Society and Culture

How to Destress in a Time of Massive Anxiety and Hate

How to Destress in a Time of Massive Anxiety and Hate

I knew something was wrong the moment she answered.

“Your father had a stroke,” my mother explained. “He’s in the hospital now. The doctors are trying to find out more.”

The memory of my grandfather rushed to mind — a man I’d only ever known to be in a wheelchair from a stroke he’d had years before I was born. We used to watch Wonder Woman and eat popsicles together. He’d get pissed because I thought it was funny to hold the popsicle just out of his reach. It was a dick move, even for a four-year-old, and the sudden image of him reminded me just how helpless he could feel at times. It made me wonder if my father would suffer as he did.

Three days later, my wife received a similar call.

“I’m going to the hospital,” her mother explained. “I’m not feeling well, and I think there’s something wrong with my heart.”

As it turned out, my mother-in-law had…

An Open Letter to One Internet Shamer (Who Really Pissed Me Off)

An Open Letter to One Internet Shamer (Who Really Pissed Me Off)

I’ve got a message for the pissed-off suburbanite who posted an emotionally charged and personally-identifying Facebook story about a terrible person speeding through our neighborhood with reckless abandon.

You are the problem. You.

Not the person who was allegedly going 15 over in a school zone.

No.

If what you say is true, a local cop should serve that someone a ticket as punishment for their mistake and to pump a bit of funding into our sheriff’s coffers.

But that so-and-so was speeding, probably like you have too. It’s just that you happened to eat an extra bowl of bitch-flakes this morning, giving you some holier-than-thou complex that made you the judge, jury, and executioner.

So congratulations. You win the Internet shaming award. And you, being the problem, should change your ways.

Oh, and while you’re at it, take down that picture of their vehicle, or at least blur out their license plate.

You’re acting like a two-year-old, and shaming doesn’t work.

Here’s why.