People ask me hey what kind of man are you. What is your deal. And I tell them straight-up w/zero frontage: I happen to be a man who wears Dragon Slayer. That’s a Bosom Buddies shout-out which will hit home with maybe 1% of people out there reading this, i.e., a very small fraction of one person. Dragon Slayer being a cologne. Or maybe it was Dragon’s Lair.

Seriously, though, I don’t play. I deal straight. I shoot straight. I’ve been known to beat a woman with a bottle of vanilla vodka J/K!!

So I’m reading this and enjoying it because I am an INTJ and fit the description perfect-o, and I wrote M. Barrish to say: “Tee hee, I feel you, dude.” (I’m paraphrasing.)

And he wrote back to say: “Are you sure you’re not an INTP? Because, judging (so typical for a “J”) from your writing, I’d think you were an INTP.” And he asked me a couple questions to confirm his theory, and the questions were all about spontaneity vs. debilitating fear of spontaneity, or like go-with-flow vs. iron-fist-control-freak, and I had to sheepishly admit that I’m firmly in the latter department, and maybe my writing is all loosey and life-of-party but its author is uptight and clenched and has a desk that is sparse and empty except for the can of compressed air kept on hand to blast away small imperfections.

So that’s the kind of man I am. And after a long day of winding tight the rubber band of my metaphorical toy airplane, I come here to watch it snap and crash. Dear Josh Of The Future: Please rewrite that terrible terrible sentence.