Yesterday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, a holiday we celebrated by purchasing twenty-four pieces of supermarket fried chicken and a varied assortment of 40oz malt liquor bottles. I like to pretend that this act was committed in the name of some bizarre social justice, lambasting the racist iconography and the absurdity of its existence. Truth be told it was more an excuse to eat greasy chicken and get unreasonably drunk.

Tell the children all is well. We have not yet succumbed to our weakness.