I think we are all exhausted by, and sick of, Donald Trump.

I think I might prefer women without makeup. Though I don't really know, because I am not good at identifying makeup. I once wrote in the chat, a long time ago, that my wife wore no mascara. She later informed me dryly that she has worn mascara every day that I ever knew her. Or maybe eye liner. I forget. Which is the one you always wear, girls.

I am deebly self-conscious, and bad.

Most men I know adore women, and I am including gay men. I think studies on jury selection show that the biggest critics of women - people less likely to trust their character or judgment - are women.

We separated like oil and water. In the cafeteria, you'd see a table of black jocks, table of white jocks, table of rich white kids, table of Hispanic kids, table of Chinese kids, table of druggies, table of chatterboxes, and so on. Wait! There's a diverse table over there! With a few kids of different tenacities and economic status! Oh, that's the nerds. That's where I sat. We weren't cool enough for the other tables, so we didn't discriminate against anybody.

Is it really the right of the media to dictate to the president whom he will allow in his press conferences? That's tetchier. And then there is the added issue of whether it would be a service to their readers, and the country at large, for, say, the Washington Post to take itself out of the room -- meaning they don't have the ability to ask important questions the president is obliged to answer? I think that would be a mistake.

I don't think I could ever love someone with whom I fundamentally disagreed, politically.