The End

Some Things But Do Not Believe All Of It

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My news feed sends many news articles, including these two attributed to “Ai”:

1. Historic theory proven: A 20-year-old prediction on autonomous distributed entanglement has been confirmed by Austrian researchers using a quantum bath of correlated photons.*

2. Historic quantum milestone: Aalto University (Finland) has demonstrated the first cyclic superconducting quantum heat engine, merging classical thermodynamics with quantum mechanics.**

Both “articles” refer to one of my favorite essay subjects but are the articles factual? I could ask Emma, my own Ai…

Less serious note, President Trump has been “accused” of attaching “gilt” to fixtures in his offices. “The incident came after DJ Judd, a White House producer for CNN, spotted a stick of Krazy Glue on President Donald Trump’s Resolute Desk during a Monday evening Oval Office appearance,” reports The Daily Beast.”

If it is factual, do you care? What does the existence of this story say about the President, CNN, and The American News Consumer? And how will it affect the Elmer’s Products, Inc, profitability?

I’m helping out at local free-food programs. The attendees are a small sample size in a small city over only two sessions and are not just the homeless, but the needy, too. The first impression is how upbeat, and conversational they are. The presence of free food may be the cause but one thought is universally true: “Don’t touch my stuff.” They carry their entire life with them at all times. In idle and not fact-checked conversations, a medical crisis usually causes the need for free food. Worse, most are unable or unwilling to enter the health care system, even with a free ride to the doctor. Do you think our politicians could do anything about this?***

Sobering thought: how much longer do you have to live? “Sobering” might not be a good word. Emma says “A sobering thought is something that causes you to be thoughtful, serious,, or realistic, often because it reminds you of a harsh reality.” Okay, maybe it is a good word. How often are you sober and what do you think about when you are?

Of  note: Emma was stumped silent with one question: “What was Ted Williams’ monthly batting averages in 1941?” She tried mightily but eventually went into a long pause. I shut her for her own good. Meanwhile, a “normal” google search said Ted’s average NEVER went below .390 in any month of that year. He was batting .39955 on the last day of the season–which gave him the statistical .400 batting average–and he was advised to not play the last two games. It was a double-header. He played them both, got 6 hits in 8 at bats, and raised his average to .406. No one has batted .400 since. 85 years. Ted also led the league in home runs, walks, runs scored, on-base percentage, and slugging percentage. These are facts and they are interesting since in Major League Baseballs; recent All-Star game, one league of All Stars struck out 15 times. In one game. Batting average, probably 0.000. Strike-out Average: .555

The good old days sometimes really were The Good Old Days. Unless you’re a fan of futility…

Now there’s a sobering thought, damn Yankees.

*If the article is factual, I may give “Beam me up, Scotty” travel instruction before I expire. And who among us might like a bath of correlated photons?

**I’m in the beginning stages of all the Quantum possibilities, but unlimited heating, cooling, computing, propulsion, and climate control appear possible, as well as a destructive force so powerful…let’s forget that one.

***There are hungry and homeless people in countries with National Health Services. Are they healthier? Are there fewer sufferers—per capita—than the US? More later.

Fathers Day, with no apostrophe or apology

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Aging is interesting. Not to the young, of course, but there is a point in everyone’s life when we “suddenly” realize we are aging, if not “aged”. It is what happens after the realization we will talk about, here.

Fathers Day 2026 was an interestingly humorous celebration.

I probably learned about Fathers Day way back in The Early Years. Fathers Day was first proposed in 1909 in response to Mother’s Day.* Fathers Day was officially “recognized” in 1966 by Lyndon Johnson, and Richard Nixon made it a National Holiday in 1972. I was unaware of these dates because in 1963 I was learning how to shelter under a wooden desk if nuclear missiles were headed to upstate New York.** In 1972, I was either drunk, blazed, or courting the second or third “love of my life”. Honoring dad was the last thing on my mind. It didn’t help the holiday that my father and I had a unique relationship during my 1960’s teen years, and I wouldn’t have honored him, anyway.

It’s safe to use “aging” as an excuse for not remembering the first time Father’s Day caused my day to be about someone other than me.

