The point of this column is that I am sick to death of writing about politics, current events, the state of our Union, and the 45th President of the United States, Donald J. Trump.

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How in the name of hell did we wind up back here? This is the kind of thing you see in black and white footage from Alabama in 1964. Haven’t we moved beyond this?

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And today, I sit in my white, male, middle-class privilege thinking to myself, “Well, now people are going to be afraid to call the police.”

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Nobody working behind a bar or serving you cocktails thinks the work they do is worth $8 an hour. It’s hard damn work. It’s long, long hours spent on your feet almost the whole time. Breaks can be hard to come by, especially when the place gets busy. And the person behind that bar is a skilled worker. There’s a lot more to the job than filling your glass with beer.

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