Happy Friday, Gentle Readers,
I pray this missive finds you well. Since this will be the last WPS before Thanksgiving, I want to take a moment to thank everyone who reads this little feature, which will enter its third year on 12/31. For those who have been with me since the start, thank you. For those who may be new to this column, welcome.
Writing the WPS is one of the highlights of my week. I vow to continue to drink wine in defense of free speech as long as my liver permits. I know I have been a little remiss in the column department lately, but since the morning after the election, our business has been steadily picking up steam — as in that very morning. It’s almost as if people have more confidence in the economy now. Go figure.
Quit yer bitchin’ and eat the chicken.
Back when I worked in a cubicle farm, every so often, the boss would spring for lunch for the company. It was a nice gesture, and I never complained. Free food is free food. I was always the guy who would go up and get a plate or sandwich, and then after everyone else had a chance, would scoop up the leftovers. Alas, in the era of #MeFirst, Last, and Only, a free lunch doesn’t cut…
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