What are you doing this weekend? Me? I’m getting new back tires got my car. I was hoping to schedule a root canal, but the dentist was busy so I decided to do the second most annoyingly painful thing I could. Sure, I like having a car, but I’m not big on maintaining a car. You know, it’s like shoe shopping for the car, and I need to do it before the Summer when we start driving a whole lot. Ung… just not in the mood for it. (There’s no real story here, I’m just complaining.) But I gotta do it, I gotta do it, gotta do it, do it, it!
What am I doing on Father’s Day? Buying tires! I wonder if they run a special for new tires on Father’s Day? If not, they should. No, I’ll get a nice lox bagel that the wife will order for delivery, and then I will need to drive to the tire place while the wife and kid hang out at home.
This seems about right.
But before all of that fun, there is that issue of NO KINGS. If you haven’t heard, there are nation wide, peaceful protest marches planned for Saturday June 14th in reaction to the growing authoritarian threat from Trump and his administration. In case you forgot, this is a nation of no kings, and it’s time to start reminding everyone, including ourselves, that We The People are in charge; that this is a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. I encourage you to join the protest, to peacefully march, and share your voice. If you can’t make it out, then watch the live cast, share videos and messages on social media. This is not a day to be silent. There are many ways to participate, and we all need to pitch in and hold to the ideals that our nation was founded on.
Here is the dog, and she came with me to do the Alt Side Parking this morning. She has a dog bed in the car, as we take her on roadtrips, and the car bed makes it easier on her. Anyway, I didn’t feel like leaving the dog alone at home while I moved the car, so she came with. All she did was lay there, looking at me, wondering when we were going to go some place.
The other thing about this morning is that I found an old pair of pants that I had forgot that I owned. It’s a pair black colored pants that I believe I bought for puppeteering purposes. For whatever reason, these pants got lost in the shuffle, and this morning I found then again. They had been hanging in my closet for so long, the pants had a line of dust on the hanger fold. I easily brushed them off, and to my surprise, the pants fit. (Maybe I am losing weight?) I used to wear black clothes often in my deep and dark theatre phase – you know, when I was a real misunderstood artist and acting was the only thing that would save the world – but since moving to New York, I have actively gone out of my way to wear as much color as possible, and most of that color is blue or navy. But today, with this rediscovery, I decided that I would go forth with black pants today, and I already feel more somber and serious.
I learned last night that the actor, Joe Don Baker had passed away. He is most famous for his role in “Walking Tall” and in the MST3k world, he will always be our “MITCHELL.” Yet, for me, Joe Don Baker was a good old solid character actor. He was a Texan, went to the University of North Texas, served in the Army, and went to New York City and became a member of the Actors Studio. He worked solidly his entire life, usually playing heavies in TV and movies, but he was also in comedies. Hell, was in three James Bond movies, playing two different characters. He was a good guy who did good work, and was very entertaining. So, thanks Joe Don; you will be missed.
I don’t have as many bad habits as I used to. I am a reformed smoker, which was the worst bad habit I ever had, and I know that I am better off. But man… Some nights, a whiff of smoke will catch me in just the right mood, and I get that craving ll over again. I won’t act on it, but it sure is tempting. To be outside of a bar, slightly tippsy, and smoking a cigarette as the rest of the world is asleep. That feeling of being on the edge of the world, almost outside the boarder of normal and decent life. Not a bad person, just not one that fits in. Maybe that’s a tad romantic when it comes to an addiction, and I don’t want to return to it, but like thinking of a long lost ex, it wasn’t all bad.
I don’t want to get too deep into it, because if you know you know, but stupid old Tottenham refuses to give up one winning at least one trophy this year. I had written them off, and I felt better for it, but that damn team went and gave me hope. Just a small drop, a taste of things to come, and now I have started caring again, and that annoys me. I would rather be thinking about next season, rather than what might be.
