The other evening I was in an Uber with Beloved and we started chatting with the driver, a young man, about what podcasts he listened to. Joe Rogan and some other manosphere regulars was the answer but not, curiously enough, Scott Galloway, about whom he knew nothing. I asked him what he enjoyed about Rogan & Co., and the conversation turned to healthy foundations of positive masculinity and I mostly sat back and listened as Beloved and Uber Guy talked about what it means to be a man, how important it is to take responsibility, to look after the people you love, and how true strength translates into kindness and generosity.

I wish I could have bottled up the energy in that Toyota that night. It was perfect. Two men, a generation apart, connecting on an important subject for 15 beautiful minutes. It almost made me wish for a construction delay.

Scott Galloway would have approved. I happen to like him a lot, especially when paired with Kara Swisher. The two together is like a 1994 vintage port with Stilton and pears, after a five-course meal where the salad came after the entrée, not before.

His book, Notes on Being a Man, has been having something of a moment and I am glad for him. First of all, because the research is something that was needed. But mostly because the advocacy was, too. I see him being criticized right, left and centre for having the audacity to worry about how men are doing and I have things to say.

Galloway often makes the point that young men have fallen behind as a cohort in today’s society. And that’s especially true for the young men who are, well, unremarkable. Ordinary. No special skills, no money, with average smarts and average looks, who wind up on social media or gambling sites from their mother’s basement, with few real-life friends and no romantic life beyond porn.

I’m not here to challenge his research and I take him at his word that this is the situation facing a great many young men. I also agree it’s a problem that affects everybody because a society, like a chain, is only as strong as its weakest link, and that “young men” link is not even pretending to hold.

Galloway, who is not usually shy about being at the centre of a good controversy, is perfectly conscious that his book makes him sound like he only cares when men are doing badly. I don’t think that’s a fair comment to make about this man, but fairness was never really part of the game, was it.

Now for my own confession. As someone who’s had to claw their way through layers upon layers of toxic, mediocre but incredibly entitled men (including one abusive jerk I’m not entirely shed of, because the system is extraordinarily kind and lenient towards white men), I am not naturally sympathetic. Even when I go dig very deep into the field where I grow my fucks, I have trouble finding any to spare. And the ones I struggle hardest with are the young white men, who started life with every advantage the rest of us had to fight for and still managed to end up this damn lame.

I say this as someone who is white, smart, educated and healthy, which places me squarely in the second-most privileged group, right behind white men (a close second on paper, miles behind in practice). So no, I am not surprised Galloway is facing blowback. But there is something important in his message, and it survives my lack of sympathy.

Because here’s the thing: you don’t have to feel sorry for the drowning man to notice that nobody taught him to swim. Too many boys have not been taught how to become men in ways that aren’t toxic or violent. That doesn’t mean disaffected and useless incels need to be coddled. Nope. But they needed to see healthy models they could have followed to avoid becoming disaffected and useless incels. Which is a great job for healthy, successful men, who need to step up and take responsibility. To be a man, as it were. And guide those lost youngins towards something productive, healthy and attractive.

Often it’s simple, little things. Like speaking up when some douchebag makes a stupid, misogynistic comment. A simple “that’s not cool” is often enough. Not that it will convince the douchebag. But it will tell other boys or men watching (to say nothing of any women present) that there are better ways to behave.

Galloway often says (repeating an old line that’s something of a classic in family law circles) that the best thing a man can do to teach a boy how to be a good man is to treat the boy’s mother well, regardless of whether they are still together. Recognize her agency, her skills, her judgment, her talents, her work ethic, her empathy, and whatever else makes her a great person and wonderful parent. Kids don’t hear what we say so much as they see what we do.

And be open to conversations like the one that took place in my Uber. Conversations that could be happening everywhere, if more healthy men took it upon themselves to model something wholesome instead of leaving the field wide open to billionaire psychopaths, rapists and masculinist assholes.

