Victims Are Not To Blame

Victims Are Not To Blame

Last week, my wife went to book club.

As occasionally happens when she (read: anyone) gets together with her friends, the night got away from her and she was out later than she’d anticipated. So I texted her for an update and learned that, due to a series of mishaps with the subway, she’d ended up far afield from where she wanted to be.

Enlightened Nice Guy that I am, I got irritated and scolded my wife for not having taken a car and for putting herself in harm’s way. After all, it was after dark, and SHE IS A WOMAN!

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Arming Teachers: This Is the Best We Can Do?

Arming Teachers: This Is the Best We Can Do?

A couple of weekends ago while we were visiting my parents in Connecticut, my oldest brother made a cameo after work.

He’s a sixth-grade teacher and he’d just finished his school day, so he stopped by our parents’ house to say hi to his nephews and grade some quizzes before heading home. I was working at the kitchen table and amidst my typing and his red-pen scribbling, I suddenly heard him say, “98! Way to go, Mia!”

He was genuinely happy that she had done well on his quiz.

Teachers are amazing. Arming them is idiotic.

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Top 10 Reasons Why I Love My Son (Part Two)

Top 10 Reasons Why I Love My Son (Part Two)

I don’t do sappy and sentimental. It’s just not me.

Instead, I mock, affectionately, and sarcastically, and honestly too. This can lead to communication breakdowns with all manner of people, from friends and family to coworkers, waitresses, even strangers. When you rely on sarcasm, it makes being sincere twice as difficult, both because you’re less comfortable with it and because no one believes you!

When it comes to my kids, and this blog, I occasionally take a break from myself and get all into my feelings. To make sure people buy it, I typically do it on their birthdays.

Today is The Hammer’s second birthday. Brace yourself.

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“Not All Men” Is Meaningless and Counterproductive

“Not All Men” Is Meaningless and Counterproductive

One night in college, a friend summoned me to her room.

I’d been interested in her for some time – I wanted to be “more than friends” – but up to that point, things had remained chaste. It was late, we’d both been out separately, doing whatever it is we’d been doing, and when I got to her room, she was clearly drunk.

Twenty years later, I still remember how I felt that night.

This is why “NotAllMen” doesn’t matter…

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