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You watch her as she brushes her hair. She’s humming a song you can’t quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you. She turns. “What do you want for Christmas?” You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. “Nothing, really.” “Nothing?” She crawls into bed and touches your leg. “Are you sure?” Again, you wonder why this person chose you. As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. They’ll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, “What’s wrong?” Stonks only go up. But you don’t.

Biden: Yo- uh, y-you, y-you got the vaccination? Don Lemon: Yeah. Biden: A-Are you... Are you okay? I mean, you seem... no, it works, or you, you know, or, or, or, or the mom and dad, or or, or, or, or the neighbor, or when you... go to church, or when you’re — n-no, I-I-I-I really mean it, there... are trusted interlocutors. Think of the people, if-if your kid wanted to find out whether or not there were — there’s a man on the moon, or, or whatever, you know, something, or, you know, whether those aliens are here or not. You know, who are the people they talk to beyond the kids who love talking about it?

I'm not sure what to do. For my early life, it wasn't a huge deal. I lived in a mostly white family who didn't really care, and I stayed home from school when I was sick. But now that I'm in college, I'm terrified of what it could mean. Doctors won't help me. Every time I've asked, they think I'm making it up and doing it on purpose, and now that I've moved, my doctor is this 6ft tall african-american man. I haven't been to a check-up in over a year. It's causing trouble with school too. The first instance was in chemistry. The professor told me to pass out some bunsen burners from the cabinet to the rest of the students. I got up and opened the cabinet, but it was super dusty inside, and before I could help myself, a huge sneeze forced itself out of my body. "N*GGA!" sounded across the classroom, and I just froze. My cheeks heated up as everyone just stared at me. I quickly said that I needed to go get a tissue and ran from the classroom. I was forced to have a meeting with my professor later, where she was adamant that she wouldn't have that kind of language in her classroom. I tried to explain that it was an accident and I didn't even have a reason to say the n-word while sneezing and gathering bunsen burners, but she was already mad so I think she zeroed in on my word choice and thought that I was inferring that other times I DID have a reason to say it. I didn't get kicked out but nobody wanted to partner with me for the rest of the semester, and I feel like the professor was a bit harsher on test questions. The most recent event happened only yesterday, and I'm terrified of what it could mean. I was in line at the Chick-fil-A in the cafeteria, feeling like shit. I'd been sick for a day or two, and normally I don't go out because of my unique problem, but I was starving and just needed to grab a quick bite. Right as I got up to the counter, I felt a sneeze coming on, and knew I was screwed. Here's the thing. When I'm sick, the issue is 10x worse. The phlegm or something in my throat makes the n-word sound come out with a lower, R-sound at the end instead of the gasp that normally makes the A. So I'm standing there, about to order my 8pc nugget, when I spasm and unleash a full forced "N****R!" across the entire cafeteria. Everybody heard it. Literally everybody. The girl at the counter, who unfortunately was black, just looked so hurt and angry at the same time, not to mention I think I may have sneezed a little on her. I turned and bolted from the cafeteria. I ran straight back to my dorm; I saw a group of guys trying to follow me, but they couldn't get in to my specific dorm building. I recognized a few of them from my chemistry class. I've been in my dorm ever since. I'm terrified of leaving. I'm positive that if they see me again, they'll kick the shit out of me. So that's my problem. I'm not sure how to prove my innocence and I don't think I'll survive another semester at this rate.

Ok, this has been driving me crazy for seven movies now, and I know you're going to roll your eyes, but hear me out: Harry Potter should have carried a 1911. Here's why: Think about how quickly the entire WWWIII (Wizarding-World War III) would have ended if all of the good guys had simply armed up with good ol' American hot lead. Basilisk? Let's see how tough it is when you shoot it with a .470 Nitro Express. Worried about its Medusa-gaze? Wear night vision goggles. The image is light-amplified and re-transmitted to your eyes. You aren't looking at it--you're looking at a picture of it. Imagine how epic the first movie would be if Harry had put a breeching charge on the bathroom wall, flash-banged the hole, and then went in wearing NVGs and a Kevlar-weave stab-vest, carrying a SPAS-12. And have you noticed that only Europe seems to a problem with Deatheaters? Maybe it's because Americans have spent the last 200 years shooting deer, playing GTA: Vice City, and keeping an eye out for black helicopters over their compounds. Meanwhile, Brits have been cutting their steaks with spoons. Remember: gun-control means that Voldemort wins. God made wizards and God made muggles, but Samuel Colt made them equal. Now I know what you're going to say: "But a wizard could just disarm someone with a gun!" Yeah, well they can also disarm someone with a wand (as they do many times throughout the books/movies). But which is faster: saying a spell or pulling a trigger? Avada Kedavra, meet Avtomat Kalashnikova. Imagine Harry out in the woods, wearing his invisibility cloak, carrying a .50bmg Barrett, turning Deatheaters into pink mist, scratching a lightning bolt into his rifle stock for each kill. I don't think Madam Pomfrey has any spells that can scrape your brains off of the trees and put you back together after something like that. Voldemort's wand may be 13.5 inches with a Phoenix-feather core, but Harry's would be 0.50 inches with a tungsten core. Let's see Voldy wave his at 3,000 feet per second. Better hope you have some Essence of Dittany for that sucking chest wound. I can see it now...Voldemort roaring with evil laughter and boasting to Harry that he can't be killed, since he is protected by seven Horcruxes, only to have Harry give a crooked grin, flick his cigarette butt away, and deliver what would easily be the best one-liner in the entire series: "Well then I guess it's a good thing my 1911 holds 7+1." And that is why Harry Potter should have carried a 1911.

I fucking hate the word poggers. It's not funny, it's not quirky, it's stupid. It's just an Asian man going gasp!. It is not funny and I do not enjoy looking at it. Whenever someone says poggers out loud I'm just like "I get it you use fucking twitch.