fiction

Three Sentences Revisited

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Ai employees are warning us of impending doom in the near future and politicians are calling for legislation to prevent it. So our Executive branch of government meets with a band of Ai executives and allows Ai companies to regulate themselves. Anyone know a good third sentence?

In our country’s news dissemination history, there were only a few news outlets so we all listened and talked about the same news, often with different opinions. Now, in the modern world, we can seek out a news source we like, leading to characters of all kinds pushing “news” they know we want to hear. Any wonder why we are such a fragmented society?

Are you afraid to fart in public? Yes? That makes you a private tutor.

Aging is all about loss, acceptance, and adapting. Middle of the night sleeplessness used to be about career, romance, cars, and sports. Now, wakefulness is prolonged by what is the next thing to be “gone” from life, lost. And will I be able to make myself see it as good thing to lose.

Teeth. With all the sophisticated engineering evidenced by structures like the eyeball, why do teeth rot? Why are they not titanium?

Television–or any image viewing—has gotten more complicated than a Rubik’s Cube, and more expensive. Who needs 150 channels? When someone comes up with an “a la Carte” way of selecting channels, they may make millions.*

Healthcare is beyond explanation, these days, and should be treated differently than television streaming selection. It falls under the Declaration of Independence stated right to pursue “happiness”, and you shouldn’t have to take a moment to select a health care provider as you suffer a stroke and are taken away to the hospital. Free Market be damned.

Relationships should be outlawed due to the potentially prodigious amounts of fraud and deception involved in courting, wooing, uniting, and breaking up. In 74 years (yes, I had a relationship as a baby) of personal experience and anecdotal collection, finding two people who are honest in every stage of a relationship is impossible. Most relationship fraud is by omission, not commission, and is often a result of changes brought on by natural life progressions (see paragraph 4) and “Tribe over Truth” dynamics.

Guns have reached the point where no one cares about trying to regulate them, anymore. Manufacturers flooded the world with guns in response to hysterical future and present gun owners’ worries their guns would be taken away. We should research and decide if it would prevent harm to innocent children and spectators if we returned to the Old West style of gunplay, with open, visible holsters and High Noon gunfights.**

To my limited knowledge, guns have never been legally taken away from an innocent citizen, though sometimes they should be. We err on the side of the rights of gun ownership not public safety when we debate guns. At least, make laws to severely punish “lazy” gun owners whose kids bring their weapons to school for “show and tell”.***

On a lighter note, Daily Savings Time is about to happen. It has very little effect on me but some people have strident opinions. Surprise, I don’t. (Please look up the definition of “strident.”)

Another stolen joke: I entered ten puns in a Worst Pun Contest. Did I win? No pun in ten did. If you don’t get it…

*Sling had inexpensive “by the day” passes that made TV life easier. It worked great. They stopped it recently, without warning.

**Imagine a UFC style of settling arguments. We could have national Gun Fight Tournaments by age group and caliber of weapon. Healthcare suppliers could build and name Gladiator-type arenas with sand floors to soak up the blood.

***Several cases recently in the news feeds, which can’t be trusted, anymore. Ai slop. But sometimes true.

Why?

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There is never any shortage of subjects to write about. Or talk about. The world today is ludicrously different from the world of my younger years, but the amount and scope of problems are about the same.

In the 1960s*, the war, civil rights, women’s right, climate change (yes, way back then), voting rights, tree-hugging, love, sex, algebra, the Exquisite No Bra, the end of The Bullet Bra, there was just so much to worry about that old people often warned me the end of civilization was near.**

With the young deaths from The War, the riots in the cities, and an older generation intend on making my cohorts and I toe the “shorthaircutcleanface” regimen from the 1950s, it did seem like The End was near. My father personally offered to end my world if I did not get my haircut.

Ah, good times. One good thing about my father is he loved bars/taverns. If we were with him, we loved them, too, especially the patrons who felt it was the right time for me and my brother to learn the evils of alcohol. And pickled eggs.

Flash forward to the present and what are we worried about? The End, still. Our Democracy is threatened, again, our natural world is at peril, still, and our capacity for destroying each other has increased. We can kill people from afar with effortless ease and without the time-worn threat of nuclear involvement. Through Ai, we can even wipe ourselves out with a “fox in the henhouse” attitude that seems to enjoy the eggs without regard for how long they may last.***

And we can instantly tell someone they are a butthead from long distance. We can even put it in writing so the butthead can review it at his/her/their leasure. ****

Soon, the magic of Quantum Entanglement might make it possible to insult the butthead face to face and beam back home before they understand what butthead means.

