The Non-Sports Fan’s Survival Guide to Super Bowl LIX (Yes, You Can Fake It)

A photograph of a rugged, slightly worn "Survival Guide" handbook sitting on a living room coffee table cluttered with snacks, a remote control, and a half-empty soda can. The title "Survival Guide" is embossed in bold, comic-style block letters on the cover, with a distressed yet humorous aesthetic. The background features a blurred TV screen showing a football game.

It’s that time again—when nacho consumption soars, brands spend millions to make us cry over a talking golden retriever, and for one night, everyone suddenly becomes an expert on “momentum shifts.”

But what if you, dear reader, couldn’t care less about National Football League (NFL) Super Bowl LIX? What if you'd rather be anywhere else but trapped in a four-hour football marathon?

Good news! My annual guide will help you fake it, escape it, or—dare we say—actually enjoy it (without suddenly developing “strong opinions” about pass interference).

Step 1: Know Just Enough to Survive

The Game: Kansas City Chiefs vs. Philadelphia Eagles. Yes, again. Just say, “This rematch really adds an extra layer of narrative intrigue.” People will nod.

The Halftime Show: Kendrick Lamar featuring SZA. Expect one spectacular performance and at least one person loudly declaring that nothing will ever top Prince in the rain.

The Commercials: The only time people shush each other to watch an ad for Doritos chips. Be on the lookout for confirmed spots from Kawasaki Motors Corp., U.S.A., Starbucks, Best Buy, Dove, GoDaddy, and of course, hims & hers.

Step 2: Your Three Foolproof Phrases

These timeless lines work every single year:

1️⃣ “I just hope it’s a good game.” (Safe, neutral, cannot fail.)
2️⃣ “That’s a bold call. Let’s see if it pays off.” (Say this during any big play, and you’ll sound like an analyst.)
3️⃣ “I’m really just here for the commercials.” (Truth.)

Step 3: Accessibility = Super Bowl MVP

Want to sound insightful and support inclusivity? Drop these into conversation:

“Glad they have ASL interpreters again this year!”

Super Bowl LIX will feature ASL performers for the anthem & halftime show. Shoutout to Matthew Maxey for making the music accessible!

“More events should have live descriptive audio.”

The game has real-time play-by-play for blind & low-vision viewers.

“Can we turn on captions?”

Accessibility helps everyone, especially during loud parties (or when your uncle won’t stop explaining the rules).

Step 4: Your Escape Plan

If the game drags on, try these classic moves:

The Kitchen Gambit: “I’ll check on the snacks.” (Never return.) Anheuser-Busch, Totino's, Häagen-Dazs Shops, Uber, Instacart, PepsiCo, and DoorDash all paid a fortune to influence you. Did it work?

The Bathroom Break of Unusual Length: No one will question 20+ mins of doomscrolling.

The Pet Excuse: “The dog looks anxious. I should sit with them.” (Even if they are sound asleep.)

Final Thoughts: Just Ride It Out

Look, the Super Bowl isn’t just a game—it’s a national event, an excuse for excessive dip consumption, and a night where even the most football-averse people must endure sports commentary.

But with these survival tips, you’ll make it through Super Bowl LIX unscathed.

Now, repeat after me:

“I just hope it’s a good game.”

DEI is Under Attack—But Inclusion Can’t Be Optional

A modern office features an illuminated sign reading "Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion: Strength in Unity" with a colorful gradient background. In the background, a diverse group of employees collaborates around a conference table in a well-lit space with large windows.

Every day, I watch as the policies meant to ensure my dignity, my inclusion, and frankly, my survival, get dismantled. It’s not hypothetical. It’s not a distant issue. It’s personal.

Like many disabled professionals, I see the writing on the wall—diversity, equity, and inclusion are under attack in ways that go beyond policy changes. These aren’t just bureaucratic shifts; they send a chilling message about whose existence is valued and whose is not. And for so many of us, that message is hitting hard.

