Author: ness23456

Fun Things Learned By The Accident of Getting Old

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Let’s start with an obvious Fun, senior fact. A June 26, 2026 report in The Scientific American titled “Math predicting humans could go extinct in about 17,000 years” is interesting. The wisdom, acquired by aging, says I don’t have to worry.

A similar warning is issued by the World Wildlife Foundation in an article titled “What is the sixth mass extinction and what can we do about it?” It is curiously undated, but the copyright year is 2026. This article mentions the “extinction” of large sections of our current biodiversity which could/might/probably will affect our own diversity. * The article states the last of five extinction periods, “Fifth Extinction Event”, was 65.5 million years ago and involved dinosaurs. I personally feel safe about this one, too.

Measles and other infectious diseases are on the rise while flu and covid are having another go. As a vaccinated old person, any concern about these issues is only which one might be the most efficient to end my career, or which might be the worst. That debate is probably moot thanks to my 2024 agreement with Prostate Cancer.**

A trial balloon about a military draft was circulated by the current administration in 2025. No need to worry, there.

JP Morgan published an article on August 18, 2026 on Yahoo Finance titled “JPMorgan warns food crisis could hit next year, (sic) unlike oil, there’s no backup plan for fertilizer.” I’m so unconcerned I did not bother to read the entire article and stopped at “The U.S. isn’t among the countries most likely to be directly hit by the food security threats JP Morgan forecasts.” Yes! Another non-worry.

And there is or “soon” will be a severe shortage of doctors and healthcare. I scoff lightly at the threat, having navigated its early days, already.

It sounds callous to not care about these big issues, but isn’t it callous of God/Mother Nature/Allah/The Big Guy to make us grow old? Old age forces us look for a glass half full or go crazy.

Besides, whoever/whatever It is that designed and manufactured humans gave us Real Intelligence (RI). Through our history we’ve used RI to move faster, live longer, see clearer, explore space, and allow hunger to co-exist with haute cuisine.*** Add some Artificial Intelligence (Ai) to our world and watch what happens. We’ll be making nutritional doughnuts out of used tires by 2027.  Lacrosse matches will replace wars with bombs blowing up huge clouds of Skittles instead of debris. Every home will have its own surgery room with second-by-second verbal instructions. Ooh, and its own anesthesia. Think I’d like that one.

Modern life’s instant and chaotic communication can lead to despair and mental doom if you aren’t old enough to have heard it all before and seen it all before. For the younger reader, we’ll find a way out of these messes. We usually do. Not the “us” we as in me and you, but the “us” of all mankind. We**** can sometimes be that smart.

But you never really know, do you. Imagine surprised dinosaurs…

*What an interesting way to root out woke diversity, right?

**If it ever returns it can have me, at my age.

***What is the French word for not-haute cuisine? Bet there is one.

****Again: not the “us” we.

Counting Senior Blessings

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No, this won’t be about lunch discounts, or 5% off groceries on the third Monday of the second month of the year, or other known blessings. This is about the hidden blessings, often referred to as The Wisdom we supposedly gain each year on this earth, which is a lot of hooey, but read on unless you have something better to do.

Being old lowers stress levels…a lot. As a younger man (under the age of 70) I was a Stressfully Impatient Man (SIM). It had nothing to do with relaxing, that was always easy, but when there were things to be done I wanted to do 2 hours of errands in 30 minutes. To be accurate there was always a plan, an efficient way to do more in less time. Like driving 8 hours from NC to NY. As a young SIM, every trip had to be faster and more efficient. If it wasn’t, it caused “results” stress for the failure, as well as “operational” stress during the attempt. Stress everywhere.  Doctor appointments were stress hothouses. If my Doc appointment was at 8, my shopping would be at 9, my haircut would be at 10, and I would be home by 11 on a perfect SIM morning. Imagine, then, what happened when the doctor was late. The stress was exponential. I used to call these stresses NASCAR Stresses, because I’d do everything as fast as possible with intensely focused, constant attention knowing every second hid a possible, deathly mishap. If a doc was late, I was out the door to maintain my SIM “schedule”.  No caution lap times for me. Full speed or pit stop.