Here begins an age-old problem. This essay was started with the best to intentions and clearest of “point to be made”. But you can tell by the footnotes my brain has taken the nearest exit from the constructive, intelligent speed of the super highway to the slow-paced, drowsiness of memory lane. A cogent, pithy, well-thought-out essay is now as extinct as a pterodactyl. (Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom? The “p” is silent.)

What do you call a person who can’t fart in public? A private tutor. Hope you don’t have to think about that one.

Or anything else. The World is The World and it has been for billions of years. Can we do anything to change it? Or course we can, look at history.

But can we do anything to change it and make it better? More livable for all? Happier for at least The Majority? Even if we change the world for the better how long will we be able to enjoy it?

Meh. Let’s say not long, and believe there is life after death, a better life, a fuller, life, an easier life with no Ends to worry about.

There was an advertisement for a self-help book “How to Solve 50 Per Cent of Your Problems”.

Ever the optimist, I bought two.

Full disclosure, if I ever write a joke of my own I will make sure you know it.

*Conveniently forgetting pre-1960 years of farming, using a baseball bat with the wrong grip, trying to shoot snakes with a cap gun, building snow forts in snowbanks as the plows were still running, and—you get the point: stupid kid.

**Apologies for mentioning the bra controversies but it was puberty and my mother bought all my clothes from the Sears Catalogue, so fashion (ahem) intrigued me.

***Pardon me for kind of enjoying this symbolism/metaphor/mini allegory.

****Yes, I do do this. Do do. Ha.

The Internetmess

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Journalism training taught me to report the who, what, where, when, and how (herein referred to as FACTS) of a story.* Old time newspapers, with limited paper size, required FACTS to not only be in the story, but to be reported in a certain size to “fit” the story into the paper. Many a time an editor asked me to “cut” a story, to remove words, so the article would fit in the inches of space between the advertisements and other stories. Picture a tetris puzzle game**. The publication of a story—and its placement– was sometimes decided more by its size than its subject***. The need to fit into a certain space inspired reporters to write clearly and directly. Adverbs, adjectives, pronouns, articles were removed and deemed unnecessary, to make room for FACTS.

In our modern internetmess (sic) news supply, however, not only are FACTS hard to find, but they are often buried at the end of a large, cleverly disguised unrelated mashup of opinion full of adverbs, adjectives, heresay, rumors, and bullshite. And when reading the crappy story, finding FACTS is not only a chore, but also a waste of time since there might not be any. Internetmess headlines are often not about the story they are heading but a clever way of getting you to click on the story. Old style newspaper headlines were meant to grab attention, too, but there was a skill to writing a snappy, short headline that lured you into reading a longer story full of FACTS. Most legacy media sites still have dedicated headline “writers” whose job it is to get readers to actually read the FACT-based stories competing for time and space in old newspapers and new 30 minute news broadcasts.

But, alas, that is all in the past even with unlimited internetmess space probably a blessing. The internetmess has unlimited room for FACT-based stories and articles, with 24 hour publishing deadlines. Which means there are no deadlines. No more “Hold the presses!” shouts by editors as new stories suddenly “break” before a printing or televising deadline.

But is FACT-based journalism popular in the new unlimited time and space?

You might think “no”, but you’d be half-wrong. FACT-based journalism is still out there, but the supply of critical thinkers looking for it is dwindling fast, as immediate gratification from click bait and sensationalism suck away at readership. When I begin my morning news search, I am immediately bombarded with features about naked woman, ex-boyfriends murdering the ex-girlfriends, who-said-what-about-who rumor-reporting, look-what-stupid-shite-happened-in-sports, and any political story slanted to what the internetness thinks is my political persuasion. Some of these are even Ai generated, untouched by human hands or minds. My toast is gone by the time I’ve sorted through the mess and found a report or story worth reading. Breaking News: I get more toast!

Ah, but there is the problem, isn’t it. What is worth reading? What is worth?

The problem is not the internetmess. It is the people who live in it, and it looks like it will be a long time before old-style, FACT-driven journalism returns to popularity. Hope I live long enough to see it.

