Last week I went dancing my wife’s friend, and when I saw her up close I figured she had some fairly unbearable acne scars. I’m sure you can think of much more polite things to talk about over the Internet, but I’ve had this routine fear of acne ever since I was in the first grade. There was this one kid at my school, who we later found out escaped from prison, who used to chase everybody around with the most horrendous blackhead removal tool you have ever seen. Of course, that all came to a offensive end during the earthquake, and the ground opened up and swallowed him whole. Of course, all of this may be a ghastly vision rooted into my brain by a less than principled camp counselor when I was in the sixth grade.