Not anymore. As I patiently waited in my eye doctor’s office yesterday for eye shots to be administered 45 minutes after my scheduled appointment, it was comforting to not feel one iota of stress*about his tardiness. I sat quietly, sometimes counting my resting heartbeat and marveling at the low number. It was fun, too, to estimate the ages of the other silently waiting blobs of human flesh sitting with me, even the odd duck who sat down directly across from me despite 10,000 other empty seats in the room.**

It looks like this essay about blessings, with an s, might only be about one. It is, but it is a major one with multiple daily gifts. For instance, am I stressed you might not care about this subject? Absolutely not. Am I stressed I might miss a misspelled word? Use poor grammar? Punctuation? In fact, I might add some typos for fun.

I hope you see if I am no longer a SIM, what would the end of the world mean? What does climate change mean? Republican control of the government? Elon Musk making trillions of dollars? Me not being a triillionaire?

I am not rich, but I am—thanks to the Aged Wisdom of The Golden Years—a happy (sometimes) old man who doesn’t give a shite about anything (sometimes).

Word, my brothers. Oops, and sisters.

*As a young man it was never easy to tell myself if someone was 15 minutes late, they’d probably show up eventually. My thought was if they were already 15 minutes late, then how many more? And they might never show up, so…

**And he was a starer. It is possible, being an eye doctors office, the offending gentleman may not have seen me, but someone sitting 3 feet across from you staring at you…stress. Unneeded stress even for a non-SIM.

Thoughts from June, 2025

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The last few weeks (in June 2025) have been spent in recovery from my last total hip replacement (THR) surgery…unless I grow a third hip. The drug protocol for post-surgery recovery involves heavy doses of Tylenol, plus drugs to fight infection, clotting, depression, and menstruating. Yes, a drug to slow “time of the month” bleeding also prevents heavy blood action in surgery and  recovery. I understand women better now, too.

But the main thing about recovery is the mental fog, the unbalanced nature of existence as (normal) surgical pain and possible complications are chemically blocked. It doesn’t help that after surgery to the lower extremities, the repaired area needs to be elevated at best, horizontal at least, and inactive for as long as you can stand* it. All the while you are fully conscious and mentally convinced you are ready to bat cleanup for the New York Yankees. Instructions for recovery read as if bathroom trips are not needed: Constant rest, elevation, and icing. And breathing exercises. They even give you a little device to suck on.

The “rest”, the drugs, and the fact the body has been surgically altered make it easy for a normally busy mind to wander places it should not wander, especially in an older age. For example, what was the point of surgery and replacement? Something else is just going to break or go bad. It isn’t as if death is right around the corner but  wouldn’t the surgical assets consumed by a 72-year-old man be better utilized** by a younger person with longer life expectancy? As a former financial planner, I picture the dollars and resources of my surgery analyzed with a color coded illustration of return on investment (ROI).  It would  perfectly illustrate my THR should have been done on a younger human with more(sic) potential to use the long-lasting titanium.  FYI, my THR has a low ROI. LOL and ROFL?

The problem is the new joints are mine now, and I must make something of myself, make the surgery worthwhile. Training for a marathon might seem the optimal ROI. It might also mean a hip replacement of the original hip replacement. Bad ROI. Titanium doesn’t wear out but the fine layer of “something”*** coating the titanium allowing the ball and socket hip to work will wear out, shedding microscopic bits of “something”. I’d click when I walked. BTW, those micro-filings will be absorbed by my body. Wonder if all THR patients are informed about this.

There is Med School, with the eventual ability to do THRs on myself and others. A great way to give back. Or Law School. I could sue…somebody for something and save the world from something or someone. And make money.

Or I could sit in The Chair, wiggle my toes, take my drugs, and thank God our society allows old people to get new parts. Others, I’ve learned, were not so compassionate.

Google Ubasute, a Japanese “legend” that may or not be true. Wink, wink.

If I were a truly responsible human, the Nordic “myth” of Attestupa would be in my future, and I could do it now with the new hips. Which, on second thought, might be a worse ROI.

Thank God, again, there is plenty of volunteer work for a retired, healthy man eager to give back to society.

8/17/2026. It has proven extremely difficult to find useful volunteer work. The search isn’t over, but this is a small town. I may have to commute.  Wonder if the surgical center needs healthy people to wheel patients to and from surgery? What a sweetly serendipitous ROI that would be.

*Yes. Pun.