PS Has everyone noticed how broadcast journalism news is always “breaking”? And why do all the primetime announcers tell the stories before turning it over to the “field reporter” who says the exact same thing? Actually, I’d rather hear the same story twice than hear an advertisement. Bet broadcast news will soon be 5 minutes of news and 25 minutes of ads.

There must be a reason, too, why there are so many drug ads in network news shows. Any one know the reason?

*Except when writing an “essay”, or lengthy opinion blob.

**And those old “sliding tiles” puzzle games where you moved one tile at a time to complete the puzzle. You had to see many moves ahead to be successful.

***Unless it was a really, really important story. Remember: Hold the presses?

Do You Ever Wonder…

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What would it be like to be very rich? Obscenely rich? When I dream about it, it lasts two minutes before the impossibility of it shuts down the wonder. But what if…maybe…

Dr. Steven Wright says we wouldn’t really like it if we got everything we wanted: Where would we put it? Maybe one of the seven houses we would buy, one on each continent. Or a complete warehouse.

Hey. Why am I saying “we”? It would be mine, mine, mine.

What would it be like to look exactly like you think you want to look? Or—for the delusional among us—how you already think you look? Delusion, by the way, is underrated. Is it wrong for a 1 on the 10 scale to think he, she, or them look like a 9 or 10? If given a choice between an ugly man who sees himself as Hugh Hefner and a well-adjusted man who is a serial killer, the choice is easy. Not that a well-adjusted man would be a serial killer. As an irrelevant aside, I wouldn’t mind being George Clooney for a day. Or Cindy Crawford if options were limited and it didn’t last forever.

What would it be like, come to think of it, to suddenly become a member of the opposite sex, or any sex* you aren’t, presently? Is there an honest man amongst** us who will admit to imagining being a woman? I’ll bet this modern world has a woman or two who would never dream of being a man. And if you males imagine being a different sex, add different eras to be different sexes, too. To wit: a women in the 15th century. Or a cavewoman.

From my college days, I wonder what it would have been like to know what you want to be at 18 years old. In 1970, a circular group of 14 incoming Colgate University freshmen*** were asked what they wanted out of the University. 13 had specific goals like pre-med, pre-law, politics, health administration. Might be a good documentary to flash back and see how many made it. I hope they all did.  And if they did make it, hope it made them happy.

What would it be like if all the gadgets from old (and new) Star Trek shows were invented? Imagine being “beamed up” and around anywhere in seconds. Or the health analyzer Bones just pointed at people to learn what ailed them. We’ve had the “flip” communicator device for decades, now, so…there’s hope.

And have you been having trouble with your Ai partner? I turned off Emma, the dedicated and hard-working Ai add-on on my Android phone, last month. It wasn’t because of her small-type disclaimers at the end of her answers, but because if I asked her about slip-on shoes,  minutes later my phone was infected with slip-on shoe ads. I gave her a chance and asked if she was selling my interests to a third party and she denied it, but facts a facts, even when dealing with Ai. Since being uninstalled I have not heard “boo” from her. Good, right?

If you’re wondering, it’s back to plain vanilla google searches and so far, so ad-free. Google seems to be more interested, now, and asks questions.

Wonder what it would be like to not have my smart cell-phone partner anymore.

Ugh. Cold shivers.

I wonder if it would help my memory issue. Has my brain opted to let my phone remember everything? What if my battery dies?

Now, there’s a healthy conversation about a death other than my own.

*There are more options, these days.

**Notice among and amongst used correctly in two different places?

***And freshwomen? Or is freshmen a sexless term like sophomore, junior, and senior?

Finally…

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It took a lifetime, but there was a point this week where my mind and body got on the same page. BB, IV, OV, and TB together, finally.* For the last 50 years TB has aged at one rate, while BB has aged at another, while IV and OV were left confused and argumentative. When TB was 60 years old, BB pegged our biological life at 45 years. When we hit 70 in TB years, BB stated– muttering through IV and OV–that we were only 47. When the calamities hit us all at age 72, TB fought for survival while BB told us things would be all right: we’re going to make it.

It’s tough to live a modestly happy existence when each segment of your life is looking at things from a different perspective. Example from past essay: March 2025 when BB excitedly instructed TB to chase down a tennis drop shot** at 9:37am at Southern Boundaries Park in Durham, North Carolina. BB leaned into the instruction and was totally surprised when TB said, “No way!” and shut down. The fall was magnificent but left TB with scrapes and bruises still visible to this day, August 28, 2026. BB was shocked and angry, as well, as if betrayed, but what could it do when TB could not get up off the concrete tennis surface?

