**This is complete fiction; I’m sure coffee is great**

I’ve always hated coffee, the look of it, the smell of it; it’s the nasal equivalent of an old-fashioned fart bomb going off in your face. I don’t understand how you people drink it. I didn’t understand that until Sophie introduced me to Senior Magellan’s Spirit Roast Extra Dark coffee blend. Just opening the sealed package was almost orgasmic; smell those beans! I can’t wait to boil them in water and drink in the earthy aroma. At that moment, I got it, and I wished I hadn’t.

The package said that to get the “full effect,” you should drink at least three cups a day, morning, noon, and night. That seemed like an odd instruction for any drink, let alone one with this much caffeine, but I try to always follow instructions, and I wanted the “full” effect. Down with cup one.

I didn’t feel anything—just a little tingle in the back of my throat — and I was definitely more alert after the first cup. I hoped this wasn’t it, but then it was time for cup two. After that, I realized I might not want the “full” effect; I started seeing double, and my head started to ache. This wasn’t great. Around this time, my heart started dancing, and it was time for cup three.

Three was definitely the magic number. I was floating on air, awake, aware, and alive like never before. I ran from the third floor to the seventh floor, back to the basement, and then up again; I hadn’t run that way in years. I was doing the work of five people and texting all my friends at once; there was no way this feeling would go away, so I drank cup four.

In retrospect, cup four was a mistake. I started moving fast, from desk to desk, throwing things off the desk into the rest of the office. Eventually, I even started turning over desks, apparently yelling, “Ahooooga!!” with every throw or toss. People ran out of the office and poured into the streets, some even screaming. Then, suddenly, and without warning, I dropped. Passed right out on the floor.

I woke up on a gurney, with a couple of EMTs screaming in my face, “Are you awake?!?!” What if I wasn’t? Would I be able to answer? I felt cold, queasy, and completely spent. The last thing I heard before I passed out again was the heart monitor going flatline. Damn, what was in that coffee?

Yes, this is how I view people strung out on caffeine, including myself. Yes, I hate coffee. No, I don’t hate you if you like coffee. Yes, caffeine is a drug. Yes, I’m on my third lifetime attempt not to ingest much caffeine. No, it is not going well. That is all.

Disclaimer: I'm not claiming both parties are the same. They are stupid and awful in completely different ways. For my foreign readers and friends, I am so, so sorry you have to put up with our nonsense.

Here I am, the day before the “most consequential election of my lifetime,” again. I’ve lost count of how many of the most consequential elections I’ve voted in, but it’s more than a handful. See, back in the old days, you know, the 90s, that wasn’t really a popular rhetorical device. Why? Because everyone knew that, no matter who you voted for, most things don’t change after an election. That’s no longer true, not since the unholy orange termite invasion of 2016.

Things change, a lot, and people can really feel it now. Those people are, of course, folks who are already challenged by our system. That’s who these people target, because it’s “easy” for them. They know the truth; you do too. Neither democrats nor, especially, Republicans actually care about helping anyone but themselves. Sure, you might get that one in a million presidential candidate who actually cares about “real” people, but you know he/she will just fall in line once elected.

Elections are hopeless. Take this one. Ooh, a big blue wave, supposedly. Okay. Great. What’s that going to actually change? Investigations? Sure. Will anyone go to prison for crimes they’ve supposedly (and almost assuredly have) committed? No? Cool. Will a president who was clearly deranged before any dementia set in go away? No. He will likely get worse once someone explains what happened to him in simple terms. I remember when a president couldn’t even wear a tan suit without being absolutely lambasted for it; that wasn’t that long ago either.

Okay, so, Wednesday rolls around, democrats have pulled off their so-called blue wave; what then? We have two months of absolute chaos, and what? Does anyone really think that’ll change in January when a new Congress is sworn in? It won’t. I know, I’m a pessimist, but I’m also a realist. Democrats are incapable of playing the kind of hardball necessary to deal with these cretins currently in charge of our country. They could do it. They could, but they won’t.