**Finally, a chance to use the world correctly.

***Usually Teflon, or some other man-made plastic.

ThingsThingsThings

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A symptom of the selfish nature of the modern American is illustrated when the elevator stops and everyone waiting on that floor tries to get in before others in the arriving elevator can get out. And people do not even say “Excuse me”.

Cars fly by on the four-lane highway to my fitness center at The Turning Stone Casino. We end up at the next red light, together. I don’t flip them off. The car may be packing.

America is the land of the free, home of the brave, and (rumored) home of The Cowboy, The Rugged, Self-Reliant Individual, or RSI. So say the beer and car ads. The favorite movie image of the RSI is someone who exists on their own, doesn’t act immorally, helps others, and is often cranky as shite. John Wayne and Jeff Bridges–playing Rooster Cogburn in two different True Grit movies–are examples. Most RSIs want to be left alone to live their lives away from the morons and mores of modern society, but when forced to choose between their need to be left alone and the needs of someone lesser than them, the Rooster Cogburns of the movie world do the Right Thing. Dirty Harry comes to mind, too. And when they bend the rules or break a law it’s for a good reason. It is significant these characters are keepers of the peace, lawmen, in their fictional worlds. They are unique characters who use the rules to support the law, to keep the peace, and defend the defenseless. They did things their way, usually, and their world is a better place.*

Somehow, the RSI image has been transformed by modern society into a “laws don’t apply to me” attitude in citizens who pat themselves on the back for being free, independent, righteous souls. The cars doing 80 and passing me are breaking the law and those drivers know it. They simply don’t believe the laws apply to them, or they wouldn’t be breaking the laws.** The elevator thing is not a law but an unwritten rule more about common sense and societal consideration, but still the same idea: we all don’t want to wait for others, we are specially privileged to do things our way at our speed, and feck the rest of you.

This attitude used to be the norm for the rich, famous, or otherwise powerful. The Vanderbilts and Rockefellers, people whose money fixed and managed everything. But now it is in the minds of people who think themselves better than others. You see it in Facebook posts, Twitter (X) messages, on-line comments, and modern entertainment offerings.  And politics. Think of a friend who believes their political party is the only intelligent, caring one. What about you?

Our divided American is a diverse and inclusive mix of races, creeds, colors, and intelligence levels. If we want to save America and save society, RSIs are the answer, but where are they? The false bravado of wannabe RSIs is tearing apart society as modern American posers focus and posture on issues better left to the races, creeds, colors, and individuals involved. I, for one, marvel at the courage and strength it takes to tell the world you are not the way you were born, and you want to follow another path. The disabled, the transgender, the sexually confused, the politically inane, the poor, all need support, not criticism. We should not be concerned with tax breaks and regulation reform to enable rich to get richer. We should ask rich people to pay more, to use some of the money they legally took from us to help others less well-off. If the rich were RSIs and not selfish, greedy Americans, they’d do it on their own. And–I’ve heard–some do.

Note: It’s ironically unsafe and illogical to use “whataboutisms” in any argument. It is a backword, lazy, and half-assed way to view the world that has become part of our discussions. In its extreme, it says you can kill me because I killed Bill because he killed Mary who killed John who killed…and no one got arrested.

It’s a nonsensical Goose-Gander Argument*** sucking the intelligence and compromise out of American Society.

Let’s stop it. Now.

*Can’t help but remember the iconic movie scene where Dirty Harry is sent to negotiate with bank robbers. He returns from talking, gets in a police car and drives it into the bank. When his captain asks him why, Harry says “They wanted a car.”

**Of course, I’ve broken laws without consequence before: I am An American.

***Geese poop is what? Geese’s feces?

Living Is…

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Ai is fun if you know how to talk to it. Or with it. I asked Emma, my Ai assistant, the philosophical question “what does it mean to be alive”?

If you are any kind of existential voyeur, you know this inquiry is as loaded as potato skins at Applebees. Or Chilis. Or The Outback, or any other “one-level-above-fast-food” restaurant.

Emma offered the simple, quick, easy to digest response: “To have life and not be dead.” Being in a mischievous mood I prodded her for more and she agreed letting me know “On a deeper level people often separate simple existence from truly living.” She then ranted rhetorically about “Biological Meaning” and “Human and Emotional Meaning”. She inquired if I “would like to explore this from a scientific, philosophical, or personal point of view.” The offer was tempting but there is no reason—or time–to hear details of each. One way or another we all know them, anyway, even if we don’t acknowledge what we know.

