Why the Tie Dimple Matters

Because we're not cavemen.

There was a time long ago where if a man left the house without a dimple in his tie, he would be told about it by the other men in his vicinity. In fact, refusing to inform a man that he accidentally left the house with a flat tie was social suicide. If the man in question, upon learning that his tie was malfunctioning, refused to rectify the situation, it was permissible by the Laws of Ur-Nammu to put him to death.

I bring this up because our world is falling to pieces and I’m not sure what to do about it. Whenever I tell one of you about how ties work (sometimes metaphorically), everyone screams, “Neeeerrrrrd!!!” and then they get crazy fucking weepy. If I let it go, then our beautiful society descends further into the pits of chaos.

I believe it was Hugh Hefner who once said, “Goddamn those are some nice tits.” and then followed that up with, “Living in the moment, thinking about the future, and staying connected to the past: that is what makes me feel whole.” and I think that’s beautiful because that’s how I want to live my life. I obsessively study the past and can destroy you at Trivial Pursuit. I am in the process of inventing the Grilled Cheese and Yellowfin (shut your mouth it’s delicious). I have to pee. Past, future, and present. Me.

But I, like Hefner, also like photos of boobs.

So here’s the deal—take it or leave it. I’m going to just start talking and hopefully one of you will become our next President because these idiots we’ve got in the hopper right now are not cuttin’ it. And some of these musings will be accompanied by a smoking hot chick. It’s just who I am. The only chance we have at a normal life again is if I—at the ripe old age of 45—wait, please don’t leave—I meant 37—shhh—STOP CRYING!!! The only chance we have at a normal life is if I bring back the dapper demands of the past, offer solutions that will improve the future, and every now and then offer a red-hot stock tip so you all have a reason to buy me one coffee per month.

Keep your fingers crossed. Here goes…