As Darren so wisely put it: “This looks like a picture that would be taken right after your mom says, ‘Honey, go stand next to your brother. This will be so cute.’” Even the Hollywood sign is like, “Dude, I’m running away from them.”

My mom overreacts. I don’t begrudge it and I don’t judge it and I’m certainly used to it, because mom has always been a wonderfully neurotic Jew from Long Island who thinks the sky is falling or her plane is crashing or everyone has cancer. It’s fine. It’s culturally-appropriate. It’s an early Woody Allen movie.…

The coffeehouse where I’m working this morning has officially turned into a Fellini film. The old man standing two in front of me on line wordlessly handed the barista a white rose and walked away, as the slightly younger woman behind him danced twirlingly to the music on the PA. I thought at first that…