(Re-posted from Facebook) When I boarded the plane to New York (Jersey really, but I’m heading into New York), it was 2014 and I was the dutiful husband and father commonly referred to as “Daddy”. But now that I’ve landed, it’s the early 90s again, and I am on the way to meet my fraternity brothers for the evening, who will uniformly refer to me as “Jeavy” (rhymes with heavy) or “Jumbo” or “Jeavy Humbo”. And I shall not concern myself with the educational needs of my children, or how to trick them into eating asparagus, or who must scoop the cat litter tonight because that zillion dollar electric cat box my wife bought (the third such cat box that she has purchased) broke YET AGAIN, and I threw it down the back steps and replaced it with a non-electric variety of cat box, similar to those that cavemen might have used, which actually allows cats to shit within it. And don’t even get me started on the fact that we own cats at all. No, tonight I will instead be myopically focused on summoning my best insults, my most obscene jokes, my absolute, over-the-top “A” game comedy material, in a take-no-prisoners blood sport with/against a handful of the men alongside whom I became a man. And like Galadriel wielding The One Ring, it will be “. . . beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!”