The longer these primaries drag on–the longer everyone soap-boxes and no one listens–the more I find myself hiding from social media and, gasp, reading paper books and writing in paper notebooks. These days, that qualifies as “going off the grid,” which I find hilarious given that only a decade ago going off the grid entailed living off the land, modern amenity-free, and growing a very big beard, regardless of your gender. This is also hilarious given that Brooklyn is now crowded with the facial-hair equivalents of Unabombers, Paul Bunyans, and Motel the Tailors. (A glimpse into various ancestry; what ho!) What’s most hilarious: Apparently I am channeling the spirit of Andy Rooney.