, I used to manage the bookstore at L.A. Southwest College just down Imperial Hwy from Imperial's address.

THE THREE LIVES OF THOMASINA is a memorable film, especially when you're a cat crazy kid. Easy to forget less memorable also rans.