Touche Pierson. Touche. One point, to start:

-Well if it’s Che Chi and not Chee Chee than 9,500 Boston College students are mispronouncing. Write them a memo.

Moving on. Agreed about the finding of the bottom line. Slightly off as it pertains to Deeb – who is Sam’s son (that was weird).
1. I haven’t had a rum and coke since high school. Rum makes me vom. Coke makes me burp. And 2. You only hit the middle line. The middle line, though easily mistaken for the bottom line, is not, in fact, the bottom. The bottom line is this:

I shouldn’t go on a date with Deeb because I don’t really like Deeb and that’s A. not fair to Deeb and B. introducing a dangerous element of discomfort to my otherwise blissful nightly falafel routine. Bottom line, not that attracted to him — shouldn’t date him, won’t marry him, and should stop flirting with him just because it makes me feel nice about myself. That is the bottom line.

I agree that we are finders of the bottom line, erasers of the grey area, lovers of the brutal. But finding it and following it are two different things. Maybe following it will be something I challenge “in the new year”. Or maybe I’ll keep stopping by Deeb’s and you can keep drinking on the weeknights. Because bottomline, may be too old for some shit, but we’re way too young to completely cut the crap.