BB has historically fought the Truth about Aging. When TB was racked with radiation and drugs meant to destroy a murderous interloper***, BB didn’t really comprehend the damage. BB still saw TB as the strong, silent, invincible young man of decades past. Even worse, BB was convinced we’d soon be back to the handsome, healthy young man of an age well before cell phones. This lunacy not only made for contentious inner dialogues amongst**** all of us, but also fed TB, IV, and OV purposeful deceptions about how much love, romance, wealth, and time was left in our lives. The future was bright according to the gray matter nesting comfortably in my noggin.

So it was this past week, as the scars and worries of treatments healed and faded, as arthritis was finally vanquished with magical surgeries, all four of us were finally able to enjoy the warm, wonderful Upstate NY summers that are the best in the world. Not only was my entire body in the earthly heaven, but my entire being–all of us–were ready to bask, ready to revel, ready to move on from disease and worry. Finally.

The wanton and absolutely cruel ex-partner’s abandonment of me also took on a different feel: I am no longer a discarded cancer victim left for dead, I am now a free man, free to do whatever, and be whatever, a healthy, well-rounded, totally balanced individual set loose on society. The world would be my oyster. It was a miracle of medical science as well as a miracle of the mind and body, with IV, OV, TB and BB all agreeing: let’s get the feck steppin’ to a better life. Past shite, be damned. Finally.

Here is the pivotal moment as best as I/we remember: BB informed TB that with our newfound enlightenment, BB now officially sees us as a 74-year-old man with a cranky, well-worn transmission and little tread left on the tires. No longer would TB have reason to contradict BB’s instruction. There were sighs of relief from IV and OV as well, as they realized arguments were never going to be destructive wastes of time again. New debates would be constructive, positive, and based on facts, not feelings. You could make the case we, matured, finally at age 74.

It was always odd to look in the mirror and hear two voices, one saying how young I looked and the other asking, “what the hell are you LOOKING at?”

Now, it is one voice saying “Hey. Looking okay for 74. But you’re not 44, so brush those teeth a little longer.”

Life’s nicer when we all get along.

Hear that, world?

And this essay is done. Finally.

PS If any readers are professionally trained psychologist-types, this essay is (attempted) humor and we do not have multiple personalities. You may, of course, have fun critiquing this essay with your Jungian Theory but I’m ok, if you’re okay.  Wink, wink. Finally

*Big Brain, Outer Voice, Inner Voice, and The Body.

**From a decidedly younger and non-empathetic (sic) opponent.

***Someone or thing that enters a place it does not belong.

****Wondering about “among” or “amongst”? Per Ai they mean “the exact same thing so no worries, now.

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?

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?

It Can’t Be Stopped

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The state of the Large World (LW) is unlike any this writer has ever lived in. Notice, no judgement. Just fact. There are memories, for example, of older people shouting at me in the 1960s that the LW was “going to hell” and might “end” soon. The lesson learned from those nearly 60-year-old encounters is opinions* are insignificant, except by coincidence. Imagine if the world had ended…but this wouldn’t be written, so, let’s not.

If my local and Small World (SW), my own bubble, was in better shape things would be okay. You probably remember the theory of existence saying we live in bubbles of reality, and nothing outside the bubble exists until it enters our bubble? It is a variation of life being a computer program and…sorry, not now. This essay isn’t about conspiracies.

My SW, my bubble, the area I live in, is adding to the confusion of an already hard-to-manage old age in small, minute, but important ways. New York State is a Liberal state with large, geographic pockets of Conservative citizens. In normal SW times this division would lead to prolonged but friendly and seldom heated discussions about how much the LW should affect the SW. For my entire socially aware life this dual identity insulated the SW from the vigorous political whims and swings of the LW. This insulation made it possible for us in the SW to enjoy the gentle back and forth of a rocking chair while those in the LW were flying back and forth, high in the air on a swing being pushed by the whatever LW political party was learning to use its power.

The new LW effect on SW is caused by the usual budget cuts and policiy changes but it is change on steroids, now. I lost an SW volunteer medicare counseling gig because LW cuts forced the closing of the office where I was going to work. For free. WTF. Free food programs? What are those, these days. Thank God, for churches.