But here’s what I also know: not everyone is backing down. Not every company, every leader, every organization is willing to let progress be erased. Some including Apple, Microsoft, Delta Air Lines, Johnson & Johnson , and JPMorganChase are doubling down, choosing to be louder, more intentional, more committed to inclusion than ever before. And if you’re one of those people—if you believe that workplaces should be places of opportunity for everyone, not just the most privileged—then now is the time to act.

I’ve spent my career navigating the intersections of disability, policy, and workplace equity. I don’t just speak about inclusion—I live it. And I know firsthand what it takes to create workplaces where disabled professionals don’t just survive but thrive.

If your company, conference, or organization is still committed to real DEI—not just as a buzzword, but as a practice—I want to talk. Hire disabled speakers. Bring in disabled consultants. Invest in perspectives that aren’t just theoretical but lived. Because right now, at a time when so many of us feel like our voices are being pushed aside, inclusion can’t just be a quiet value. It has to be a loud, unwavering action.

Think That 2 A.M. Email Means Workaholism? Think Again

A dimly lit home office at 2AM, illuminated by a glowing computer screen displaying an email inbox with multiple unread messages. Coffee cups, papers, and an open notebook sit on the desk, evoking a sense of late-night work.

With all the uncertainty surrounding the federal workforce, the flood of emails, and my need to shut out the noise, I’ve been reflecting on how my coping skills and work habits often align with neurotypical norms.

The first time a colleague asked why I was working so late, I was caught off guard. It hadn’t occurred to me that a 2 a.m. email might seem unusual. But over time, I’ve realized that for many disabled and neurodivergent professionals, working outside conventional hours isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity.

I often structure work around chronic pain flare-ups or medical appointments. Others align their schedules with fluctuating energy levels or assistive care needs. And then there are those who thrive when the world is quiet, free from the constant buzz of notifications and interruptions.

Late nights are when I do my best thinking. With an empty inbox and a silent phone, I can focus deeply and be productive. But I also understand that receiving a 2 a.m. email might seem urgent or unsettling to others. That’s why I’ve started adding a simple disclaimer:

“Please note that the timestamp on this email reflects when it was convenient for me to send it. It does not imply an expectation of immediate response. Please prioritize your work-life balance and reply during your regular working hours.”

It’s a small adjustment, but it helps. It reassures colleagues that I don’t expect them to match my schedule. Still, there’s a bigger issue: unconventional work hours are often misunderstood.

Managers might see off-hours emails as a sign of inefficiency. Clients may misinterpret them as urgent. Some assume the sender is overworked or struggling with boundaries.

But here’s the truth: flexibility makes sustainable work possible for many disabled and neurodivergent employees.

People often assume working odd hours signals poor time management or workaholism. The reality? It’s about playing to our strengths. When we work in ways that align with how our minds and bodies function best, productivity increases, stress decreases, and burnout is less likely. The traditional 9-to-5 schedule doesn’t work for everyone—and for many of us, it actively creates barriers instead of fostering success.

So, if someone’s best work happens outside the typical workday, why fight it? Why enforce a rigid system when flexibility leads to better outcomes for everyone?

If you’ve ever wondered why a colleague is sending emails at odd hours, consider that they might not be struggling—they might just be working when they’re at their best. And if you’re someone who thrives on a nontraditional schedule, how have you navigated conversations around it? I’d love to hear your experiences.

The Midnight Deadline That Could Change the Federal Workforce Forever

Demonstrators rally during a protest against U.S. President Donald Trump and the actions he has taken in the first weeks of his presidency, outside of the Department of Labor (not pictured) in Washington, U.S., February 5, 2025.

As Tom Petty famously said, "You can stand me up at the gates of hell, I won't back down."

This morning, like every other federal employee, I received another email reminding me that time is almost up. The so-called "Fork in the Road" buyout offer—a forced choice that feels anything but voluntary—expires tonight.

This isn’t just another bureaucratic reshuffling. It’s an existential crisis for public service.

For more than a decade, I have proudly served as a federal employee, working across multiple administrations, and several agencies. I've advocated for healthcare with the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), promoted innovation at the USPTO, and today I fight for the American worker at the U.S. Department of Labor. Now, that career—like those of thousands of my colleagues—hangs in the balance, not because of performance or budget constraints, but due to a politically motivated purge of the federal workforce.

