David Brooks sure hit a nerve this week. With his very subtly titled New York Times op-ed about how the snobs are beating the slobs.  I think we’ve seen this movie like 10,000 times already.  He pisses all over fancy ladies barre classes and buying upscale strollers as if women’s consuming habits are really the problem when only 6% of Fortune 500 companies are run by women.  Not our monkeys, not our circus. Its gut churning enough reading a privileged man writing about fancy ladies “ruining America” but then he tries to convince us that he took a female member of the bodega set to lunch. Suuuuure you did, David.

Like, who is this woman anyway that was forced to be sandwich shamed by David Brooks?  And I think that the soppressata or capicollo is less confusing than determining what the difference is between a burrito and a wrap. Like Kathleen Madigan says, Taco Bell has been taking the same five ingredients, switching them around and calling them new stuff for years. Why, hell, I was raised on  Zantiego’s cheese chilitos and those aren’t even real things!

Maybe you should have avoided the fancy sandwich shop not because of made up sandwich names but because it isn’t a good place to eat. And if it really is a good place to eat, do what anyone does with someone who has never tried a particular cuisine; help them, and not because that will elevate them to some other sandwich status but because you know that that this place makes good food and you want to share it.

Sharing is caring, Mr. Brooks.  Assuming that someone is classed out of a place because they don’t comprehend the menu is tremendously dismissive. Remember, it took Americans a few times to figure out how to order at Chipotle. But we did it! USA! USA! USA!

And speaking of a learning curve, let’s talk about competitive parenting….

I gave birth to a baby with multiple disabilities so I was tagged out of the having a golden child lane many years ago. There are the occasional “exceptional” parents (what parents of special needs kids are called sometimes) who drive to other states to get any one of a number of pricey, experimental treatments believing that they are providing the very best for their child’s future. When my kids were young it was hormone injections from a pig.

I don’t blame these parents for wanting a cure….who doesn’t want perfect health and especially for their children. I wish my daughter was able to function more like a typical young adult but I don’t have the luxury of living in denial and the truth is that none of us has that luxury with or without kids.

And because sometimes shit just doesn’t work, even after years of intervention, my only-slightly-less-autistic-than-she-was kid will still need lifelong help.

Parenting is a lesson in knowing just what you can and cannot control. I think that I rest easier at night knowing that I tried to help my daughter but not as nearly as well as if I would if I never had to think about her level of functioning in the first place. Then again, I could have a completely “typical” kid who was addicted to something or had cancer or anorexia or was in an abusive relationship or simply not feeling worthy of love. Would that be better?

All of America really does love to be judged, just look at all of the damn Judge shows on daytime tv! Then at night we have the judged talent competitions and endless baking competitions. Meanwhile no one can actually cook anymore….

Anyone who feels like they are truly judged on their barre technique or their choice of lunch meat is probably just a shallow asshole. Those people have to live with themselves, and no one likes those people anyway.

We all know that the game is rigged, Brooks ain’t telling this ½ hillbilly anything new under the sun. We all hate the game so let’s take a closer look at the players and I assure you, it isn’t the Mommy and Me ladies.