Because that’s what struck me most, once we’d tipped and waved goodbye. The young man steeped in Rogan didn’t need to be argued out of anything. He was hungry for exactly the conversation we had. The demand is there, and it will present itself in all kinds of mundane situations. It’s the supply that’s missing. A few minutes is often all it takes to make a positive contribution to solving this problem. Count me among those urging good men everywhere to provide it.

Everyone has their breaking point. Mine arrived Monday night with the announcement that Donald Trump would, in yet another fit of pointless pique over some perceived slight or other, impose 50% tariffs on a bunch of goods including some I had no idea we produced. Like grapefruit essential oil.

Why Monday night’s nonsense pushed me over the line and not, …

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You could argue theme parks aren’t an ideal place for profound philosophical reflections and you’d be right but also wrong. I spent last Thursday at La Ronde with three teens and yesterday at Canada’s Wonderland with just one teen and other than a nicely sun-kissed nose and a mild kink in my neck from all the rides I’ve done, I’ve …

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Father, noun: literally any idiot can become one. And so many idiots do. They aren’t invested in the children they produce, even when they stay with their mother. They don’t care who the children are and what they might become. They just want them to be quiet and not bring shame to their name. It’s almost better when t…

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The University of Alabama’s football team, of course, is the Crimson Tide. But all you really need to know is Roll Tide. The story I mention, of this student picking Tuscaloosa out of 53 offers is here.

The event at the Planetarium on June 17 is here.

Some photos from the protest, including Taylor’s favourite, are below.

Also? The heat got to me, too. It’s Richard III who was the mad king Americans fought a revolutionary war against. I, ahem, knew that.

It’s hot for this northern flower and I’m frizzing, but having a grand old time. And we couldn’t resist bitching about the bitch fest. You know, that one. Also cameras on trash trucks to spy on people and I can’t decide if it’s genius or stupid.

This is where you’ll find information about the Lost Weekend exhibit, including a link to the documentary.

Taylor and Michael should consider staying in this suite when visiting Montreal?

For those who want to vote for a great candidate for governor of Alabama — this man is cool.

In you’re in Huntsville on June 17, come see this storytelling show at the Planetarium!

Katie Britt’s spotless kitchen:

Pierre Poilievre’s weird coffee cup:

The snake handling preacher’s story is here. The book written about it is here.

The link to the documentary is available through this news article. I found it on Bell Fibe TV, Crave on demand.

Also I should remember not to make fun of AI because the damn thing captured Taylor and I as we recorded and created this version…

Here is what you need to know about the Saturn rocket at the state line. This news station has a fantastic video segment on it, too. The short version is: Yay! It might be back!

The previous rocket, developed at Huntsville’s Marshall Space Flight Center, had been in place at the rest stop since about 1979 before it was dismantled in 2023. There was a months-long effort to save the deteriorating rocket, but NASA and the rocket center said that after four decades of being exposed to the elements, the rocket was in no condition to be preserved and the cost would be prohibitive. The Saturn IB was smaller than the Saturn V rocket, which carried men to the moon in the Apollo program, which is on display inside the rocket center. A rocket center report from 2022 described the IB rocket as an “overlooked workhorse of the Apollo program.” Among its tasks was sending crews to Skylab.

Here are some reasons why tax experts say it’s a bad idea not to tax overtime, if you want to join the Killjoy Party. Like this bunch of state Republicans, I guess, who prefer giving tax breaks to corporations.

The story of the man who shot George Wallace is here. I also mention having been at a talk in Huntsville by former Attorney General Bill Baxley, who successfully prosecuted the men behind the 16th Street Baptist Church. Here’s a snippet (asterisks are mine) from Wikipedia:

Baxley reopened the cold case of the 1963 16th Street Baptist Church bombing. In a letter, the Ku Klux Klan threatened him, comparing him to John F. Kennedy, and called him an “honorary n****r.” Baxley responded, on official state letterhead: “My response to your letter of February 19, 1976, is—kiss my ass.”^[2][3][4]

Taylor surprised me with the story of Wallace’s wife, Lurleen, who was governor of Alabama in 1967-68. She ran at her husband’s request, and as “Mrs. George C. Wallace” to boot, because at the time the constitution of Alabama outlawed consecutive terms for governors. Wikipedia says this:

