Dear Readers,
Here is the thing about America: it is the greatest country on Earth. Hot dogs. Tube socks. The GMC Yukon. These were all things that are invented here. These are just some of the examples of the might of American creativity, passion, and good, ole fashioned braun.
 
Here is the other thing about America: we work too damn hard. In France they get something like 48 weeks of paid vacation. In Denmark they shut down the country for the Pink Power Ranger’s birthday. In Argentina they sleep for 22 hours a day. Every day. Besides on Christmas. Then they get pissed at their children for making them be conscience for the 2.5  hours it takes to open up presents.
 
If there is one, and only one, thing I would change about America it would be the Holiday system. We have less. We need more. Victory over Japan Day. St. Patrick’s Day. The day after the day where we celebrate the anniversary of Teddy Roosevelt losing his eye. Bachelor Finale Day. Today, the day I am writing and/or reminiscing about in this blog post, was the last day of Season 20 of The Bachelor. And I am spending this part of it here, in my office, working my tush off and watching the final episode of Ben H’s wild ride on a Russian website I am displaying on the bottom of my computer screen. Now I know everything about how poor people in the Ukraine live.

This is no way to exist. This is worse than Guantanamo Bay. This, watching The Bachelor at my place of employment, is the exact kind of thing we have charities to stop. But no charity exists for me, other than my own 401K. Thanks a lot Obama.

Dear Readers,
Let me peep a scenario for all of you. It is a cold winters night in St. Louis—the utopian society where everyone is a billionaire—and you are sitting on the couch cuddled up next to your boo, or more likely the dog you treat like a person because you are lonely and smell too bad to be sexually attractive. You both (either dog or gentleman/lady caller) sport a Snuggie unironically 5 years after it was cool to do so and eat chicken fingers out of a GoPlate, licking spilled ranch dressing off of each other’s faces and realizing halfway through the ordeal that GoPlate’s are worthless because you cannot fit a Capri Sun in the middle. You pull out your phones, take a picture, and snapchat it to 29 people who have never once cared what you are doing. You are now a walking advertisement. Welcome to real-life product placement in the year 2016.