To paraphrase a great movie, we have real problems in this country. We need real people to solve them. Not so-called business people and certainly not more lawyers or used-car salesmen. We need people who actually care about the problems facing this nation, self-inflicted or not. We need people who understand that America isn’t what you’ve been sold your whole life, and that this nation will take hard work and hard conversations to live up to its lofty creed. Everyone should want that. That should not be controversial. Yet we’re still arguing about things that go back to the founding.

I do not believe republicans are interested in solving those problems, and I believe democrats are too weak to do so, but here I am, about to vote. I am faced with the choice between a bunch of demented hyenas trying to rip the country apart, and a few sheep who can only bleat at them meekly. I am a voter who is voting against my will. I know neither party will attempt to fix what ails us. It makes me sad, being held hostage in the country I’ve called home for over a half century. Our voting is performative, and I’m not sure it will get better in my lifetime or ever.

I was hoping that writing this all out, as with other issues in my life, would somehow feel better. Even if it isn’t better, it would feel better, relieved somehow. It doesn’t; I’m as depressed about it as when I started. Maybe I’ll just go get some medication to shut my mind off, like so many obviously have. No. I’ll likely just find some other hobby to occupy my brain with instead of constantly worrying about how truly and totally screwed we are as a nation.

Big tech CEOs are assholes. Forgive the language; it’s just how it is. That’s not my opinion either; you can tell just by listening to them. They’ll blather on about how it’s a shame folks use computers at home. They’ll pump their future stock values by claiming their AI will be the first to wreck humanity, and I don't completely follow this logic, but that’s where we’re at. When they do talk about AI actually helping with something, it’s always curing cancer. I have my doubts that cancer will be cured by an LLM or an LLM variant anytime soon; I know some ways it could actually help.

Agriculture. Since we’ll likely all have to start growing our own food, I decided to learn more about gardening and plant management. I’m a nerd; I like to learn, but I admit it’s a challenge. My grandmother never opened a gardening book, but she could grow vegetables, fruit, and more. She did this in a tiny plot in our backyard, in the middle of a big city. It always amazed me because I could never grow anything. How do you know when to water? How do you remember the name of every plant out there? I mean, there’s a lot to it. My mother-in-law also has this skill. She glanced at my homemade pumpkin patch and told me I needed to do something about the disease my pumpkin plants (which I grew from seed) had. She was right, unfortunately too late, because they didn’t make it.

Houseplants

My wife and I are the patron serial killers of houseplants. We’ve killed so many over the years that I suspect if they had wanted posters, we’d be on them. Our thumbs aren’t green; they’re some form of plant-killing goo. I decided to take some action late last year; see the paragraph above. No more Mr. & Mrs. Plant Killers, nope; I discovered the miracle of self-watering flower pots! Woot. Feed them? What do you mean you have to feed them!??! That was new to me. I thought water got nutrients out of the water; I’m such a city boy. I haven't found a self-feeding flower pot yet, but I’m sure they exist.

I found a site called Easy Plant; go check them out. I’m not affiliated with them in any way other than being a customer. They sell healthy, already-sprouted plants in self-watering pots. This was like finding gold in California's hills in 1849. After keeping a few plants alive for a few months—hey, that’s an accomplishment for a self-admitted plant killer—I added more. Then I added more, and now we are overrun with healthy, pretty plants that, allegedly, help us breathe better, too. Honestly, I could end the story here, and it would be a complete success, but there’s more.

About two months or so ago, I discovered one of my plants wasn’t doing that well. It was, for lack of a better term, soggy. I was doing everything right. What I learned, and what Easy Plant desperately tried to tell me, though I admit I didn’t read carefully enough, or at all, is that plants need water, but not too much, and not all at once. Basically, don’t let your plants sit in water. I diligently filled the self-watering reservoir every month like clockwork. I didn’t, however, wonder whether the plant even needed watering that month. I figured they lived on water, so they should have as much as they can handle. Some plants just can’t hold their liquor — I mean, water. I fixed this by skipping a month of watering just to see, and the plant came back to its happy little life with no direct intervention needed.

