Happy Monday, everyone. It's great to be back-- for now. So I had an anniversary this weekend. Yes, it was the seventh anniversary of the first time I saw Kim Kardashian's butt in person. See? That is me right there. I'm behind her and to the right. And you can clearly see my eyes were laser-focused on that thing. And that thing was so big, it kind of felt like it was staring back. 

Now, this happened in 2016 at the White House Correspondents' Dinner. I haven't gone since because how could I top that? But this weekend's version of the event also reminded me why I haven't been back either. Mainstream media sucks, and it's worse in a tux because the coverage reminds us of exactly what it really is about-- something I call ego-affirming care. It's where members of the so-called free press can inflate their self-esteem like Chinese spy balloons. And like every award show, it's artificially created as a reminder that they matter. It's where they can savor shrimp cocktail, along with the smell of Joe Biden's lingering farts. They smell like butterscotch.