20:47: I arrive home from a friend’s family party with an army of dessert. Despite my declarations that “fifteen cookies is really too much,” I was assigned a slice of peanut butter cake intended to feed three grown men, two rainbow cookies, two cheesecake brownie squares, and a chocolate chip cupcake with cream cheese frosting. In the confusion, I also volunteered to bring home a loaf of French bread.

The First Annual Honesty Day was a complete bust. Yes, even I acknowledge that. We all lived through the turmoil, so we all know of what I speak. No one foresaw the tsunami of crushed dreams and ruined marriages and prosecutions.

I won’t hold no truck with any of this rude bunch, these kids today. No, I may not keep up with technology or current events or the supreme edicts of the inhuman god-emperors, but I stand by the idea that people of my generation were just plain more courteous, and had a modicum of common sense, to boot, which you won’t find one whit of in today’s crowd, I’ll have you know.

Privyet! Thank you for joining me on Facebook or YouTube. Now let me ask you: have you checked your bank account balance lately, Johnny or Joanna? Your nest egg is at the mercy of a government that may plunge the economy into a depression any day. If I were you, instead of a cyberbot activated by the Kremlin, I’d travel to Washington and storm the offices of the Federal Reserve, causing as much healthy mayhem as possible. Like the ritual of self-outing that you innocent and fun-loving westerners call full disclosure, it’s the American way.

It’s not every day a highly specialized composting toilet is purchased as a wedding gift. I mean, nothing says “this marriage is forever!” quite like a composting toilet. But alas, much like seeing undigested corn in my fecal containment area, I was confused by a lot of things in your marriage.