This got me to thinking about some plant monitors I had seen. There are all kinds, but I just needed one that would tell me how moist the soil was. Some also tell you about the soil's “fertility” level and all that, but I’m not some weird plant breeder, so I didn’t need that. I found two kinds that I liked: Ecowitt makes one that is oddly gun-shaped, and Third Reality makes a flatter one. I use a mixture of them, depending on the pot size. I realized I was missing something, though. The apps knew nothing about the plants I had or their watering needs, because they vary so much, so I needed a database of my plants and their needs. Enter AI.

I’ll leave out the exact nerdy stuff, since this is a more general piece, but I used AI to gather the needs of my various plant species. Even if I'd googled and captured all the data, it would’ve taken hours, if not days, to collect and curate it. AI did it in minutes. Keep in mind, I use my local AI almost exclusively, so it didn’t draw crazy amounts of power or anything. This is a solid use of AI.

3D Printing

I like to combine my hobbies, so sue me. I needed the application I built to know what plant it was dealing with, so I came up with a stake design. Okay, the design does a lot of work here: it’s a spike with space for a tag. It has a small QR code you can scan with your phone; it opens a link to a web app that tells you all about the plant. It also has an NFC tag that does the same thing, but that was just to be fancy. More importantly, an API connects to that app and lets the Python script that runs this pull plant data. I always know how “moist” my plants are (now including my outdoor plants).

For the outdoor plants, this web app/Python combo even tells my sprinkler when and how much to water. It’s a great setup for a poor gardener like me.

Finally, because I branched out beyond buying houseplants from just Easy Plant, I started building my own self-watering flower pots. You would be shocked at what you can do with a 3D printer and a small knack for engineering.

I think this is all part of my favorite ways to use technology in my more natural pursuits. I fully admit I’m not a plant expert and likely never will be. That’s okay, because technology lets me learn and keep my plants alive.

Resources

• Cthulhu Stone Self-Watering Planter - Free 3D Print Model - MakerWorld
• Dracula Self-Watering Planter - Free 3D Print Model - MakerWorld
• Haunted Tree Self-Watering Planter - Free 3D Print Model - MakerWorld

https://github.com/billford/yard-tracker

I get it. AI can be a bit scary, and it can be terrifying on many levels. First, there’s the whole “oh, I hear it’s going to destroy the world!” Then the good old “oh, it’s going to take my job!” It most certainly won’t do the former; the second, though, possibly. For many positions, unfortunately, definitely. Now we come down to your AI policies for your “very” successful site that relies on user-created content. What do you do?

You’re pushing AI in your product line; you’ve sung its praises for what it’s done for your marketing team; you’ve even testified before government boards about needing a few more data centers to really keep it going. You love AI. Your AI policy, though — your AI policy bans all uses of AI, yeah, I used a real em dash there, perfectly legitimate. Does that make sense? Of course it does, if you’re a massive hypocrite. You cannot have your cake and eat it too, or at least, you can’t have your AI generate an image of you having and eating it, no way!

I’m going to give you a real-world example. I’m not an AI absolutist. I think it’s good at some things, so I use it there, but it’s horrible at a lot of things, so I don’t use it in those situations. If I were still running a business, I would hope I’d have the same convictions. One area I use it is my new, except really old, hobby of 3D Printing. The machines have gotten so easy to use; after you upload the design files, it's practically on autopilot. Compared to 15 years or so ago, it’s amazing. What do you think they’re all starting to include in their printers?

That’s right, AI. Now a lot of it is, “Hey, the printer threw an error; we’re going to goofily use AI to point you to our wiki.” That will likely evolve into using AI for active maintenance, troubleshooting designs, etc. Shockingly, AI isn’t that bad at this; ask me how I know? I know, because I use it. This is my process, simplified for space.

