Over coffee at the picnic-table in our campsite this morning, J and I discussed The Handmaid’s Tale, which we’ve been avidly watching. He noted, ironically of course, how the show has ruined so many things for him.

“Like what?’ I asked, semi-judgementally.

“These cars for instance- the Mercedes G-wagons they drive. I used to like them.”

“Ah,” I said. “I wonder how Mercedes feels about their branding these days after formerly being known as Kardashian-wagons. What else?”

He sat a moment and sipped his coffee.

“The color teal?” I offered.

A smirk.

“The name Lydia?”

A nod of agreement.

“Rape, perhaps?”

A look of utter shock and disgust.

“Corporal punishment then?”

“And cattle prods,” he added.