The older you get, the more of your belongings fall into this category. But my favorite ones are the wool blankets I’ve knitted. There’s one I’ve been wrapping up in for about six years, and I kinda hope they bury me in it when I croak.

Plain ol pinto beans. One summer, my dad was really strapped for cash, and we ate beans every day for at least a month, and I never got tired of them. I still love them now, almost 50 years later.

My favorite part of this is “Real people are suffering…” Oh no! Real people, you say? I better take that seriously, unlike all those fake people whose suffering is both imaginary, and completely justified. Who the hell cares about any of them?