And I’m not alone.

“If you have to send us 10 emails saying this is totally not a scam… then it’s probably a scam,” David Casserly told POLITICO.

Federal employees across agencies have voiced our concerns: we do not trust this offer.

There is no legal certainty that severance will be paid past March 14, when current government funding expires. Meanwhile, those who refuse the buyout face an implicit threat of future layoffs. Messaging from U.S. Office of Personnel Management (OPM) has been inconsistent, shifting policies and timelines in ways that appear designed to create confusion.

The irony? The very people being targeted for removal are the backbone of government efficiency.

Career civil servants do not take these jobs for money or prestige. We do this work because we believe in it. We are committed to upholding the rule of law, ensuring that government services run smoothly, and protecting the most vulnerable members of our society. We are the employees processing Social Security claims, enforcing labor laws, and ensuring accessibility in federal programs. Yet, we are now treated as obstacles to be removed.

So, what happens tomorrow?

For those of us refusing the buyout, we brace for retaliation. The Department of Government Efficiency met with Labor Department leadership yesterday, and the message was clear: this is only the beginning. We do not know if access to federal systems will be revoked overnight. We do not know if mass terminations are imminent. What we do know is that this administration is determined to eliminate career public servants, and it is not being subtle about it.

But we are still here. And we are not backing down.

If you are a federal worker—or if you know one—check in, reach out, and offer support. No matter what happens after midnight, we must stand together.

Uber’s Service Dog Policy Update: Progress or Just PR?

Uber logo displayed on a modern, abstract background featuring curved shapes in black, blue, and mint green.

I’ve spent a lifetime advocating for disability rights, fighting for equity, and pushing companies to make accessibility a reality—I’ve seen firsthand how corporations talk a big game about inclusion but fail in practice. That’s why Uber’s recent policy update on service dogs caught my attention.

Uber has always been required by law to allow service dogs, yet enforcement has been inconsistent at best. While matched with Canine Companions® Pico, I documented hundreds of refusals on Twitter/X, confronted drivers, filed complaints—and all too often, the most Uber would do was ensure I wasn’t matched with that driver again. Consequences were minimal, and riders like me bore the burden of proving discrimination over and over again.

Now, Uber is rolling out a feature that allows riders to self-identify as service dog handlers. If a driver cancels after being notified, they receive a warning reminding them that refusal is illegal. “Any driver who violates this policy may permanently lose access to the platform,” says Uber’s Chris Yoon, as quoted in The Verge. That sounds good, right? Except I’ve been here before. The key word is 'may'. Will drivers actually be held accountable, or will this be another slap on the wrist?

Uber’s history gives me reason to doubt. The system still leaves room for discrimination. Drivers can cancel rides under false pretenses—claiming they couldn’t find the rider, going offline, or making other excuses to avoid accountability. I and many others have seen this playbook. Meanwhile, service dog handlers are forced to navigate awkward confrontations and potential ride denials just to get from Point A to Point B. It get's exhausting. No handler should be forced to leave their medical equipment at home to make it on time to their destination.

This new feature seems helpful, but it places even more responsibility on disabled riders to preemptively disclose our status, creating a record of our attempts to comply. But why should it be on us to reduce the risk of discrimination? Why aren’t drivers trained, vetted, and monitored more closely to prevent these issues in the first place?

To be clear, I want to believe this marks a real shift. Uber claims this feature was developed “in collaboration with leading advocacy organizations and service dog handlers.” Organizations including National Federation of the Blind, The Seeing Eye, and American Council of the Blind. That’s a step in the right direction. But my optimism is cautious. Until we see consistent enforcement—until drivers who break the law actually face removal—this is just another policy on paper, not a lived reality.

So I ask: What would true accountability look like to you? Have you faced service dog refusals in rideshare services? What changes would make a real impact?

