Life is hard.
Not “stub your toe and move on” hard.
I’m talking existential dread with a side of breaking news alert hard.

EVERY SINGLE DAY !!!

Everywhere you turn—news, politics, religion, social media—
it’s like walking into a room where everyone is already yelling…
and nobody remembers why.

Hate.
Hate.
HATE.

I hate all the hate.

And then…
the other night…

I found the answer.

Cheese.
And crackers.

Stay with me.

It was about 9:00. Orioles game on. Early dinner had worn off.
You know that moment—when you’re not starving…
but you’re also not not eating again.

So I go to the fridge.
And suddenly—I’m a man of options.

Cheddar.
Pepper jack.
And a respectable half block of brie that felt like it had something to prove.

Pantry?
Ritz.
Triscuits.
Stone ground wheat—because apparently I have a sophisticated side I don’t remember developing.

Now I’m building something here.

Brie on the stone ground wheat.
Cheddar and pepper jack? They’re flexible. Team players.

Not a picky cheese – they’ll float on what ever boat you bring.

But that’s me.

And here’s the thing—
that’s just me.

Because like much of this blog where I am king of my domain, in this there is no right or wrong answer.

Maybe you’re a Ritz person.
Maybe you’re a Triscuit loyalist.
Maybe you looked at the brie and said, “Not today, fancy cheese.”

Cool.

You’re still invited.

Then it escalates.

Two mustards enter the chat.

It’s 9:00 at night and I’ve somehow assembled a spread that says,
“Yes, I have my life together,”
even though I absolutely do not.

Three cheeses.
Three crackers.
Two mustards.
White grape sparkling water—because hydration matters, but make it classy.

And here’s the kicker—
I didn’t even need anything else…

Butif I wanted it – I had it.

Ham from two days ago.
Salami.
Dried mango.
Trail mix.

At this point I’m basically hosting a one-man charcuterie convention.

Me, sitting alone, at a table for more.

And you know what hit me?

There is something here for everyone.

You like cheddar on a Ritz?
Cool.

Pepper jack on a Triscuit?
Cool.

Brie on a Ritz?
…Look, I have questions.
But also—
cool.

No judgment.

There is no “right way” to do cheese and crackers.
There’s just your way.

Yellow mustard with cheddar on a Triscuit?
Cool.

Spicy mustard with brie on a Ritz?
That’s a bold life choice…
but I respect the confidence.

And that’s when it clicked.

Republican.
Democrat.
Independent.
“I don’t follow politics, I just came for the snacks.” That you?

COOL

Every single one of them…
can sit down…
and figure out their own plate.

Can’t reach it? 

Ask and we’ll pass it over.

Nobody’s flipping the table because of a Triscuit.

Nobody’s yelling,
“THAT’S NOT HOW YOU EAT BRIE!”

(And if they are… they’re not getting invited back.)

Black. White.

Republican.  Democrat.

Christian. Not Christian.
Doesn’t matter.

Pull up a chair.

And a small plate and napkin.

We’re not barbarians here.

Because I don’t think—
and I mean this—
I don’t think it’s possible to look at someone’s plate of cheese and crackers
and determine their politics, their beliefs, or anything else we’ve decided to fight about this week.

It’s just food.

Shared space.

A little bit of choice.
A little bit of respect.

And maybe…
just maybe…

if the world operated a little more like a plate of cheese and crackers—

different options…
no judgment…
something for everyone…

we’d all be a little less angry…

…and a lot more full.

• Seriously
• That Guy