Nothing feels better than being right. Even if you win a bet on which day you’ll die, at least there’ll be a sense of accomplishment to mitigate the pain. Unfortunately, I’m usually wrong and my soon-to-be-married-person absolutely loves repeating her catchphrase “god you’re such an idiot” with feverish consistency. I might not ever remember where I left my keys, if I closed the refrigerator door, or what I was supposed to get at the grocery store, but I found at least one thing I can write into the “win” column: Getting one of those fancy new digital assistants is akin to inviting Big Brother into your sanctuary.
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Budweiser is the kind of beer you drink when you don’t want to impress someone, or you just got dumped and need to take eighty cans to the head on the cheap, or you have off on a Tuesday and you’ve already been to the grocery store and finished the laundry and it’s 11:30 in the morning. It’s there, it’s acceptable, and it quiets the voices for a few hours. But this summer, Anheuser-Busch will try to climb up another wrung of the social ladder from “something to puke out” to “the imbibeable embodiment of the entire fucking country.”
That’s right. The Budweiser label will be usurped by an even more recognizable name: America