Growing up in an advertising agency, I bucked all expectations by being completely lacking of any wit or charm — naturally fitting into more of a support role normally reserved for basement dwellers and fans of junk animation. When I’m not being punished by my sons (seven-plus game platforms, the Iron Man vs. Hulk scene re-enacted by memory by the four-year-old, and I’ve seen Coco 64 times) or framing network printers for crimes against humanity one electron at a time, you’ll find me casually rebooting production VM’s with a hand hovering over an unopened bottle of Bulleit Bourbon. Oops, I just opened it.