Wallace's most notable independent action as governor was increasing appropriations for the Bryce Hospital and the Partlow State School, a residential institution for the developmentally disabled. She visited both institutions in Tuscaloosa on her own initiative in February 1967 after reading a news story about overcrowding and poor staffing, and was horrified by the filthy, barracks-like settings.^[19] She also obtained a large funding increase for Alabama state parks.^[21]

The story of Alys Robi, the Quebec City singer who had a lobotomy performed on her against her will in the late 1940s, is available in English here. Below, in 1992, she performed some of the songs that made her famous.

Wondering about Clear ID?

Gummies are regulated. And so is vaping. Good luck on making the kids obey those rules!

Juneteenth is a state holiday in Alabama now, and here’s the Obama tweet that will lead you to the whole story on the redistricting. And before Canadians get too smug, here’s the story on the Manitoba hospital *still* named after a doctor who performed starving experiments on Indigenous children for the federal Department of Indian Affairs.

And last but not least, the sizzle reel from the Carney visit to the White House.

More information about Lulu’s Law for those of you who think your phone should save you from sharks.

I am excited and delighted to share that Taylor will begin the new mural at Lowe Mill very soon, and that people who happen to swing by during the month of May will be able to witness its creation in real time. Me, I won’t see it until June, so go for me and take pictures, yeah?

Below is the news release. I can’t wait to see it.

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And here is the Elections Canada video explaining how it will deal with the mind-bindingly long ballot in Carleton.

This week we talked about fluffy pancakes, which are new to Huntsville and unknown (at least to me) anywhere in Canada. And cowboy caviar which for some reason I hadn’t noticed until now. There’s some controversy over whether that’s cultural appropriation and I don’t mean to be more insensitive than usual when I ask why we can’t have it anyway? It’s that good. Eldest and I also visited Dutch Bros for sugary caffeine, evidently a cool brand of coffee shops she’d noticed on some social network or other. And here’s the link to my meadery at Lowe Mill.

Welcome to new knowledge! Here’s the meaning of lepton. You’re welcome!

Oh, and Kristi Noem was governor of South Dakota.

This is what it looked like. I mean, it’s pretty. But a little late in the year.

Among the other subjects we discussed are fluffy pancakes, the criminalization of human cloning (super necessary, don’t you think), a Secretary of Education who doesn’t know the difference between AI and steak sauce (no, really), a bill to encourage people with suicidal thoughts to temporarily surrender their firearms, school cellphone bans (Taylor and I disagree on that one), the Beautiful Rainbow Cafe, and the South’s annoying habit of voting for “don’t say gay” bills.

Below are photos I took last month in the same location.

Also? We need to settle on a name. At first I was thinking From Bama with Love but maybe that’s a little too obvious. I thought From Bama with Sarcasm but it doesn’t roll off the tongue.

From Bama with Bite: Southern Sass and Sarcasm. I kinda like that one. From Bama with Sass? I’m open to suggestions.

Taylor works out of Lowe Mill, an incredible space that I love to visit every single time I’m in town, sometimes more than once. There’s always something new and inspiring to see.

Among the things we discussed during this week’s episode is Alabama’s weird history of not allowing lottery and gambling. For a state where freedom is such a thing, not having lottery is… weird. In other states, they use surplus for good deeds — education being a top one. NPR has a very handy list of where that money goes, by state. The information for Ontario’s lottery profits is here.

I also fumbled the size of the city of Ottawa pretty badly even though I meant to say 800 square kilometres, not eight (duh). It turns out its size is 2,796 square kilometres, or for those who only measure in American, just under 1,080 square miles. It’s freaking big.

Listen to the audio version.

You don’t need to be crazy to travel but it helps. If you’ve spent any time in an airport at any point in the last 15 years, you’ll know what I mean.

Some days I envy people who never go anywhere. They have no idea why grown-ass adults walk barefoot in public places, one hand holding their pants up and the other anxious not to…

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