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 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.
Man, is it cold here. Woke up and it was ten degrees. As of this afternoon, it’s only nineteen, and we are going to bottom out at fourteen tonight.
Pretty cold alright.
Not that I mind. You know, last night I had a sweater on, and then a cardigan over that. I was pretty warm. At the moment I am writing this, I have a flannel shirt on with cable knit sweater over that. I am comfy and toasty at the same time.
It is seventy degrees in my apartment, but it feels way colder than that. It’s because two of our walls face the outside, and that cold just penetrates through the bricks. Oh, and the steam pipes and radiator come and go like an unwanted family guest. Believe it or not, it used to be worse in this building.
When I get to experience days like today, I imagine that one day I will have a nice thick and soft tweed suit to put on. And I’m not talking some stylish American tweed suit. No sir! I’m taking about an old wrinkly Irish tweed suit; one that looks like it’s been handed down for a hundred years. The type of suit that is perfect to wear a bowler hat with. It would be my cold weather tweed suit that I would put on when it was particularly cold out, and then just sit around the apartment in it. Maybe drink some tea, see where the day took me.
Anyway… It’s cold and I feel like taking a nap. Maybe reading a book. Or I could play the wife in Mario Kart.
Do you know who Tina Peters is? Long story short, she was a MAGA county clerk in Colorado who help a person break into Dominion voting machines after the 2020 election. She has been unrepentant in her actions, has even become a semi-celebrity in ultra-conservative conspiracy circles. Well, she got put on trial for the crime of breaking into voting machines, was found guilty in August, and was sentenced the other day. Below is the video of the judge sentencing her, and also laying out a very good case of why these conspiracies and the people who propagate them are extremely dangerous to our democracy.
You guys have to watch how this judge put MAGA Tina Peters in her place for trying to steal the election for Trump by hacking Dominion voting machines.pic.twitter.com/gVZwfqOiqq
So, the new season of Great British Baking Show started last week, and I may or may not write more about this season. Or I may wait until it’s all over with to write about it, or I might not write about it at all. Either way, for me and the wife, the lead up to the new season means that we go through and watch the past seasons. Funny the things we remember and the things we forget. The one thing that I remember and never changes is that Sandi Toksvig was the best host of that show, hands down and unquestioned. But the things we forget, like who won, and who made it to the finals, we very often misremember (is that a word?) those details. I would have to say that I am 50% when it comes to remembering who won a season, or who got voted out on a certain episode. But I will never forget the awful mispronunciation of the word “taco.” Paul kept calling it a “Tack-oh.”
I now have a pair of pants whose color name is “Nantucket Red.” (I am aware that Nantucket Red is a specific type of pant from Murray’s Toggery Shop in Nantucket, and what I am referring to is a pair of red pants I got in a thrift shop a month ago, but the tag called the pant color by that name.) I like the pants because they fit well, and go with several shirts that I own. Yes, there is a WASP-ness to the pants, which I feel I pull off ironicy. But at the end of the day, they are a pair of red pants, which can feel like a bold step for a person as modest as me. The only other guy I knew who proudly had a pair of red pants was the comedian/improv performer down in the Lower East Side. He was funny enough for a guy who was 22, right out of college, and trying to make their way in NYC. And his thing was the red pants. He always had the red pants on, and would tell people he always wore these red pants. I took it to mean that he wore the pants when he was out performing, like a costume. No, his girlfriend confirmed that he wore the pants all the time. He even wore them in the shower to “wash” them, she said. I still think it was a bit.
This past weekend, the wife and I reached a huge milestone in our parenting adventure; we attended our daughter’s first soccer match. Actually, it was a mini soccer tournament between different elementary schools, which meant that we sat through seven, ten-minute matches. (It was co-ed teams that played five on five.) Though the day was colder than we expected, we had a good time watching, and the kid’s team came in second place.
But getting back to the point – the kid is now at the age where she is playing sports that have games. This isn’t like the sports classes we put her in when she was little, where the kids learn how to dribble a basketball, or pass a soccer ball. Nope, she’s on a team that plays games, therefore these kids will experience winning and losing, and all the emotions that come with that. It is a bit of a rite of passage.
And that passage has begun for some of the families there. When the tournament started, and teams began to be eliminated, kids started crying. By my observation; all the crying was coming from the boys. Even on my daughter’s team, when they lost the final by one goal, everyone was disappointed, but only the boys sat down and cried.
My kid, and she is very competitive, wasn’t happy at first, but once the sting of losing wore off, she started getting more philosophical about the whole thing. She told us that second place was better than how the four other teams did, and getting to the final is pretty impressive. It also helped that she went home with a medal, which was her first, and is hanging up on her wall.
