For the light of heart: dancing cat emojis and Grumpy Cat GIFS.
For the TV-obsessive: war on North Korea.
For the New Year’s Resolutionist: lobster truffle mac n cheese at Dean and Deluca’s: I’ve always wanted to taste this. I don’t know how I’m supposed to react.
For the lonely: a recurring memory of that cute guy way back at the Women’s March, the one holding the sign that said, DOES MY PERIOD SCARE YOU?
For the New York Times addict: resigning oneself to Douthat and Brooks, a vodka mimosa in hand, humming the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
For the Salvation Army bucket guy: war on the homeless.
For the depressed: renewed prescriptions from the CVS-controlled pharmacy/world.
For the Horace Mann class mother: Blackberry-redemption machines. Waste not want not, I always say.
For the P.S. 81 class father: deciding which is worst: the dentist or the tax preparer.
For the Alzheimer’s patient who’s snuck into the movies at the former Lincoln Plaza: Maybe now my parents will pay attention to me.
For the newly-released from Rikers: Nothing’s changed. Damn!
For the Union divinity student: What the hell did we just live through?
For the F Train conductor: I don’t care what anybody says, I fucking BELONG to the fucking middle class.
For Black Lives Matter: Black Lives Matter.
For the Sutton Place dowager: reflecting: The first wife was nothing but Iron Curtain trash, the second was even less than that. Why was it ever a question?
For the NYU adjunct: the war on trans bodies.
For the Great Neck divorcee: a chance to finally burn all her Ivanka Trump dresses in a pile outside her condo. Take that, Lord and Taylor!
For the retired hospital janitor: a new password for Monster.com.
For the Women’s March grandmother: a chance to plant her hands on her granddaughter’s head and pray. I’ve always hated religion until now. Let us pray.