NOTE: As has become our custom since we launched this endeavor, we are devoting the last ten days of the year to reprising what we consider to the best of what we’ve mused about in the 355 preceding trips around the sun. But since we’re evolving and we pride ourselves on having a foundation steeped in the reality of actual numbers, as a new wrinkle we’re making our choices with an emphasis on which were outlier performers in terms of Instagram and Substack views.
It’s been pretty difficult in recent days for me to find something worth smiling about. I’m sorry, but I simply cannot take anything resembling a victory lap about how things went this past weekend. A few thousand neighborhood pep rallies with absolutely no impact on policy or the targets they creatively derided, or the fact that there were plenty of empty seats and somehow no WD-40 at Fat Orange Jesus’ excuse for a birthday fete, just don’t move me in the least. And we’re past the midway point of the month, which means I’m scrambling that much more to make sure I’ve got every last recyclable container at my disposal so that I might somehow make it through to the end with a positive net worth. Lately, that simple goal has often been out of reach.
But thankfully, distant as they may be, there’s at least family. And every June 17th for the last coupla decades and change, I know I’m gonna have at least something positive to muse about.
A few June 17ths ago I introduced you to my niece. That particular post has been jettisoned to what has effectively become a zombie site, as have many others that at one point I was advised to relegate more personal musings. Some of them still deserve that fate. But this one, as you can hopefully see for yourself, was one that seemed to resonate with anyone who has someone in their life who’s the next best thing to a child. Especially those of you who, like me, don’t.
Well, today’s her birthday again, and this one’s an especially special one. About a month ago, she and her equally hard-working beau took off on a vacation to Turks and Caicos. They have the initials R and R, so why not a little R and R for them, right? What she didn’t know at the time–but yet even I did–was that the male R had taken her dad to a steak dinner with a particular request on his mind. The fact that Gen Z apparently still believes in such practices is alone enough to warm even the coldest of attitudes.
As you can see, the request was granted, and the mission was accomplished. And at some point in the next year or two–don’t you even dare pressure them for a specific date–they will officially become Mr. and Mrs. Reese Pembleton.
He’s agreed to a Jewish wedding. She had previously agreed to becoming a Philadelphia Eagles fan in return. The year she changed allegiances, they became Super Bowl champions. I’m therefore exceptionally bullish on their future together.
And for those of you who may have been invested in her journey when we first saluted her, you’d be happy to know she’s still a valued decision-maker at that fashion design company on Broadway–her works have even gotten a magazine cover. That’s helped them take the step of buying a house, which given his expertise as an architect will likely be a masterpiece. I’ve already offered up the Home Depot discount when they’re ready.
Happy birthday once more, Rachie. I know full well you’ve never fully been “my girl”–you’re too special for the world not to have their own small piece of you as well. I’m beyond ecstatic you’ve found a soulmate worthy of having the lion’s share. Here’s hoping you’ll allow some of my readers to join the party.
Until next time..
POSTSCRIPT: The happy couple just celebrated their first holiday season in their new home and have set THE date for 5/2/27 at an appropriately ornate location outside Philadelphia. Where, no doubt, most of the rank and file will still be bemoaning something Jalen Hurts didn’t execute to their liking months earlier.