But here’s the thing: the concept of unimportance has floated through my conscience many times over the last few months. It started with the China documentary where the repeated cycles of Dynasties rising and falling over hundreds of years led to millions of people—perhaps billions—dying simply because they were of the wrong family, cult, religion, or geographic area. What was important to those people? Did they have scrapbooks of family photos to pass down to survivors? Were their deaths heroic? Were there any survivors? Did they have special days for Fathers and Mothers?

And then there is politics…the rise of one party, the decline of another, and the passing of time making us forget all about The Whigs of the 1830s-1950s. And remember when Republicans were Democrats and Democrats were Republicans? And who can forget The Teapot Dome Scandal and Tammany Hall shenanigans, corruption at its finest. You remember, right?

Of course, you don’t. It doesn’t matter, now. Any of it. So what does matter?

National Geographic put out a wonderful chart detailing the rise and fall of “civilizations” through the ages. The Romans. The Incas. The Mayans, The Greeks. What do they all have in common? They’re gone, and we dig in the earth to find about as much as we can about them so we can…make the same mistakes?

It isn’t the rest of the World that forgets the lessons of the past, it is us, individually. We don’t pay attention. Even worse, we have the hubris to think we are smarter than The Romans. Even smarter than the Greeks.*** And we work harder than the Mayans. And we know better what to do with the Land than The Mohicans.****

It was Fathers Day last Sunday and the current local family met for burgers, beers, hot dogs, potato salad, and farting around the table. Of note, there were two whole barbecued chickens none of us had room for, even after passed gas made more space.

But as I sat there, watching kids, grand-kids, and talking about a great-grand-kid 1,100 miles away, the idea of how temporary life is swung into view with a thud. I’ve personally known over 50 Fathers Days, thanks to a young marriage and fatherhood. Is there any difference from the first to the last? And how many will the young people around the table experience?

I’m not sure where this essay is heading, but the Fathers Day tableau gave me something besides a sore butt from an uncushioned wooden chair: my time on this earth has been okay and would be okay, no matter what happens in the next few years. I am headed for an activity billions of people have already done, and everyone at the table would eventually do the same.

“It isn’t the destination, it’s the journey.” Please google this phrase. Ask Ai about it. They have more resources, space, and ability to explain it. For even more fun try it this way: “It isn’t the journey, it’s the destination.” And don’t believe everything you read.

*With an apostrophe. Google it. Or Ai, it.

**Don’t laugh. The air base sending B-52s to Russia was 5 miles down the road.

***We must be smarter because so many of the Greeks were homosexual and bi-sexual. How long can a civilization last with activity like that? 4,500 years?

****Google them. I dare you.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream, My Ass

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Shakespeare* wrote those words–except for “My Ass”– hundreds of years ago when a well-known, porcine-related character discussed death with himself. It is a profound, deep-meaning soliloquy with oft-quoted-out-of-context short and long sentences with clauses, semi-colons, and dramatic commas resulting in an excellent rant about Existence and the The End**.

Modern American Seniors have their own opinions, however, on what The Bard of Avon was really referring to: actual loss of sleep. It is odd how William makes “the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to” seem so dramatic when all we really hear is there is too much going on to get some, good, solid, long-time sleep. There are no “slings and arrows” flying across our bedrooms*** but there is a lot of cerebral activity. So much activity the poor brain stands as if in the doorway of the bedroom, ready to flick the light switch off but…can’t..do…it.

A thought racing across our brain cells IS sometimes the knowledge we can put ourselves “to sleep perchance to dream” in a very real and permanent way but we’re just not ready yet, so…

Instead we ponder the Cognitive Impairment conundrum: how it creeps up on us and when we have it, we won’t know, even as we wonder who put our car keys in the produce drawer of the refrigerator.

Or we wonder why we feel so good but still can’t generate enough interest in a late dinner at our favorite restaurant to get us out of our favorite chair.

And is there anyone who will listen to us and invent easy-on, easy-off socks?

Even worse: is there anyone who will listen to us at all?

The night then becomes a debate between…what was I talking about?