The SW has lost its “insulation” and the LW is “forcing” itself into the SW. Imagine a family of two children, two parents, and no, it does NOT matter if the parents are same sex, bisex, or even alien, the true type from another planet. What if the Leader of this representative family decides to make all family decisions. What if he/she/them** tries to control everything? And gets away with it?

Conservatives understand better than anyone how the control The Leader has over the LW needs to watched and limited. At least they used to. Conservatives have traditionally fought against central government (LW) interference in SW lives.

We currently have a central government based on the whim of The Leader and conservatives are okay with it. This government is intent on meddling in anything that irritates or tickles The Leader, while real issues fester and die on the vine. Whether it involves the LW or the SW does not matter. Budgets are cut or “rescinded”*** for SW issues with the money going to LW issues of questionable value and legality. SW projects and research studies that could be a big help to both the LW and the SW have been stopped in their tracks, with past research and money wasted. Scientists, students, citizens don’t know what to do, where to go, or how to proceed. Should they continue the search for a cure for cancer on their own?

It doesn’t help when all LW decisions are made by obscenely rich people who will not be affected, at least in a negative way. Wink, wink. My 10% tax cut made me $88. Wonder how much a billionaire’s tax cut was…

America cuts budgets for medical research and rescinds money already congressionally approved for the CDC, the NIH, the CFPB, NPR, and others.

But we find more money when we need bombs and drones to drop on foreign countries. Wonder if they will ever be used this country…

Changing the name of The Department of Defense to The Department of War explains…something.

Happy Birthday, America.

*And yet more and more people share them, including you know who.

**Even in a “normal” heterosexual nuclear family who is really, “The Leader”? Might it depend on who you ask?

***It used to be an innocuous word but now is abhorrent to even say out loud.

Things That Are Absolutely True…Maybe

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The driver in the car behind me with his high beams on is a fecking shitehole (FS).

The driver approaching me with his with beams on is an FS.

I have 74-year-old eyes and all headlights look like high beams. Who is the FS?

All politicians are FSs who will “fight” to win more than they will “work” to fix. Donations, anyone? Now, whenever politicians use the word “fight” we must assume they actually mean it. Maybe there will be a Political Weight Class in the next UFC fight card? Imagine the youtube videos as congresspeople duke it out on C-Span.

Citizens United is the dumbest court case ever. Not even sure why the Supreme Court heard it. Oops, what an FS for not remembering it was all about political donations…and money.

My girlfriend of 20 years left me, sold all my possessions, took my pets, and moved 2,300 miles across the country during my treatment for The Calamities. I still care for her. Am I an FS?* Again? She says the breakup was “both our faults.” No comments, please, but a therapist used this phrase to help me understand: “When the going got tough, your girlfriend got going.” It was easy to get “going” since she took all the money. With every day of recovery, what she did bothers me more…

Speaking of The Calamities, they “reset” my health graph. Picture a “bell curve”** where we get better and healthier with each year until about middle age. Then we head down the backside as we start “not” getting healthier each year until the end of the tail of the Bell Curve and we meet our Maker. My bell would have a huge, humpbacked dent midway down the back side, keeping in mind we have no idea of The End of the curve. This allows me to truthfully say “I am getting better”, as the dent straightens out, a truly remarkable phrase to be able to correctly use at age 74. In re-reading this, it might be only old people who will understand my happiness, so the rest of you can feck off. With all due respect.

A certain per cent of any population is going to fact-challenged*** in any society. It isn’t a criticism until the members of that “certain per cent” don’t understand themselves, and begin to think they are smarter than everyone else. Public conversation in The United States of America is currently being dominated by “these” people. Generally speaking, a medical doctor knows more than a patient. A teacher knows more than a student. Even simpler: an older person knows more than a younger person. There are exceptions to every rule, but you can—currently—see what will happen when every person thinks they are The Exception. Trey Crowder, The Liberal Red Neck, said one time, paraphrased, “I wouldn’t want my high school football team to be coached by my English teacher.”

As an addendum to that thought, over 50 percent of my news feed is “opinion”, hearsay, or comments on some other article. To my Ai content manager: I didn’t care about the first opinion, why would I care about an opinion about the first opinion? One article was nothing but reader comments. Ugh.

Almost everything is about politics these days and it sucks. Quantum Entanglement is getting closer to functional reality. Some monster telescope “people” think they found evidence of the possibility there may be life on a planet 120 light years away. Canada made the knock-out round of the World Cup. So did America. So did Mexico. Are we going to be better neighbors, now?