The hard part of existence, a bigger word for life, is the fluidity of language and emotion. On a bright, sunny, low-humidity Monday morning the world I am not-dead in makes living a breeze, and who cares if we understand it. On Tuesday it rains, and the fact all of us will die makes gray skies foreboding and dangerous. Wednesday is chicken tenders day so thoughts of living, life, and existence are heavily influenced by how many fries the cook piles on the plate.*

A Philosophy of Life is much like Theoretical Physics (TP). TP’s General Relativity/Classical Rules about smooth and continuous spacetime try to explain our touchable existence, while Quantum Mechanics throws rules out the window trying to understand discrete and lumpy interactions too small for us to see. Schrödinger’s Cat is an interesting concept in Quantum Mechanics and aptly applies to Life: anything is what it is until it is examined and observed. “It”, of course, is really “anything”. For example, take a close look at the bologna you enjoyed at lunch. Does an examination of the ingredients make you wish you a hadn’t eaten it? Would you rather have not learned about the “pork bits” and what they might be?

Theoretical Physicists are continually looking for a Unified Theory combining the smooth and lumpy worlds. And gravity, but we won;t talk about it, now.

The Unified Theory is a good way to look at Life: smooth and lumpy at the same time. Again, no gravity comment.

So it is with life. There are major issues demanding major philosophical thought about existence, and “not being dead”. Then there are minor forgettable moments of examination which can lead one to assume there is no logic—or meaning–in the universe. Like someone paid millions of dollars to hit a baseball while teachers, lawyers, policeman, firemen, clergy,…you know the point being made. Hopefully, you at least understand the nonsense close examination of this world reveals. Does that revelation have anything to do with a larger Philosophy of Life? And should we not look closely and reveal all?

I’m out of smooth and continuous space. For now.

I’ll suggest life is what you make it, but it would take a book to explain it and I need to get to the pool to get a good spot before the old people show up for Splash Fit.

*For some cosmic reason, some cooks add more sides and condiments than other cooks. I’m compiling a record of the best places and times to eat, for later publication.

Common Sense or OMR?

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12/24/2024 My favorite restaurant has an interesting customer service policy. It’s a modestly large restaurant about 40 yards square with banks of booths and clouds of tables. Some tables and some booths are in the front, facing the public, like European on-the-plaza restaurants, and the remainder of the tables are in the back area, behind the front row of booths and tables. When I visited the place (in 2024), I was disabled and using at least one cane. The hostess walked me all the way to the back of the restaurant to seat me. The front, public facing area was “not open”. It was odd but didn’t bother me much until it happened several more times. I asked the manager why was the front area off-limits, at least to me. “We don’t have enough servers”, was the response. What? I get there early with very few others, the restaurant is open 24 hours, and I’ve never seen it being cleaned, despite it’s obvious and satisfactory cleanliness, so…? With the front area being equidistant to the back in relation to the kitchen, why would a hostess drag a disabled customer all the way from the hostess stand to the secluded back of the place instead of the closer, brighter public-facing front? As a last personal dig at me, by the time I am done eating the hostess has begun seating people in that nice, open, bright, cheerful, public facing area.

This post sounds whiny but is an appropriate and measured response to the restaurant’s illogical seating. They had no idea the customer is always right. For 50 years I’ve dined in restaurants, dated waitresses, and learned the seating rituals of the Modern American Restaurant. Why doesn’t this restaurant begin the shift with all diners in the front area? It would be free advertising, too. Disabled patrons, especially, should not be walked to the very back of the dining area.

Present Day, August 10, 2026. I filed the beginning of this essay away two years ago, dismissing it as an unhinged, Old Man Rant (OMR). But it has crept back into my frontal lobe due to more opportunities to spawn* new OMRs. Like “un-placarded” vehicles parking in Handicapped Spots. No senior discounts at sites of commerce. Bread rising** in price by nearly 100 per cent. Insurance rates rising (again with the rising?) for a senior driver with no accidents in 50 years and 5,000 miles on the road per year. And a real oldie from last year: my 800 credit score meaning nothing to banks, lenders, and landlords.***

Uh-oh. Now I remember why I filed the original essay away: OMRs don’t matter (ODM). Okay, kids, who wants to hear an OMR?