I have an idea; for example, my wife ran over a pumpkin, so I draw it out, usually poorly because I can’t draw to save my life. Then I write a vivid description, down to measurements if I have them. So for this one, I just wanted a big enough sign for my wife to read when she’s backing up, nothing too dramatic. I wanted a jack-o'-lantern on it, drawn from my horribly sketched picture. We needed some stakes so it would stick in the ground. The message was simple: “Don’t Hit My Pumpkins.” I stretched that and the pumpkin across three full-size boards. The font was called “Creeper,” perfect for Halloween.

You’re probably wondering what AI did with all of this? It wrote the machine code and all of the documentation. I sent it to the printer after making sure everything lined up with what I wanted, and poof, my sign printed. The problem? The website where these sorts of things are printed has turned viciously anti-AI. And, again, I get it, to a point. They’d have a case if their own product didn’t scream "AI" every time you turn it on. They’re not exactly on the moral high ground here.

— Did AI go and gather all the pumpkins in the world to draw that? Nope, I did because I can’t draw.

— Did AI go and steal the slogan on the sign? Nope? I came up with that because I can write and it’s not that clever.

— Did AI decide to build that troll my wife? No, I did.

— Did AI build any part of that design? No.

All AI does in the process is save my hands from a lot of typing. I am actually having surgery on my hands probably by the time you’re reading this; that’s how bad they’ve gotten. I need all the help I can get. AI helps me. I've gotten rid of all the things people complain about in my process. I use my own local AI, my own servers. I don’t use it to write at all. I do use it to draw, but only to clean up my horrible drawings, not to create anything from scratch. In this way, it's an incredible time-saver. Guess what?

Some maker sites, including those owned by printer vendors that salivate over their product’s AI integrations? They don’t want you using AI when you post your builds. No one seems to see anything wrong with this. I think I’m trapped in a timeline I don’t fully understand.

In my view, a policy has to make sense, or at least be logically consistent. If I used their AI to make my design a reality, would that be okay? No? Huh? Make that make sense: you put a feature in the software/hardware, but I can’t use it to show off the work on the machine’s own site? What? Imagine if you used all of Photoshop’s neat AI abilities they crow about, but you couldn’t use the results on one of their various show-off sites. You can’t, but Adobe lives outside all our timelines, so there’s that.

We’re adding to all of the AI hysteria by making nonsense policies to enforce nonsense positions that aren’t backed by any sort of facts. It annoys me, and I had to rant. I have a lot of things I dislike about AI, many things I simply refuse to use it for; this policy thing, though, might’ve been better off letting a machine write it.

I have been coming to Oliver's for, I don’t remember, how long. It is definitely a favorite. I came in today, though, and it was quite a shock. It’s as if it completely changed overnight. The formerly almond-colored tablecloths were replaced with stark white; the silverware has this too-shiny silver tint. It all seems too artificial, with no character. How did that change overnight?

I was here just Tuesday—oh, what was the date, June 11 or 12? I swear my memory would run away from me if it remembered how to run. Maybe it was last Friday, or maybe Thursday. Wow, the service has really gone downhill too. I’ve been here ten, maybe fifteen minutes? I don’t know. What is going on today? “Alice? Service, please?”

Rude. Alice walked right by me. She never does that. Why is she seating people right next to me? She knows I hate that. Doesn’t matter, I guess; if I could just get some food, I’d be less grumpy. Maybe I’ll go wash up; that might make me feel a little better. Ugh, nothing seems to work in the bathroom. What is that? Even my favorite mirror in this place is broken; no reflection. I didn’t know mirrors could break. Wait, can they?

Finally, Alice is near my table; some food should be on the way soon. I can’t believe it’s taking this…long. What’s this thing on my chair say? “In Loving Memory of Al Langstrom…2022.” What is this? It has to be some kind of sick prank. It’s 202…wait, what year is it? “Alice!?!”