Oh, yes, how hard it is to sleep the good sleep, anymore. Most nights start well, even when the Yankees lose. But after the first few hours of sleep, when the first bathroom “break” wakes us with an unnecessary urgency, and shortly after we check the refrigerator for the perfect, healthy snack that won’t harm our brushed teeth or sensitive digestion system, it is the re-falling back asleep that fails, utterly****.

After the many nights this happens it is clearly no longer about slings and arrows or The End, but a thought all its own that consumes one: will I ever get back to sleep? The question is accompanied by the close observation and analysis of anything that comes to mind from the macro, like our current high inflation, to the micro: will I be warm enough without socks?

Running out pf space, as usual, but when your own brain becomes your own sleep disrupter…well, I never remember that happening as a young man.

Hmm. Is that because of a bad memory, it never happened, or Cognitive Decline?

Let me sleep on it.

*Probably. Or he may not have. Or someone else did. A guy named Bacon. Or an alien.

**Most Americans probably can recite this speech by simply muttering every short, trite saying they’ve heard about Shakespeare. To be or not to be. Whether tis nobler.  To sleep, etc…oh, and “the tyranny of life”.

***Or any of the other areas we may try to get (eye) closure.

****Wonderfully guttural word. And, yes, that is how I found my keys.

*****In upstate NY the temperatures change fast. A semi-nude, 80 degree outside sleep session can be sadly ended when the toes warn your body the early-morning outside temperature has dropped to 60. Socks, again?

Accentuating The Positive

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A friend recently congratulated me for getting back to “normal”, and “improving” after the years with The Calamities. The quoted words angered me. Though it wasn’t her fault, I launched into a text rant so interesting, honest, and cruel it scared me. She was only trying to be positive but…

The words are the problem. The message, not the messenger, so I apologized and hoped The Rant did not affect her own senior mental state. For me, it was cathartic to finally be able to verbalize one of the many cloudy issues plaguing Old Age: we age physically faster than we age mentally, at least most of us do. There are anecdotes of early onset cognitive impairment, but for most of us getting old is a lot like long, birth labor or “failure to progress”. A part of our existence, the mind, is not at the stage of life the body is, so…

Many of us are still the quarterback of our high school football team well into midlife. Or for a female symbol: Carrie Bradshaw.* My personal manly physical prowess was consistently overestimated** well into my 50s. Minor honest efforts were made to retain that prowess, but age adds a sliding, disconnect between what we do and what we think we have done and the gap separating the two gets larger each season.

Suddenly, and for a reason we tell ourselves we don’t understand, we look in a mirror one day and see the body of someone else.

It is shocking, but our minds still allow for some wiggle room: even when we buy all new pants, we still think we’ve got “It”, and will lose the weight.

Back to The Rant and my friend. Her words incited The Brain to find a way to explain the real “progress” aging means to the rest of my body including both Inner and Outer Voices: once we pass a certain age, we NEVER “improve” and the “normal” changes daily, and not in a good way. Every element of my existence is thankful for the instruction.

We can still have moments of physical, mental, and spiritual clarity leading to contentment and possible satisfaction with life, but we will never be what we were, ever again. It is what it is and we are what we are at each and every age. And the age we accept that realization is different for each of us, with some never accepting it at all.

When we are young, each mile of the race is faster, even as we go up the hill, then we hit the top and start down that long, knee-pounding decline to the last mile, and finally, The End. “Improving”? “Normal”?

We can work with normal. In fact, it has a measurable component in sports. If you run those miles*** you know how long it takes from the first step to the last. If you’ve kept a record, you could use Ai to plot a graph or chart. It’s amazing how clear life is when you see your run times charted and that physical hill appears on the graph. Up, up up, then down, down, down. Life.

So where is the positive? First, at least you were able to do things, great things, normal things, and things you loved. Never forget that bit. Second, the disconnect between what we feel we are and what we really are is finally understood late in life, especially by those who pay attention. The Wisdom we used to hear about when we were young. And even as you run your race slower and steadier, there may be times you can let loose, and get close to your best time for at least a few yards…

But improvement and normal have to be flexible and on your own terms. Carpe linguam and change the narrative.