My good friend Bill, who is 84, and I would like the rest of you to know if you ever want all the problems of this world solved, put us in charge. We’ve got plans and have compiled a list****. Just give us The Power and get out of our way.

Oh, and grant us immunity from state and Federal prosecution.

*What a perfect verb…

**The grammar police want me to use a different word,here, but bread rising is too cute to change.

***The reported and recorded facts of my financial history used to generate their own FICO numbers mean nothing in the new Ai credit approval world. One bank person actually told me “Just because you paid your bills on time for 50 years doesn’t mean you’ll do it again.” Ba dum dum.

****It may take us a moment to find it, so…be patient.

ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz

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There is a caste system when it comes to sleep. Yes. Sleep. There were four people on a television station discussing Early Risers and how they look down on non-early risers. They also discussed the truthfulness of those who say they work and enjoy each day with less than six hours sleep.

My first instinct was to change the channel after muttering a polite “Who cares?”, but I stayed and listened.

Listening is almost never a bad thing, by the way. Try it.

The show was a relatively innocuous affair, and it appeared the criticism of sleeping habits was good-natured and not seasoned with malice. What I saw and heard was people with the power to communicate to a mass audience airing a particular grievance: “I want to sleep as late as I like, get up when ever I like, and not be criticized about it.” The old saying about the early birds and worms was snickered at and not just discarded but held to ridicule as inaccurate and possibly discriminatory. Most panelists wanted a flexible work schedule, presumably to show up any time they wanted.

One nice man with an English accent, remarked that we, as humans, are genetically programmed for a certain type, term, and depth of sleep. And there are only a few (it might have been 17) genetic “types” of sleepers in this world of about 8 Billion people. The four panel participants were then informed we will all be unhappy if our real life sleep schedule does not match up with our genetic “make-up” schedule

Ah, the things rich people worry about…

Or should it be semi-rich? The panel learned there is a “sweet spot” in sleep data and the very rich often suffer from bad sleep. I didn’t get the details–again–about a sleep study showing poor people sleep the worst, but the next group to suffer “bad sleep” are the “very rich.” So if you have no money, you have trouble closing your eyes and getting the sleep you need. And if you are very rich you have trouble closing your eyes and getting the sleep you need. But if you have a Goldilocks amount of money, well, that’s just great.

There’s no problem at all with America spending money and time on finding answers to our population’s needs. But…is how well we sleep, one of them? We tend to think of American Wealth as a bottomless bucket from which we can draw flows of money anytime, and that’s partly true, but a dollar spent on Subject A is a dollar not spent on any other subject.

If you sleep much, yourself, you probably do the best you can to get to bed on time, close your eyes, and stay slumbering for as much of the night as possible. So how is it going? How much of what happens to you after you go to bed can you actually control? If a “Sleep Study” published a detailed report of how people sleep in a research setting, would it make any difference to you? Would you follow the study’s recommendations? Do you have kids? A dog?

I do not sleep the same way at age 74 as I did at 18. Is there a breakdown of age groups in the study? Did my “genetic make up” change? Am I happier now or back at age 18? Ha.

Ah, crap. I’m doing the very thing this essay is about: wasting time. And money.

When I have trouble sleeping, one of the things I do is thank God for my bed, my air-conditioning, the wonderful color tv, the end of cancer in my world, and…you get the point. There are news reports about homeless people. How well do they sleep? Other reports show people sleeping 15 to one room in poor countries, even sleeping on the floor, the dirt floor.

Sometimes knowing people live that way keeps me up at night, mainly worrying it might be me someday.

There is no bottom in the bucket of serious problems in this world, but there are very few humans willing to tackle those problems.

Maybe if everyone just got a good night’s sleep…

BTW: it isn’t hypocritical to waste time writing about wasting time, is it? What about you reading it?*

*The shows panelists learned it’s okay to read on your phone while going to bed as long as you do it standing up.

OCD, Memorex*, or Old Age?

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When leaving my apartment I stop, clear my head, and watch myself lock the door. If any other thought but locking the door enters my mind, the unlocked the door is all I’ll think of when miles from home.  Imagine, if you will**, my feelings when finding the door locked upon my return. Every, $^&%$%ing time.