Uber wants to make riding with a service animal easier

“Did You Do Anything Related to DEI?”—The Question That’s Destroying Federal Careers

The Education Department headquarters in Washington on Jan. 15.

I’ve spent over a decade in federal service, working across multiple administrations. I’ve proudly served my country, navigating shifting policies, political climates, and leadership changes. But what’s happening now? It’s not just a shift. It’s an erasure—one that’s putting careers, rights, and fundamental American values on the line.

If you’ve ever attended a DEI training, served on an affinity group, or simply advocated for fairness, you might be next.

This administration isn’t just eliminating DEI programs—it’s purging people. At least 50 Department for Education employees have been placed on leave, yet “almost none of them worked in jobs directly related to DEI,” according to The Washington Post. Their crime? Being associated with diversity efforts in any way.

That’s the threshold for being removed from service.

This isn’t just about diversity training—it’s about who belongs in the federal workforce at all. The U.S. Office of Personnel Management (OPM) sent a mass email giving employees a “choice”: resign now with a deferred resignation package or risk losing your job without guarantees.

A U.S. Department of Justice worker summed it up perfectly to POLITICO “It felt like we were being asked to swear allegiance to a new form of government.”

DEI isn’t a radical concept—it’s the very promise of this country.

We have fought, legally and morally, to build a system where opportunity isn’t dictated by race, gender, ability, or background. And yet, this administration is doing everything it can to undo that progress.

They aren’t just removing DEI from federal offices—they’re erasing it from history. Government websites with EEOC information were taken down for days, making it harder for employees to even report discrimination .

For those of us with disabilities, this isn’t theoretical. I’ve advocated for policies that make federal spaces more accessible—not just for myself, but for millions of Americans who need those same protections.

So when people say “DEI is dead”, as Trump recently did , I hear something else: “People like you don’t belong.”

But here’s the thing: we’re still here. And we are not going quietly.

Federal employees—especially those of us from historically excluded backgrounds—are exhausted. We’re being pushed out, threatened, and told we don’t matter. But the truth is, we are the backbone of this government. Career staff keep the country running regardless of who is in office. We have institutional knowledge that no executive order can erase.

So if you’re reading this, check on your friends in government. We are holding on by a thread. We need allies. We need people to speak out. We need each other.

And if you’re in the private sector thinking, “This won’t affect me”? Think again. Because when DEI disappears from government, it emboldens companies to follow suit. And when institutional knowledge is lost, we all pay the price.

Trump’s DEI purge targets federal workers who did not work in DEI

Trump Blamed DEI for a Plane Crash. Here’s Why That’s Dangerous.

Emergency response units assess airplane wreckage in the Potomac River near Ronald Reagan Washington Airport on January 30, 2025 in Arlington, Virginia.

I wish I could say I was surprised. But I’m not.

A tragic plane crash happens at Ronald Reagan National Airport, and instead of waiting for the facts, instead of mourning the lives lost, Trump rushes to the mic with an all-too-familiar playbook: Blame Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. No evidence, no logic—just another reckless attempt to weaponize tragedy to attack marginalized communities.

And this time? He went straight for disabled professionals.

In his press conference, Trump suggested that DEI efforts were responsible for putting “unqualified” people in roles like air traffic control, even going so far as to claim that under Biden, the Federal Aviation Administration was hiring people with “severe intellectual disabilities and psychiatric problems” as part of diversity initiatives. He made it sound as if DEI is about lowering the bar, as if safety has taken a backseat to inclusion .

Let’s set the record straight.

DEI doesn’t weaken standards—it strengthens them. It ensures that highly qualified individuals—people who have always had the skills but have historically been shut out due to bias—get a fair shot. The FAA’s hiring requirements haven’t changed. Air traffic controllers still go through the same intense screening, the same rigorous testing, the same high-pressure training. Nobody gets a free pass. The idea that disabled people are handed these jobs without meeting the same standards as everyone else is not just false—it’s insulting.

Maria Town, President of the American Association of People with Disabilities said it best, “Preventing the FAA from hiring people with disabilities does not make planes more safe, It just removes opportunities for disabled people."

And yet, here we are again.

