Another day, another character in the headlines that it would appear quite literally everybody else is intimately familiar with except for me, so now I gotta learn more about him. May our flags fly at half-mast for Joe Kent’s promised 15. I hadn’t hardly a ghost of an idea of who Viktor Orbán was say a month ago. Sure as hell ain’t know of him back in 2010, when he was POPULARLY elected. And yet here I am, supposed to be having opinions, reactions, predictions… Or at minimum be able to recite a Xeet that I read. ...

For better or for wurst, I find myself as I darn-near always do motivated by some deflective combination of unseriousness and humor, choosing the subject of this post almost entirely on account of the pun in the title, which occurred to me on a whim earlier today. No doubt, my role as the youngest has been on my mind for the better part of half a decade, motivated by a latent “ill-at-easeness” I’ve felt with said role. And much like my previous post, I thought it compelling to run the following premise by my dear friend Claude: “What does it mean to be the youngest sibling in a family from a Jungian lens?” ...

It’s Easter Sunday and I find myself writing at a Muslim-owned coffee shop. The irony is not at all lost on me. I should acknowledge upfront that I’m writing about Christian ideas with the theological depth of someone who ain’t exactly creased the spine of a Bible in many a moon, and it would take only the slightest of pushback from friends of mine to expose just how out of my depth I am. Nevertheless, I retreat to the tried and true defense of the old saying: you can’t read the label from inside the bottle. ...