There is something so comforting about going to an Italian restaurant in New York/New Jersey and inevitably finding the framed picture of James Gandolfini going beast mode there 20 years ago. Oh, we're eating on holy land tonight.
So if Roaring Kitty is Buck the Bunny but he has been hanging out with Greg who could be Ryan Cohen but he just unfollowed Ryan Cohen then Ryan Cohen told us not to follow GameStop then tripped Jalen Brunson with his prada shoes then Buck the Bunny returns and follows Greg then
Because, Sarah, that’s how men cope with the unbearable lightness of being. No cream, no sugar. Just the raw, unfiltered bitterness of existence distilled into 8 ounces of jet-black truth. You sip it not because it tastes good, but because it tastes real. It’s the flavor of war, of unpaid taxes, of knowing your grandfather could kill a man with a shovel and never talk about it again.
Men drink black coffee the way stoics face death: with quiet resolve and unspoken trauma. It’s the morning ritual of the defeated Roman senator before the blade, the hardened farmer surveying his drought-struck fields, the office drone who knows he’ll be replaced by ChatGPT 7.0 but keeps logging in anyway.
You want to understand masculinity, Sarah? Forget Jordan Peterson and his lobsters. Go ask a man drinking burnt diner coffee at 6:00am in a parking lot. Ask him what he’s thinking about. He won’t answer. He’ll just sip, nod, and go back to dying in silence.
That's how.