Two Jews and a Muslim from Bangladesh walk into a bar. An Irish bar, aptly named Jamieson's. And that's where the stereotypes end. And so there really is no punchline. Or even a joke.
But there were lots of laughs.
Meet Jeff Gelberg, author and proprietor of the wildly popular blog rotationandbalance.blogspot.com. And Mahmud Hussain, art director extraordinaire who often goes by the name Moody. Not all my friends come from the world of advertising. But many do.
Which seems very natural to me because we'd all spend so much time bullshitting, thinking, more bullshitting, and occasionally coming up with ideas that could change the trajectory of a Fortune 500 company. Perhaps turning them into a Fortune 100 company.
My friend Matty often refers to this as 'false camaraderie.' But I disagree. In retrospect there's nothing false about it. The colleagues I had/have from the ad world are some of the brightest, creative and empathetic people I've ever met in my life. And that even includes Neal -- a little inside joke among my Team One buds.
It was only natural that the laughter and joy we all shared within the cubicle farms, and sometimes the Long Tables of Mediocrity™, would spill out into after-hours socializing.
And so it was great to sit down, break bread and enjoy a noontime beer with Jeff and Moody. When we weren't kibbutzing or leering at the women passing by on Culver Blvd or badmouthing past shitty, self aggrandizing bosses who never met a vodka bottle that didn't need emptying, we turned our attention to the current situation 'Murica finds itself in.
I hate to to turn the tone of this post dark, but I must.
Moody had been traveling abroad to visit his mother in Hong Kong. On his return to our once-great nation, he told us how his blood pressure began to rise as he approached the US Custom's Gate at Tom Bradley Terminal. He had wisely turned off his Face ID on his phone. And deleted any apps that would leave a trace of any anti-Trump sentiment.
If the Feds knew he was friends with yours truly, he could've found himself on a plane to El Salvador. Or worse.
I almost choked on my once-a-month cheeseburger knowing we have reached an unprecedented level of such UnAmerican neo-fascism. Now I can feel my chest throbbing and my elevated blood pressure. If my MethHead neighbor's dog starts barking anytime soon, I could be needing an ambulance.
Do not be fooled by the smiles in the photo above. We, all of us including the naive, uninformed caucasian crowd who say they love America, are on a rapidly increasing Death Spiral. Foisted upon us by a senile, bigoted, silver spoon convicted felon with a vomit-inducing appetite for underage women.
Release the Epstein Files.
"Check, please."
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