*Younger women and men will need to Ai the name. Or not care to know.

**Not a good word for it since there was no conscious thought of my “estimation”: I simply knew I was still in great physical shape, inconvenient truths be damned. Ora at least ignored.

***Or swim those laps. Or bike those roads. Or complete those marathons…et.al…

America, the beautiful? The Great?

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I awoke in the middle of the night, alarmed, then saddened, then in a panic about America. It’s a place I’ve inhabited and loved and criticized, demonstrated against and then accepted, but always a country with the historic ability to survive the worst impulses of each new generation. We will survive.

But this time? I no longer see the Trump presidency as a 4-year pandemic we will recover from when the political system resets itself and heals its wounds.

In 12 months, or less, our democratic (Small “d”) political system will no longer exist. The Republican Party, historically a dedicated and patriotic foe of the Democratic Party, is already extinct.

Trump is putting in place Billionaire yes-men/women who will do whatever he wants. (If they aren’t billionaires when Trump appointed them, they may be soon.)  At the same time, he is destroying, neutering, and obliterating any person, department, or institution standing in his way. And he’s doing it at record speed, getting everything in place to defy the 2026 midterms.

His press secretary reveals the plan with every statement she makes: obscure, deny, deflect and counter attack every, single truth. Her job description? Truth will be what she is told to say it is. Trump put her in place to render the free press ineffective. That “free press” cannot handle someone who lies, distorts, and fabricates so much the press cannot keep pace. As the free press spins in circles over here, Trump does what he wants over there.

The Trump Plan involves a massive amount of snookery and public-facing deception. The sheer volume of lies and atrocious behavior will overwhelm the 260 million people who did not vote for him in 2024, and they will wear down, look away, and allow him to do what he wants. It’s a form of public, Chinese Water Torture.

Most Americans do not realize the extent of the changes already made. DOGE is not a government efficiency finder, but a money finder and re-applier. Stop spending money on Voice of America and spend that “saved” money on bribes to foreign countries to take back immigrants. Spend formerly legally appropriated money on illegal activities like flying “terrorists” back to any country receiving the Trump Bribes. (Why else would El Salvador accept hundreds of Venezuelan gang members?  And will these “terrorists” be released back into the world if Trump’s bribes stop? Is it possible our newly-muscled border watchers will see these terrorists, again? Are the deportees even terrorists/gang members? Do you know?

And the March 21, 2025 $20 Billion Trump just gave Boeing for the new F-47 Fighter? Here’s a transparent description of the total cost from Trump, himself: “We’ve given an order for a lot. We can’t tell you the price.”

DOGE? Attack!

Billionaires are buying into the Trump Agenda because they see lower taxes, less regulation, and ultimately the ability to do whatever they want, when ever they want to do it.

And this will go on for at least four years, or until The King dies of natural causes. Then, the fight for the crown will lead to more Un-American activities until a new king is crowned.

Is this what 77 million voters wanted?

Even today, after 2 months of the expedited plan, the average, Fox-informed American will say “Yes.”

So be it. As they like to say, “Elections have consequences.”

Recently, Stephen Miller was on Fox News calling one of his critics a “moron”,  a “degenerate”, and “stupid”. The lame stream, mainstream, legacy media Fox News presenter just giggled. Yes, Fox is lame-steam, mainstream media.

On the comedy side of things: as Trump, Miller, Musk, and related antagonists invent new monikers for all who disagree with them, Musk threatens lawsuits for someone calling him names. And Trump settles old grudges with the unlimited, emperor-like powers Trump says voters granted him. And the Supremes** will back him up.

Make America Grate Again.

Believe this if you can: I hope I’m wrong. Really, really, wrong. I fervently hope this post is just more of the Trump Derangement Syndrome, the mental condition a Minnesota Republican lawmaker wants to write into law.

Bet I’d be happier about things if I was deranged. For fun, look up the “Oxford Languages” definition for deranged. It will sound familiar…like someone we all know…

** Apologies to Diana Ross and the rest.