Elizabeth Simone

Hey man! First of all, your handlebar mustache is looking phenomenal. Plus I love the way you’ve rolled your fluorescent orange beanie like a little condom for your head. Very cool comment on the nature of capitalism vis-à-vis the service industry. Anyway, I just want to apologize for asking to substitute oat milk in my honeysuckle-boysenberry latte. I see now that you weren’t just reacting as a barista. You were reacting as an artist, and I disrupted your canvas.

Sisters, it’s time to take up space. We have suffered oppression for the last 14 years. (Maybe even 15, I don’t know, it just feels really long.) It’s up to us to be agents for change. The painting is on the wall. We will not shoulder the full responsibility of domestic chores. We are more than just cavewives. We will not give in to primitive ideas of femininity and will refuse to underline our eyes with charcoal or dab our lips with ochre, just to please our mates.

Every day it feels like things get a little bit worse: gun violence, wars, inflated prices with stagnant salaries, and the emergence of artificial intelligence poised to take our jobs and eventually our world. For these reasons and the myriad of others equally pressing, it feels like there’s never been a worse time to be alive and hosting a Suits rewatch podcast. It’s hard to feel good about too much of anything these days.