When I shouted, I noticed the tablecloth bottoms moved back and forth as if in a breeze. Now I know it’s some kind of weird joke! This just isn’t true. I can’t be. Can I? The broken mirror? The plaque attached to my chair. Am I? Am I de..?

“Yes,” a voice from behind me said, followed by, “It is finally time to go.”

This was inspired by the results of a new project of mine in my “Promo Engine” software. It sends me a random, original writing prompt every Sunday morning. A story, an article, as I said, random. This one was a ghost story about a ghost in a restaurant. I am trying to push myself and let something else come up with prompts, at least for one piece a week.

Ghosts eating in restaurants are always fascinating, especially when they’re just figuring it out. Think Bruce Willis in The Sixth Sense. This obviously drew inspiration from that scene. Anyway, on with the week, cheers and all of that.

I’ve been accused of many things in my life; the worst, I fear, is appearing not to care. I don’t overreact, am seldom “upset,” and I cannot remember the last time I cried. If you need someone to have a big, over-the-top reaction, I am not the guy. You won’t see me pounding on a coffin at funerals or wondering out loud, “What am I going to do?!” Things just never hit me that way, but I do care. I care deeply.

A good friend once said I was a robot with a sense of humor because I do laugh; that’s my one big emotion. Humor. Otherwise, you don’t see much of a visible reaction on my face. That’s how I’ve always been: not too sad, not too mad, hardly ever glad. As my grandmother used to say, “Boy, I think you’re from another planet.” I probably am. This quirk of mine seems terrifying to a lot of people. Not to me.

My, who's counting, first or second actual girlfriend. Okay, girl, I saw more than once; we were around fifteen or so, and she would hit me to see if I was breathing. She would say, “At least you’re funny.” We didn’t last long; apparently, I wasn’t funny enough. This weird, unintentional stoicism ran through my entire childhood and well into my adulthood, thirty-eight years in, by my count. I haven’t been able to shake it too much.

I used to have employees in complete shock that I seldom reacted (again, unless it’s just to be funny) to so-called crisis situations. I never got much out of it; overreacting to every little thing never made me feel better. I imagine, if it had made me feel any better or anything at all, I would’ve reacted more. It has made some things more difficult for me, as you can imagine. Some friends understand it; some don’t. That’s life. But do you know who, unapologetically, doesn’t understand a stoic nature? Kids.

Once my daughter came along, I had to start showing emotions more. Kids don’t understand why Daddy doesn’t smile. That made me feel things, so I adapted, and I’m careful to show emotions about what I’m feeling. She’s ten now, so I’ve dialed it back with her, because this new generation of kids is very much like me. They feel big but show little. “That’s cool” or “Sure, why not?” have been replaced with a variety of rapidly changing terms. “Of course” or “Yep” are the current ones. I think we missed the “that’s lit” phase, but I don’t think anyone really said that.

A few weeks ago we took a trip to New York, and my daughter complained about the walking, complained about the noise, and smiled only when asked for pictures. She honestly seemed miserable. A couple of days ago, my wife mentioned that she wouldn’t have to go on future NYC trips if she didn’t want to. She exploded! Her face even changed expression. “What!” “I loved that trip!” “It was so much fun!” Unlike her Dad, she apparently has feelings and isn't a robot. Whew.

I have always wondered why anyone would ever come to me for advice or to listen to their problems, and I’ve finally figured it out. I actually listen; I don’t react. Part of that inner nature — don’t react until you’ve thought it through; then do so calmly — helps when people are upset. A situation is never helped by both people being emotionally out of sorts. This isn’t some newfound way of behaving that I’ve discovered; it’s just how I am. It’s taken me fifty-three years on this angry, blue rock to figure it out, but I’ve finally got it. My offbeat, weird personality quirk is actually useful for something. Weird, I almost smiled at that.

“There is something in the New York air that makes sleep useless.”

