Philly’s Antifa Prodigal Son Effectively Wards Off Seasonal Depressive Disorder: Story at 11.

Today, friends, was an historical day.


(Why, yes, I put an “an” before historical, thank you for noticing.  I’m not offered nearly enough opportunities to these days to be pretentious, and that philosophy degree is just going to waste in my brain, so it feels good to take it out to stretch every now and again.)


But, anyway, yes.  An historical, AUSPICIOUS day, because I met a celebrity.


And not just A celebrity.  I met THE celebrity.  The best thing to come out of 2018.  The antifa immaculately-conceived miracle we do not deserve this holiday season.


That’s right.






And he’s AWESOME.  Kept in character, signed an autograph for a friend at my request, took all the photos everyone wanted.  His entourage were magnanimous and professional and efficient, and the entire experience left me fangirling for a few hours on social media and unable to do much other than make Gritty memes.


LUCKILY, that is my literally my job, so it worked out.


But, for a Friday in December when it’s too warm to snow and too cold to not have S.A.D., it was a welcome ray of sunshine to get to meet something God probably wouldn’t have created, given the chance, but that we, as a city, simply had to have.