The same thing happens at my favorite walking trail: If I don’t pay attention when exiting the car, when I am the farthest away from the car on my walk the unlocked car door will torment me until I get back…and find the car door locked. Woe, is me.

During the walk there is a $200 google Pixel tracking watch on my wrist, but I find myself counting steps. Out loud. The count gets to about 80 before I notice and stop it by focusing on something like politics or music. Shortly after, I’m counting, again, and the process repeats.

The brain is a funny thing. Am I getting some form of early onset Alzheimer’s? Or is there a mind-power struggle going on?

If you remember past essays, I am made up of TB, IV, OV and BB***. IV, the Inner Voice, is always the one pestering me about the locks and the steps and other minute items/steps often overlooked by BB, the Big Brain, the overall conductor of everything. BB likes to ignore minor IV warnings since TB, The Body, actually seems to run on its own, without unnecessary instruction. Warning BB to watch TM lock the door after 60 years was not needed, as TB understood to do it after short, historical BB training ending somewhere around 1965. There is specific incontrovertible evidence TB is doing all of its assigned work, including its locking job.

Logic, says then, TB is not the cause of the locking problem, right? BB and OV, the Outer Voice, should be ignoring IV’s false alarm warnings of unlocked doors that are actually locked. TB did its job, so why is IV starting gossip about it? And why is BB listening?

As for the counting of steps, it appears OV is doing the same thing IV did but out loud. BB knows the google watch is counting the steps, so BB should ignore OV, as well as IV. Do they not trust each other and work together, anymore?

Sounds like a simple fix. Communicate correctly or get fired. There’s plenty of IVs, OVs, and TBs looking for work, these days.

So why does the needless crap keep happening? And why is BB troubled about it all? Pull the trigger and clean house.

No idea, but after this careful analysis, it’s safe to say I am not cognitively impaired, possibly OCD, or suffering from any affliction but the unnecessary affirmation of needless warnings from IV and OV. Maybe crossed wires and/or organizational communication.

And if that result is a conclusion from a thoughtful BB, why do IV and OV warnings still set off cognitive warning signals?

And…who is writing this essay?

Maybe we need a little more time to sort this out.

*Hope you’re old enough to remember. But why am I still remembering these ads? Ai says the ads started in 1972 and ended completely in the early 1980s. Is there a large junk file somewhere inside me?

**Another memory issue: this phrase associated with The Twilight Zone, was never used by Rod Serling. Ever. So, “You are about to enter a Fifth Dimension: The Twilight Zone.” Is really the pertinent quote from Rod.

***No idea of what you are made of. You have any idea?

The United States of America, Inc.

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Money, money, money.

Ben Franklin, when asked what type of government he and his wigged friends had created responded:  “A Republic. If you can keep it.” Ai says Old Ben was “emphasizing that while they had created a republican form of government, its survival and success would depend on the vigilance and active participation of the citizens over time.”*

It’s safe to say these days it’s a republic if we can afford it. Not only are all politicians for sale, but it’s hard for normal people, everyday people, to live in it.

And what the hell are the people in advertisements smiling about? Bladder leakage, bulging eyes, HIV PrEP, Diabetes…if they aren’t beaming brightly at the beginning of the ad then they  are bursting into song at the end. And dancing.

Thank God for the psoriasis ads, the ones that are SOOO “Done”. It’s kind of nice to see actual people feeling upset about getting a disease. It is strange to read the small print, and even stranger when it’s read to us. I was 72 years on this earth before I knew what the perineum was and how it can become infected. I wonder if there is another, locker word for That Area.

It is also brought to our attention only rich, successful, well-dressed people buy certain cars.  Next time you watch Cadillac, Lexus, and Genesis commercials try to wonder how much the actors got paid, and what they REALLY do for a living wage.

Anyone reading this start out making $1.75 an hour many years ago? Years. One hours work in 1972 won’t get you anything in 2026 except a lottery ticket and a dream. Guess which one you can eat. This is not a complaint about inflation but how long it takes to adjust to the fact a fast-food burger meal costs as much as full 1972 days’ work. Try to budget for your end of life with those thoughts. Adapt, man, adapt.

By the way, men use one razor. An ad for female “hair maintenance” had one actress asking another “You shave down there with your leg razor?” A man can only deduce women may need many different razors. Finally, a good gift idea for when you get a female for Secret Santa.

