It's 3AM; I must be lonely.

This is the kind of grammar up with which I shall not put.

I was just doing a little housekeeping on LinkedIn and took a minute to browse the people LinkedIn thinks I might know, where I noticed that I may or may not know a whole lot of “strategic communications professionals.”

Which makes me wonder: does the world really need so many strategic communications professionals? Are we going to reach a point soon where lawyer jokes are replaced by strategic communications professionals jokes?

Q: How many jokes about strategic communications professionals are there?

A: Only one. The rest are true.

Badabing!

But then I go and read pretty much anything in the world, and I think, “Okay, maybe I do get it.” Although sadly, a good deal of the crap is actually generated by strategic communications professionals, so it’s really just an infinite loop.

The horror.

Bonus Joke!
Satan was complaining bitterly to God, “You made the world so that it was not fair, and you made it so that most people would have to struggle every day, fight against their innate wishes and desires, and deal with all sorts of losses, grief, disasters, and catastrophes. Yet people worship and adore you. People fight, get arrested, and cheat each other, and I get blamed, even when it is not my fault. Sure, I’m evil, but give me a break. Can’t you do something to make them stop blaming me?”

And so God created strategic communications professionals.

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Eats

When Can I Move In?

Osteria Morini, Lafayette & Spring, New York City. It’s not in New Jersey, but we will take credit for anything within five miles of the border.

Gnocchi with beef cheek ragu, dried cherries, and olives:

Gramigna with pork sausage, peas, cream, and black pepper.

Not pictured: the buffalo mozzarella with figs; the pork chop with grilled quince and crispy pancetta; the rosemary-olive oil cake with blueberries; the coffee budino; and the extremely satisfying burp I just emitted.

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New Jersey

Raised By Well-Groomed Wolves

I get on a flight from California back to New Jersey about eight hours from now. As long as I don’t have to sit next to a woman who thinks giving herself a full pedicure is appropriate in-flight behavior this time, it should be fine. The dead foot skin cells you just sloughed off with a pumice stone should NOT be free to move about the cabin.

I already miss my fellow Automatticians, but the pull of New Jersey, she is strong.

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