For those of us in the disability community, these kinds of attacks aren’t new. We’re used to people questioning our qualifications, assuming we’re only here because of some imaginary quota. It doesn’t matter how hard we work, how much we achieve—someone, somewhere, will always suggest we don’t belong.

Trump’s words don’t just spread misinformation. They do real harm. They give people permission to question whether disabled professionals should be allowed in the workforce at all. They fuel narratives that say our presence in critical jobs is a “risk” rather than an asset.

Here’s the truth: Disability doesn’t make a person unqualified. It doesn’t make them less capable, less intelligent, or less deserving of responsibility. I know this firsthand. I have spent my career proving what I—and countless others—already knew: We belong.

Trump didn’t just attack DEI. He attacked the very idea that people like me, people like us, deserve to be here.

And we cannot let that stand. The only way to drown out falsehoods is with truth. And the truth is, DEI isn’t the problem—it’s the solution.

Trump Blames DEI, Democrats for Deadly Plane Crash

The War on DEI: What It Means for Disability Advocacy in the Federal Workforce

The image shows a close-up of a document titled "Termination of Employment" placed on a wooden desk. To the side, there is a partial view of a keyboard and a yellow-tinted pair of eyeglasses resting on a closed book.

The federal government is currently experiencing a period of significant change in areas such as Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, return-to-office mandates, and executive orders that directly affect federal policies. As a long-time federal employee, I find myself closely observing these developments and working to adapt—just like many of you. This is undoubtedly a time of uncertainty for federal workers, and understandably so. Recent rollbacks in DEI programming, elimination of related roles, and the enforcement of RTO mandates are reshaping the workplace landscape at a rapid pace.

For me, these changes feel personal. As someone with a disability—navigating chronic pain, a visual impairment, and reliance on assistive technology—this shifting landscape poses significant challenges. The pace of change is unsettling, but it’s important to acknowledge that much remains unknown. While the push for these policy changes is concerning, full implementation will take time. Many of the fears we face today may not materialize immediately.

Despite the uncertainties, one thing remains clear: we all share a responsibility to uphold the humanity of our workplaces. Whether as colleagues or leaders, it’s on us to ensure that everyone—regardless of ability—can succeed in the roles they were hired to fulfill. While DEI initiatives and remote work policies are evolving, some measures remain stable for now.

The current RTO memo includes language that supports remote work as a reasonable accommodation for employees with disabilities. This provision is a step in the right direction. However, the future of Schedule A—a hiring authority designed to bring individuals with disabilities into federal service—is less certain. While Schedule A has its limitations, it has served as a vital pathway into federal employment for many. For now, it remains intact, offering a glimmer of stability amidst the changes.

As federal employees, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the uncertainty and rapid shifts happening around us. But it’s important to take a moment to reflect and breathe. We are still in the early days of this administration, and much of what is being proposed will require time to take shape. The federal government’s processes are famously slow-moving, and significant changes often face bureaucratic resistance and legal challenges before they can be fully implemented.

This doesn’t diminish the real fears and concerns many of us are feeling. The anxiety around job security, workplace accessibility, and the future of DEI initiatives is valid and deeply felt. However, it’s also important to recognize that the laws protecting disabled workers have been hard-won and will not be easily undone. Legal safeguards and advocacy efforts remain powerful tools in preserving workplace equity.

As we navigate these turbulent times, let us move forward with care, grace, and resilience.

The Forgotten in the Flames: Why Emergency Planning Must Include Disabled People

A scene of intense wildfires, with palm trees and vegetation engulfed in flames, embers scattering through the air, and a vibrant orange hue dominating the environment.

Reading the recent story from Sonja Sharp at Los Angeles Times about Anthony Mitchell Sr. and his son Justin—a father and son who both had disabilities and died because of inadequate evacuation planning during the devastating LA wildfires—has left me angry and heartbroken. Their deaths were preventable, and yet they were left to wait, pray, and perish. This tragic event reflects systemic failures that disabled people, like me, fear every day.

I can’t ignore how often disabled people are overlooked in emergency planning.