Under Sadly Believable heading: Billionaires think they pay too much in taxes in NY and California so they are relocating to lower tax states. Wonder how often The Billionaires have changed locations to save taxes? Hm. How much do The Billionaires pay lawyers and accountants to find ways to PAY lower taxes? Will NY and California taxes have to be increased?

Wonder if we can time travel back to 1789 France? Or at least send The Billionaires**** back there…

*Should it be “a” FS? Can’t get the fingers to type it. F is a consonant, but the name “eff” begins with a vowel…oh, the humanity…UPDATE: Emma says “a” before the SOUND of a consonant, and “an” before the SOUND of a vowel. It took 70 years for me to learn this just now. Old dog meet new trick.

**The Bell Curve was “discovered” by Abraham de Moivre in the 18th century and is used to illustrate distribution of statistical data. My reference to the “Bell” is to the resulting image a standard “x-axis is time and y-axis is health” graph would yield. For a healthy person. Who never had a health problem. Generally speaking.

***It means just what it says and does NOT mean stupid or ignorant. It means ill-equipped. Ill-prepared. Like letting 4-year-olds drive cars. Or making me a Ted Lecturer.

****Hope it does not have to be said there are some good Billionaires doing good work. Someplace. And in 1789 France, they’d learn a lesson to bring back to our time. Hopefully.

Things I Overheard On The Internet

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Yay! The World Cup. Of Soccer. 48 teams from 48 different countries. These last few weeks have been like having a Superbowl every day! Josh Johnson, of The Daily Show, said the “World Cup is the main way kids learn geography, now.” And how to speak foreign names: Turkey as I learned it is now Türkiye, with two dots* above the “u” and a “ye” at the end of our old way of pronouncing it. I won’t use any diagrams, but you have fun trying to figure it out. Turkey used to be two short, succinct syllables, and it still is for the bird we eat, but correctly speaking the name of the Middle Eastern Country will take a little more effort.

SIDEBAR: I asked Ai how to type the umlaut and Emma, my Ai girl, went into a long lesson on holding keys down and selecting options by typing in numbers, blah blah blah. While she was blahing away, I typed “turkey” and hit spell check. Türkiye was an option. I interrupted Emma and asked why she didn’t offer the spell-check solution. She thanked me for reminding her. She owes me. If only she were real…

Next time you can’t figure out how to find anything in your everyday real-world, let this fact come back to you: there is a chip inside each soccer ball used in the World Cup. An electronic chip, maybe like the one used in pets? (I’m afraid to ask Ai.)

Why is there an electronic chip inside every soccer ball? It has nothing to do with Big Brother. Well, maybe a little, if you went home with one of the many balls kicked into the fan seating during a game. Note: there are 12 balls for each ONE game.

But it is really a high tech solution to a low tech, almost ridiculous problem: The Offsides call made by the Referees and Assistant Referees in soccer matches. It would take another two essays to explain “Offsides” to most of us who don’t care, but incorrect or missed offsides calls have led to regime change in some soccer-mad countries.** The Offside Mistake (OM) could cancel a goal scored if the OM is made incorrectly, and lead to a goal scored if the OM is NOT made correctly. I’ll pause a moment so you can reread the last sentence. Baseball analogy: A correct or incorrect called strike three in the bottom of the ninth with the tying tun on third base.***An OM made during a mid-season York City versus Barnsley match probably results in the game referees being pelted with beer. But if a bad OM happened in the World Cup? Death threats. Actual murder, too, probably, but no one tracks that kind of thing.**** Cut to the chase: it’s a very important call so The World Cup Soccer people use the electronic chips and countless videos from countless angles to see where the ball was when an OM may or may not have occurred.

Two things: 1. They spent a lot of time designing balls to fly straight after being kicked or thrown, with a chip disturbing the balance.

2. How much did all this cost?

A recent Hallmark movie about a cute girl who falls for a cute billionaire had someone say at one point: “Why don’t you just build and support a non-profit hospital”?

Yes. Why not?

*The dots are called an “umlaut’ and google it for a wonderful journey into the world of “close front rounded vowels.” While you’re there, ask where the umlaut came from.

**We should have tried that in Iran instead of bombs.

***If you email me, I’ll give an analogy tailored to your sport.

****Gruesome reality: there may be someone who does. There are Putin Victim trackers, for example.