The shecat shows who wears the manbun in the family.

Dear Diver,

Where have all the French fries gone? After an awesome, active day of adventuring, is there anything better than a cold, locally brewed beer and an order of fries? I’m not picky. I’ll take any topping or condiment but a potato chip just won’t do! Chips are meant for a Bud Light and channel surfing. I understand new breweries are looking for a menu to set them apart but Diver, what is so creative about a potato chip? Please help me understand.

– Thank you, French Fired-Up

Dear Freedom Fryer,

Having been born and raised in a country where french fries are chips, chips are chips and little finger-shaped pieces of chicken are also chips, I find it hard to empathize with or even understand your question. However, after much googling and contemplation, I wish to extend to you the following logic. Historically, the act of beer drinking has always been inherently masculine and continues to be thought of and marketed as such. With this in mind, I cannot think of a more complimentary or manly snack to accompany your post-adventure brew than the Death Discs that are potato chips. Tearing up your trachea with oven-baked morsels of fenugreek and aged cheese flavor sounds like one of the most rugged things one can do, so the next time you find yourself bar side and peckish, be bold. Don’t cry for fries, cry for those who have not yet shared in the true wood-chopping, whiskey-chugging, facial hair-ing bliss of having their mouths shaved into ribbons.

– Diver

Dear Diver,

At first it was just a few sightings, but now I’ve seen so many lately that it’s got to be more than a coincidence: man buns. (And no, I am not talking about the male posterior.) You know, the typically sloppy knot of greasy haired piled high on top of a man’s head, “I Dream of Genie” style. I’ve heard of “bun men,” but this is ridiculous. Please tell me it is just a passing fancy.

– High and Tight

Dear High and Tight (And no, I am not talking about the male posterior),

Where you see a dirty, lazy excuse for personal grooming, I see an efficient use of time and an aura that says “Who cares? It’s only fashion.” We are in a golden age of style – our apathy can be disguised as effortless chic. Our inability to pay utilities on time can be relayed as “I showered in the sea instead.” You may want to get on board before you get left behind, alone and wallowing in your tin of cedar-scented pomade. 

If it’s good enough for Thor, then it’s good enough for society. How can we marvel (pun) over his sparkling Australian locks and then condemn him when he wants to get the darn things out of his face? If this is a matter of hygiene, we should all be praising the man-bun for keeping leftovers hair free. Don’t get me wrong, refined dapperness will always be vogue, but if I’m allowed to embrace comfort and wear ugly footbed shoes, men should be able to pile their head mess into the shape of a delicious bakery item. 

On the bright side, it could be worse. See: Beard flowers. See: Monster Energy Drink tattoos

– Diver

Dear Diver,

Now that “Mad Men” is over, my husband has fallen into a deep, dark, Don Draper depression. I tell him there’s always Netflix, but he says it’s just not the same. Sunday nights at our house are going to be especially difficult. Please, Diver, help me help him to move on.

– Mad to Sad

Dear Moody,

I can only begin to imagine the emotions felt upon realizing your favorite TV show was nothing more than an eight-year Coke commercial. While you may see it as “just a TV show,” it is bigger than that. Don, Peggy, Richard and that guy dressed as a pirate who is most definitely going to have some regrets in his old age are you husband’s friends. They are his distraction from the mundane, his #squad, if you will. To remedy his PTSD (Post Television Series Depression), assure him Sally is going to turn out fine; Joan is going to make it big; Pirate Guy is going tell his grandchildren stories of what could have been; and Trudy and Pete will attend a completely unhinged community college together. It all works out. Also, remind him that Don is not really gone, he has merely been re-imagined as a stupid, handsome doctor (“30 Rock”), a misguided, deviant cult leader (“Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt”) or in the near future as a wet, hot, American summer camp.*

It’ll only be a matter of time before he starts caring about another fictional family more than his own, and all will again be right with the world.

– Diver

* Not a Netflix representative. Should be, though.