Stop Spitting on the Sidewalk, You Disgusting Pig

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Naval Aircraft Factory, photo via Naval Historical Center

The other day after work, I was waiting for the garage attendant to bring down my car. I was standing alongside a well-dressed, dapper-looking man about age 60. As his car — a much more expensive one than my ancient Honda — came rolling down the ramp, mine followed close behind. The attendants lined the cars up beside us and got out, holding the doors for us. The gentleman beside me paused, cleared his throat, coughed up a huge phlegm-ball onto the sidewalk at my feet, and proceeded to get in his car.

Yo, dude. You are so, so gross.

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This Halloween, Can We All Just Ghost?

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I committed a grievous etiquette sin last weekend. I pulled a Halloween ghost.

Let me explain, and see if you wouldn’t have been tempted to, too.

We were invited to the wedding of a friend of our daughter Marcy. Marcy was in the wedding party, so I had gone to the wedding shower as well. I’d dutifully bought gifts for both occasions. My husband Doug and I got dressed up on a Saturday and got to the venue on time. We’ve had the happy couple over to our house for a couple of parties. We’re not close, exactly, but we like them and wish them the best.

We enjoyed the ceremony (I cried), and chatted with acquaintances and strangers at the hour-plus cocktail hour. Then we found our seats for dinner, introduced ourselves to our table-mates, and made quite enjoyable conversation with them for a couple of hours while the meal was served. It was lengthy because it was interspersed with speeches and first dances. By the time the floor was opened to general dancing, we’d been there for four-plus hours, and frankly, we were beat.

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The NYT’s Hugging Story Looks a Lot Like the Inky’s

The Inquirer seems to be ahead of the Times.

Last Friday, The New York Times ran a column titled “The Bro Hug: Embracing a Change in Custom,” this month’s installment of Henry Alford’s “Circa Now.” It’s about the evolutions in how men greet each other, and the perceived uptick in hugging among men.

A fun story. But less fun if you’d happen to read “More young men friends embracing — which has the amazing URL slug “younger-men-older-men-more-men” in the Philly.com archives — that ran in The Philadelphia Inquirer in June.

The piece, by the Inky’s Samantha Melamed, was not the first piece about men hugging. But both it and the Times story months later cited several of the same sources.

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’Murrican as Apple Pie

You'll find about a million of these on the Internet. Internet, please shut up.

You’ll find about a million of these on the Internet. Internet, please shut up.

’Merica. ’Murrica. ’Mericuh.

Our most recent Independence Day weekend brought them out, in intentionally butchered droves — cheekily edited versions of our great country’s name, accompanied by photos of eagles, flags or domestic beer cans with eagles and flags on them. I’m not sure when, where or why lopping the lead “A” off “America” and mush-mouthing the rest began, but it’s very clear where this odd act of ass-backwards Insta-patriotism has taken up permanent residence:

The Internet.

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Is “Hon” the New “Ma’am”?

“How many do you have, hon?” the sales associate at the Express in Liberty Place asked me last week. The week before that, a young woman on the 13th Street El platform asked, “Hon, can you break a ten?” Before that, it was a former student who thanked me for my feedback on her work and then said, “See you tomorrow, hon!”

For the last year, I’ve been getting “hon”-ed down all over Philadelphia — and not from the usual suspects, but from women who are definitely younger than me. And quite honestly, I’m baffled.

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How Mike Missanelli Misses the Point of His Deadspin Controversy

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Mike Missanelli seems to have learned the wrong lesson.

Missanelli, of course, is the local sports talk radio host who was suspended last week after Deadspin released emails showing him lobbing homophobic taunts at a listener who’d clearly gotten his goat. He was back on the air Monday, and his jokes about the shortness of the suspension sure seemed to indicate he didn’t use the time to think about what he got wrong.

“My God, that was a really long weekend. It feels like I haven’t been on the air since last Monday,” Missanelli began.

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