Internationally, FIFA, look it up, is trying to “monetize” the World Cup of Football.** FIFA wants to offer “shares” in The World Cup so everyone can share in the money grab. A different article in the news feed says the gap in wealth gap between homeowners and home renters is the largest it’s ever been. Wonder which group will be buying World Cup Shares.

It is no secret our Capitalist Republic runs on money, but the sheer, naked greed and selfishness of the Modern Capitalist is driving our republic off the monopoly board and into a “Let’s Outdo The Jones (Musks?)” no-limit, rigged poker game. Imagine there being $100 to support 4 people. One of them uses his wits and legally takes the entire $100 for himself/herself/themselves. It’s like “herd immunity” in pandemics, but in reverse in economics. If a small portion of the population grabs all the $100, it prevents the rest of the population from getting what they need, and The Poor Pandemic starts. “Cost plus” profit margins go by the wayside and a $1 item is sold for as much as The Rich People will pay for it, even if it costs the poorest among us $20.

What happens to religion in all this? Our government is based on God and his commandments, right?

I wonder…google or Ai “The Prosperity Gospel”.

It was never taught in my church school.

*I copied this Google Ai quote from Emma and when it was completed, CoPilot, my Microsoft Ai, said “the paragraph needed to be rewritten in a better form.” Let the games begin.

**Yes, the Original Football. Not our modern, specialized, monetized, Roman Spectacle.

Three Sentences…Again

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Old age effects memory in odd ways and it is affecting* me. It’s impossible to multitask anymore as attention needs to be paid to each and every action. There are ways to help yourself remember but who can remember them?**

And is memory loss just plain “loss”*** or caused by poor memory retention and/or poor memory recovery?  Imagine an office**** with someone misfiling paper records. Who is to blame when a file can’t be found? And, more importantly, who cares if it’s a one-person office?

A current war’s stated purpose is the denial of atomic weapons to a certain country. There has never been actual proof that certain country has nuclear weapons so we bombed that certain country until we almost ran out of bombs, anyway. We won’t stop, however, because we’ll never run out of money for more bombs.

A recent news story about the United States Immunization Court***** revealed there is still some nuance available when dealing with a “good” that helps most people but is “bad” for  some others. Hundreds of millions of people get vaccinated and several thousand have a reaction to the vaccine. It’s impossible to say if the many millions were saved or helped by the vaccine but it is possible, now, to see how many were hurt, so…?

It reminds one of “Don’t Throw the baby out with the bathwater.” In our polarized country decisions about policy have become binary: yes or no, good or bad. Know anyone who “throws out” bathwater?

That reminds me, idiotic statements are hard to ignore. Who, for example, is The Media? Is it me for writing essays? When a Republican/Conservative criticizes The Media, is he/she/they criticizing the same media a Democrat/Liberal does?

And “Yeah, I mean” needs to be added to the dictionary as one word: YeahImean. Even supposedly educated politicians and professionals are beginning answers to questions with this new word. YeahImean can replace “um”, “uh”, and hopefully “That’s a very good question”****** as a time staller (sic).

Everyone should be forced to watch some version of “The History Channel”, either on TV, or streaming or by audio and other media delivery systems. Not only will we learn how insignificant our lives really are, but also how much we—as a civilization—learn and then forget. With our combined history of three steps forward and two and half steps back, it’s a wonder civilization has made any progress. Fourth sentence needed: Have we made progress?

Okay, what am I forgetting? Oh, ending. Note that it’s getting harder to write just three sentences.

Regarding the last paragraph: I almost typed “harder and harder”, but caught it just in time and made the sentence more simple. How simpler (sic) is that?

Apologies for another three sentences, but Ai says “simpler” means “more easy”, “less hard”, and “less busy”. Really. Sadly.

Enjoy the foot note error. Its more simple for me to leave it. Less worky (sic) for me,

*Can’t remember the rule for affect and effect, so used both rather than spend time asking Ai.

**A Dana Carvey movie about Goldfield’s Syndrome deals with memory issues by having him write notes and tape them all over his home. One of the notes had to be a reminder to write notes.

****An Old School Office with a fax and file cabinets, like the show.

***Vision: A brain with a small hole leaking words and pictures.

*****Google or Ai the court.

******Our current president speaks his mind about “stupid” questions, but who purposefully asks such a question and is our president a good judge of it?