Louis C.K. is our down-to-earth, inappropriate uncle. He’s the reason we know so much and give so little shits. And, really, that’s the way to live. The Louis C.K. way.

Uncle Louie says the things that we all think to ourselves on our morning commute sitting between, from what I can tell, Satan’s last existing disciple, on the verge of bleeding out from the ears and the shit he calls music, and two babbling Millennials disputing the correlation between social media and psychoanalysis. Oy.

He says the things we long to rip into (like, did your moms all collectively drop you all of at this coffee shop, and in those clothes? Is this a nightclub or a place to re-caffeinate my dying soul?), and the things we can’t quite articulate (“Here’s the difference between boys and girls: Boys f*ck things up. Girls are f*cked up!”).

Louis C.K. reminds us that life is difficult enough without the layers of bullshit we tack on with our moans, groans and mobile uploads. He reminds us that we can’t beat them, and we don’t really want to join them—let’s just laugh at them instead.

So, the next time you find yourself pondering one of life’s inexplicable plights, just ask yourself, W.W.L.C.K.D.? He’ll as quickly tell you to shut up and get over, because really, that’s all that you can do.