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Dear Elite, Of all the subelite shit that Christians cling to (western society’s foundational values, conservative social norms, a divine power greater than elitism, etc.), the historical accuracy of the Bible has got to be the absolute dumbest, and never is this particular form of idiocy more on display than Easter season. I mean the
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April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. T.S. Elliott’s The Wasteland Dear Elite, Signs of spring are everywhere. The longer, warmer days; the birds singing; the flowers blooming; like sirens along the rocky shore they call to us, drawing us
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Dear Elite, The worst part about chronic pain is the lingering doubt that it’s actually all in your head, that you’re causing it, that your suffering is not some unfair punishment sent down from Randomness above; it’s something you’re doing to yourself; it’s all your fault. Yes, the absence of anyone to blame, the inculpability
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Dear Elite, If I didn’t know that school administrators and healthcare professionals were actual heroes, I might find them pretty fucking annoying. I might even let them know about it. I might say things like “I have a week to sign the reenrollment contract? It says I will agree with the administration under penalty of
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Sometimes when you get everything that you want, the things that you have become boring, and rather than enjoy them, you’re always thinking about what to get next. Maybe it’s a new toy you want, or maybe a game, or maybe it’s an outfit or a costume; however, once you have it, it isn’t quite
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Dear Elite, At 2:30 a.m. on Wednesday morning I woke up with a fairly intense pain in the center of my chest. The feeling was not one to which I’m unaccustomed; there is some sort of ligament there attaching at the sternum that has taken to popping; it’s a musculoskeletal phenomenon, not a cardiac emergency;
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“ . . . for he who always hopes for the best becomes old, deceived by life, and he who is always prepared for the worst becomes old prematurely; but he who has faith, retains eternal youth.” – Soren Kierkegaard Dear Elite, Sometimes the randomness of the universe hatches a series of events that seem
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Well elite, the winter solstice and the shortest days of the year are behind us. Goodbye Christmas/New Year’s depression and angst! We’re on the way to springtime happiness! March Madness! Spring Training! The golf tournament that shall not be named! The only problem is the goddam winter in between and all its mundane every-day-ness. How
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The Raging Elitist 