I am sticking my toes in, and dabbling a little more with AI. You know, to see how it works, and also to hunt down the ghost in that ChatGPT machine.
I have been reading about people using AI to write a “first draft” of letters and reports, and then they go through and make the text sound more human and personal. The thought I had this morning was what would happen if I reversed that process. What if I fed to AI, ChatGPT in this case, was an old blog from May 6th, 2024, and asked it to rewrite the post to make it funnier and more accessible.
This is what it produced:
Something weird has been happening to me over the past couple of years—I’ve developed an unstoppable urge to buy blue clothing. Not just any blue, but deep, rich, “navy captain who lost his ship” blue. Oxford button-down? Yes. Jeans so blue they make the ocean jealous. Absolutely. I’m even considering a blue suit for a wedding, because nothing says “I’m here to celebrate love” like looking like a well-dressed blueberry.
And then there’s my newfound appreciation for khakis paired with a blue shirt. A strong combo, but I swear, if I ever add a puffer vest to complete the look, you have full permission to slap me. Hard. Unless, of course, I’m working deep undercover as a Finance Bro infiltrating a hedge fund happy hour.
Not sure why this is happening, but it’s happening. My wardrobe is slowly turning into a monochrome tribute to the color blue, and I have no control over it.
At first, I thought maybe it was some deep, psychological reflection of my mental state—was I subconsciously craving serenity? Was I low-key depressed? But no, I feel neither particularly Zen nor like I need to stare wistfully out of rain-streaked windows.
To mix things up, I started throwing on my old army coat over my blue shirts, hoping it would give me that rugged Quint from Jaws energy. In my head, I’m a grizzled, sea-hardened badass. In reality? Probably just a guy who looks like he got dressed in the dark at an Army-Navy surplus store.
Is this a middle-age thing? A subtle cry for help? Or have I just reached the evolutionary stage where a man must choose his signature color, and mine happens to be “50 Shades of Blue”?
Does blue make me stand out? Blend in? Who knows. But if that blue comes in a plaid pattern. Game over. I have to own it. It’s like some kind of involuntary response—I see a blue plaid shirt, and my brain just whispers, “Yes. This is who we are now.”
The evidence is stacking up: blue pajamas, navy ballcap, even my car is blue. Sure, my wife technically picked it out, but I’m pretty sure the universe was just reinforcing my aesthetic destiny.
It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when I wore a lot of black—back in my pretentious arts phase, which overlapped nicely with my stage crew phase (a time when I believed dressing like an off-duty ninja was peak coolness).
Maybe I’ll grow out of this blue obsession. Maybe I’ll evolve into a paisley guy. Or worse… argyle.
And here was my original:
Something happened to me over the past couple of years, where if I go shopping for clothes, I want to buy the color blue. I especially like the color navy, but wouldn’t pass up the blue of an oxford style button down shirt. The bluer the blue jeans, the better, and I’m even thinking about getting a blue suit for a wedding I’m supposed to attend. I’m even starting to like the look of khaki pants, and a blue shirt, but swear to God, if I add a puffer vest to that look, you should walk up to me and slap the hell outta my face… unless I’m working undercover as a “Finance Bro.”
I’m not sure why this is happening, but I know that it is.
I thought that it could be a reflection of my mental state, but I feel neither depressed nor calm and relaxed.
I started putting on my old army coat when I have a blue shirt on. I would like to believe that I look like Quint, but I know that’s not true.
Is this a middle age thing? Does blue help me stand out, or blend in?
And if the blue is in a plaid pattern, good lord, I have to own it.
I have blue pajamas. A navy blue ballcap. My car is blue, but the wife did pick it out, but still…
There was a time when I wore a lot of black, but that was my pretentious arts phase, which coincided with my stage crew phase.
Maybe I’ll grow out of it. Maybe I move into a paisley phase.
Clearly, I am the better writer. I’m also funnier, as the AI seems to be trying way too hard to fit in a joke.
