The beefy white dude with the crew-cut and the FDNY t-shirt digs through the box of buttons at the booth of a friend I'm working for today. The buttons are emblazoned with slogans like "Fuck Trump" and "NOT My President."
"Guess you don't have any 'Fuck Obama' buttons," he says, looking up at me provokingly.
"I'm so sorry," I say, giving him my warmest, kindest smile, which seems to confuse him so badly he walks off.
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One year ago: Good Friday
Two years ago: Facebook Disagreement
Three years ago: This Calls for Wisdom
Four years ago: The Wisdom of Children
Five years ago: Home Is Where You Don't Need to See
Ten years ago: Seriously? Fuck Darth Maul. And Muggers
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