— Simone de Beauvoir, America Day by Day

That something, these days, is the stench. It’s powerful, but not in the way that inspired writers and poets past. No. Today it’s marijuana mixed with tobacco mixed with vape smoke. Throw in a little trash on the streets, and you’ve got yourself a bouquet of rotting capitalism. Oh, well, I love the Museum of Modern Art.

The dilapidated mass of humanity on the city streets makes me wonder why I came here at all. I don’t even like most people that much, and I hate to be touched. Alas, I’m a sucker for a good Broadway show.

You can tell the native New Yorkers because they look the most beaten down by the system. It’s mostly in their eyes, exhausted by the hectic pace and never-ending grind. Don’t believe me? Spend one minute in a busier place, like Times Square or really any part of Fifth Avenue. They’re ready to pack it in. Rent here, for a one-bedroom studio, is around $7,000/month now, I hear. Damn. I bet they love all the food vendors, though.

I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it much, but I do so less and less every time I’m there. It’s dirty, it’s loud, it’s a living, breathing cloud of pollution. I am sure it’s just me getting grumpier as the years go on, but I’m not sure. The city has definitely changed. I’ll still go; I’ll still see shows, but I'll probably enjoy it less and less each time.

The problem is, I don’t even have concrete reasoning for this hatred — none. Nothing bad happened; in fact, I’ve never even been robbed in NYC. I mean, I didn’t care for seeing Trump’s big, stupid-looking wax figure at Madame Tussauds. That’s probably it.

The single biggest problem is that, I know, it’s a city on an island. Those never end their existence well. They fall into the ocean, or become mythological places no one can ever prove existed. What if that happens while I’m on that island? No way I’ll like that. At least the last thing I’ll see before a catastrophic collapse into the ocean will be a well-performed musical about some topic I don’t even care about.

Anyway, here are some more stupid pictures about a city getting worse every day. Look at those pancakes, though. Yum

The Friday the 13th movie franchise is one of those things that defy all expectations and understanding. If you pitched this movie to an executive, even in the 70s/early 80s, they would’ve laughed you out of the meeting. In fact, private investors funded Sean Cunningham’s dream of capitalizing on 1978’s masterpiece, Halloween. On paper, though, Jason didn’t work.

Imagine a slow, lumbering killer chasing teenagers (well, twenty-somethings playing teenagers) through a sleepaway camp. “Long Night at Camp Blood” was the original title, not quite as catchy, but it pretty much tells the whole story. Somehow, someway, Jason’s first starring outing was a masterpiece in its own right. Yes, it was a little derivative of some earlier horror movies, but it imitated them very well. None of them had the sequel success, but I doubt that was the earlier filmmakers' goal. In fact, the ending was added after a makeup artist saw Carrie, or so the rumor goes. I guess the original writer hated the idea, but it was added anyway, and that's where the sequel money begins.

Anyway, I promised quotes; I try hard not to clickbait, so while Jason himself (no spoilers) had no speaking lines, others did; here are some of my favorites.

Yes, I know, Freddy—the King of One-Liners—sneaked in there; he’s a tricky sort that way. However, they did do a movie together. It’s not the best movie in either franchise, but it's a respectable team-up, crossover, whatever you want to call it.

Slasher movies are the backbone of late-70s/early-80s horror. Their monosyllabic names ring out in the horror hall of fame (I have no idea if this exists): Michael, Jason, Freddy, okay, Chucky too. They were also staples on VHS, so every kid my age had easy access to them. My sister and I watched them long before we were old enough, and it was a lot of fun in our house. Parental note: My 10-year-old daughter has yet to see a slasher or horror movie. This took a lot of effort on my part because she really wants to; I need some positive encouragement, folks.

I have read lots of posts and articles about how these movies are misunderstood, and they’re really allegories that teach lessons. That’s all nonsense; they’re good old-fashioned fun. You’re allowed to have fun with movies now and then. Do you really think the events in these movies actually happened? They’re not historical pieces; they’re just practical-effects-driven nightmares that make it fun to figure out how you and your friends would escape. Fun!