Growing up, I was never truly part of evacuation plans. After 9/11, I remember my math teacher pointing to a football player and saying, “Ryan, that’s your escape plan.” That moment encapsulated the lack of planning, forethought, and value placed on the lives of disabled individuals. Now, as an adult living in a 25-story high-rise in D.C., those fears haven’t gone away. During fire drills or alarms, the elevator shuts down, the hallway doors automatically lock, and I’m left wondering: “Will anyone come?” I’m on supposed watch lists, but those plans are never practiced. The truth is, I don’t have faith that help will come when it matters most.

Anthony Mitchell Sr., an amputee who used a wheelchair, and Justin Mitchell, who had cerebral palsy, couldn’t escape on their own. Firefighters stopped family members from entering the evacuation zone to save them. As the flames closed in, they huddled together, waiting for a rescue that never came.

Officials have known for years that disabled individuals are disproportionately impacted by disasters. A 2019 state audit highlighted how emergency management agencies were woefully unprepared for this threat, despite California being home to 4 million disabled residents, including nearly a quarter-million in Los Angeles​

We can and must do better. Emergency response plans need to be inclusive, regularly practiced, and accessible to everyone. This means involving disabled individuals in planning processes, investing in assistive technology, and ensuring first responders are trained to address the needs of disabled people during disasters.

We’re one-fourth of the global population. Our lives are just as valuable, and our voices need to be heard. Let’s stop apologizing after the fact and start making proactive changes now. The cost of inaction is far too great.

Red Flags in Job Descriptions: What Disabled Applicants Notice

A digital illustration of the Washington Nationals logo prominently displayed in the center, surrounded by vibrant red, white, and blue accents. The background features a baseball diamond with dramatic lighting, creating a sense of energy and pride. The design emphasizes the team's colors and tradition in a bold and professional style

Today, I find myself reflecting on a troubling trend in job postings that claim inclusivity while subtly discouraging applicants with disabilities. A perfect example comes from a job description for a Communications Manager with the Washington Nationals. The LinkedIn algorithm suggested I'd be a top applicant. A chance to blend my love of communication and baseball? My interest was piqued. On the surface, it outlines standard communication responsibilities—drafting press releases, coordinating interviews, and managing media relations. All of these align perfectly with the skills expected of a professional communicator.

But then comes the Physical/Environmental Requirements section, which demands:

• Standing for long periods.
• Walking long distances.
• Climbing up and down stairs.
• Lifting up to 45 pounds.

For a role focused on media relations, where exactly does lifting 45 pounds come into play? These physical requirements raise serious questions.

Let’s unpack this: The job description explicitly states that the Washington Nationals are "dedicated to offering equal opportunity employment and advancement…including disability." Yet, these physical demands feel like unnecessary hurdles, particularly for disabled professionals. This disconnect is more than an oversight—it's a systemic issue. Arbitrary physical requirements often serve as a quiet signal that disabled applicants may not be fully welcome.

Job descriptions like this one, with their misaligned physical requirements, highlight a glaring gap between intention and execution. They inadvertently screen out highly qualified candidates, not because they lack the skills, but because the posting assumes physical ability is synonymous with competence.

Nowhere in my 15 years as a communications professional have I been asked to lift 45 pounds.

Employers must evaluate if physical demands are truly essential. Is there a genuine reason for a communications manager to climb stairs or carry heavy loads? If not, these requirements should be removed.

Companies claiming to value inclusivity need to ensure their job postings reflect that ethos. Accessibility isn’t just about wheelchairs and ramps—it’s about eliminating unnecessary barriers in hiring.

Postings should explicitly encourage applicants to discuss accommodations. A simple line—“We are happy to accommodate your needs to perform essential job functions”—can make a world of difference.

Language matters. If a company’s goal is true inclusivity, they must start by removing arbitrary barriers from their job descriptions. Let’s make sure equal opportunity is more than just a tagline.

We're clearly in the off-season and the Washington Nationals latest job posting is a strikeout. Hopefully their next Communications Manager can encourage the use of inclusive language.