One of my Facebook friends posted a status that was all, “Why can’t The Sun publish educated opinions?” So, here goes nothing: David Foster Wallace is the poor man’s Thomas Pynchon ’59. Pynchon is the pretentious man’s Vonnegut ’44. Bam. Moving on.

Last weekend, my friend (who has recently found the man of his dreams) expressed his concern over my own lack of significant other. Heretofore, I’ve remained relatively indifferent on the subject. But then he told me that boyfriends buy you things. Suffice it to say, I’m down.