You’ve seen them before; Waze sometimes warns you about them. The dreaded traffic cam, or, as my Waze has taken to calling it, a speed trap. I encounter no less than eight of them, EIGHT, on the way to my daughter’s school in the morning. As the school year has gone on, I’ve noticed that I tend to tense up a bit and slow down when I know one of these traffic bots is watching. I guess that means they’re working as intended. I still hate them.

I’m not a reckless driver, not at all. You would have to go back 25 years to find an accident I was involved in. I was sitting still at a stoplight, and a lady just rear-ended me. Sitting still! She was looking for her kid’s binky…in the backseat. You have to go back almost that long since my last ticket. I was, again, sitting still at a stoplight and glanced in my rearview mirror. It must have been a trauma response because the guy coming up behind me was not stopping, so I ran the light. I got a ticket; he went off scott-free.

I say all that to say I’m not a reckless driver, but I do attract them sometimes. They’re almost always Hondas. Read that post; it’s true: the Devil always drives Hondas. Anyway, this isn't an article about me being mad about getting a ticket, I promise. It happens so infrequently, and I do sometimes bend the speed limit, that I can’t be angry about it. What's the point, then? I’m annoyed that a robot is somehow now admonishing me for a behavior no human even saw.

As I said, I go this same path five days a week, six if they’re having some special event at the school; I never see a cop. Outside of one little spot, where he sits to catch people forgetting they’re going down a hill, he sits at the bottom. That’s it. The traffic cam that “caught” me is almost in the road because it’s all farmland on both sides, nowhere for it to sit except where that city’s tornado siren is. There is no place for a cop to “monitor” the system as is, allegedly, required by Ohio law. I suppose they could be monitoring from HQ, but I sincerely doubt it; they’re just hoping no one bothers to challenge the “ticket.” Now let’s talk about the piece of paper I got in the mail.

If I wasn’t paying close attention, I would’ve thought it was spam. First of all, it’s ugly. That’s fine; most government documents are ugly, I guess.

Who the hell would think something with a URL like “reviewmynotice.com” was real? First of all, notice? I thought it was a citation? They don’t use that word until much later.

This part of the letter is the part I felt particularly annoyed by. How dare they essentially extort the ticket fee from me? I have the right to face my accuser, who is a robot, so it can bite me — okay, it can’t, but you get my meaning. So, sure, I could go to court; I might even win, but by the time I get there, I'll be stressed out because of whatever issues I encounter before the court starts, etc. Is it worth it? Nope. That’s what they count on. The ticket fee is less than the penalty. Insurance rates going up, points on my license — oh my! So, why fight it? Not responding at all is, apparently, an admission of guilt. I’m not really sure how that works, but okay.

Remember when I said that in Ohio it’s illegal to have these cameras without an officer monitoring them? Apparently, it’s now okay to do all of that monitoring after the fact. How do I know? This is why:

He wasn’t monitoring it at all. He inspected recorded images. I think we’re playing fast and loose with the law here, but hey, police officers can do that, right? Right? Oh, you can’t see it because I cut out his signature, but you can hardly read it anyway. He has a “DET” in block letters, not cursive, like the rest of the scribble. They want you to know it wasn’t just any old officer reviewing your heinous crime; it was a DETECTIVE. Impressive.

This post is mostly ranting, but I do not like being treated like a child by any government. The ticket could’ve easily said, “Hey dummy, you were doing 12 over the speed limit, pay up.” I would’ve paid, as I said; I deserve the ticket. I could argue about speed limits, etc., and a lot of people do. As a civil society, we have rules that need to be enforced. My concern is that this one seems to be really enforced.

My daughter’s school is 9.9 miles from my house. As I said, there are eight of these cameras between here and there, depending on the route I take. Now, those are the cameras Waze picks up, or as I can see, it could be more. So, slightly less than one per mile. That seems a little excessive to me.

