Like the Olympian god Zeus scouring beach resorts for female Britons who’ve had too much uzo (or any uzo), inspiration can take many forms. For me it’s staying up for three days on a cocktail of Diet Mountain Dew and Adderall while sterilizing forty-seven G.I. Joes that Mother “accidentally” flung into the septic tank. As I carefully scrubbed fecal matter from Lady Jaye, a stray thought buzzed my cerebral cortex––if health care is now a basic human right, does that include male-pattern loneliness? To clarify for any Bravo subscribers and those with extra chromosomes, I mean “dating.”
Think of the school shootings, terrorist bombings, and suicides that could be prevented if the lonely single guys that universally commit these horrific acts were allowed a regular allotment of dates with a “nice” girl on the government payroll who laughed at all their jokes and actually listened to theories on the alien origins of Oklahoma rose rocks instead of tossing a glass of Modelo in your face.
Jobs created. Anger prevented. Crime averted. That’s all bonus as long as I get assigned a date!