Who has never tasted the bitterness of frustrated revenge that comes with the lack of a perfect retort?
I was parking at a grocery store, and as I got out of my car, a kid parked behind me to one side. He got out with a Trump-eating grin on his face, and gesturing towards my Harris/Walz sticker said "I bet you regret being associated with Walz these days." I felt no such thing, but shrugged and replied, "Oh, well."
He replied "Read this:" and pointed to the front of his car, which had a plate that said "WORKMORE." I grunted and continued on to the store, but at the same time a wave of déjà vu washed over me. Forty years ago I had written a story called "The Adventures of Captain Capitalism," featuring a pro-Reagan superhero who drives a large, black Lincoln Continental with license plates that say "EARN IT." Then and there, I realized what the kid was:
After forty years, another generation of Yuppies is emerging.
Upon returning home, I paced around a few minutes, then settled down to meditate on a reply which would be peaceful, serene, and to the point. Finally it came to me, and my features relaxed in belated bliss:
"Go easy on the blow, bro."
January 6, 2026.