These are rural roads, not high-traffic roads. This little town is on the lowest end of the low-crime spectrum. According to Google, most of its “erratic” driving stops are due to mechanical issues or driver arguments; this is not Cleveland proper. They initially reported 3900 tickets issues in the first month. I’m no math major but 3900x150 sounds like a lot, it’s $585,000 by the way. For nothing more than hosting the camera and “catching” someone going 12 miles over the speed limit. The camera triggers at 11, so I was one mile over the “catchable” limit. I am obviously such a criminal.

Sometimes someone will say actual human, English words to me, and I’ll wonder, “What planet are you from?” Of course, I used to mean this facetiously, but lately? Lately, I am unsure. Folks, I might be starting to believe aliens are here and are wearing people suits. I’ll explain.

The other day, an old friend was talking to me about some personal stuff. I won’t divulge the details due to the sensitive nature of the matter, but it was deep stuff. I am trying to convey how important it was that I understood what she was saying; it was life-or-death stuff. As she talked, I realized I didn’t comprehend a single word she was saying, outside of “the” and the occasional “um.” It was mortifying, so I asked her to back up a bit and start over. She did, and I swear, it took me about a minute to really understand her sentence structure and word choice. The only conclusion for me was that she’s been replaced by an alien. Okay, it turns out she had a bad cold and a headache, but I think I was close with the alien thing.

This happens to me all the time, and especially with the news, I swear a lot of these headlines have to be made up. “AI is going to destroy the world!” AI can’t even correct my sentences properly; how is it going to destroy the world? I read this morning that “Trump is Going To Bankrupt The Kennedy Center If His Name Isn’t On It!” I mean, he bankrupted a bunch of companies and casinos with his name on them, so I don’t think that really matters to him. There’s an AI “actor” out there called Tilly Norwood or something. The Today Show interviewed it as if it were a real person, then acted shocked that such a thing existed. “AI Actor taking other actors’ jobs” was their little headline. No, the AI actor doesn’t get paid; it’s not taking anything. A better headline, if they weren’t all aliens, “Corporate malfeasance once again looking at the bottom line instead of what’s good for the industry.” Aliens will never admit these things.

So, as I reflect on all of these things, most of them rants, I am more and more convinced that aliens have taken over our friends, our politicians (though I think this happened long ago), and our airwaves. Conspiracy theories abound, but how else can these things be explained? It must be aliens.

It seems lately that everyone has lost a marble or two. Try talking to someone of a different political persuasion, and you’ll see what I mean. They use words and phrases that are out of this world. “Well, what about Sam Taragucci?” and when you ask, you’ll get an even more convoluted answer than you dreamt of. It’s all so weird. I am unsure how we got here.

The other day, I was at lunch, and across from us were these two older couples. Normal-looking retired folks in their comfortable tracksuits. I will admit, I didn’t find out until later that they had just come from a robust pickleball match with “Suze,” at least that’s what we’re calling her because I didn’t understand much of what they said. They used a lot of weird words, but Suze really liked to loopie the tookie, or something like that. From what I could gather, looping the tookie meant Suze was, and I’m quoting here, “a cheating whore.” Pickleball is war!

Now, so-called Suze didn’t know how her name was being dragged through tens of kinds of mud in the restaurant. Who walks in? That’s right, so-called Suze! The little gnome-looking lady hopped up, ran to the door, to give so-called Suze a giant hug. The hypocrisy could be cut with a butter knife! So-called Suze sat down and ate with them. Only a monster would share tacos with someone they talked about with such venom moments ago. So I ask you, who else but an alien could be that two-faced? Surely no human could be.

My alien theory is shared by many like-minded folks. Sure, humans couldn’t act this bizarrely on their own; they have to have an alien influence. Possibly, they’re aliens themselves, who is to say? All I know is, human behavior is so screwed up right now, we better hope it’s aliens. If this is all just us, acting how we are, we are in for a monstrous future.