I’m a pragmatist. And a believer in hope. These things lead me to look toward the future. I know the past well enough…I’m much more interested in what’s going to happen rather than living in a time already gone.

So when it comes to boys, I can’t help but like the Pauls over the Johns. The Johns read David Foster Wallace. They mourn the death of all the things they love that are gone. They cry over Jeff Buckley. They listen to the old stuff. They eschew sentiment because it is too pop. And vice versa. They are arbiters of taste. They sit at home and stew in the bitterness of their own failures.

Then you have the Pauls. They don’t curse the new for its newness. They want to be a part of the newness. They create prolifically. They can see the world in its totality, realizing the bad that exists without being sucked into the vortex of all that is awful. They can find hope because it is something they create themselves. And instead of being bogged down in the bitterness, they are motivated by what may be tomorrow. Billie Eilish, Troye Sivan, Kendrick Lamar, The 1975.

Disenchantment is the playground in which genius grows. But, for the life of me, I refuse to ascribe to the viewpoints of grown men who have been defeated by the world. It is whiny. It is pathetic. It is emasculating. The Johns of this world are small. The Pauls, on the other hand, not only reflect the joy to be found in the world, they create it, bringing smiles to the masses. They are men.

As someone who has now been paid to bring hope to people, I have to make a conscious choice to leave these world weary disappointments in the past. How many have I dated? Enough. Enough to know that it always ends in me trying to stay positive against an overwhelming current of ick. There is already enough ick in the world. I shan’t be trekking it into my home on the treads of my shoes.

Here’s a good tune for a day like today when I am rolling my eyes so very hard at these idiots who whine about the DNC and take such satisfaction in the miserable state of current affairs. I get it. You love Bernie. Bernie was going to save everything, fix everything, put all that is askew right. If only we weren’t so stupid as to not elect him.

I can’t abide by impotent men. While they wallow in vitriol and are lost to the world, there are others who choose to leave a mark. It is with them that I stand.

Also, how great it is that Paul released a track with the same title as Michael, when Michael bought the Beatles’ catalog. History is a patient master, indeed.