The world is melting and I’m aging at a constant rate. There’s a new scientific theory here, if only I could figure out what it means…
 

• For me? One of the great things about getting older is that, suddenly, every birthday party is a surprise party.
• So good, so good. I took a cruise a few weeks ago, and it was an adults-only voyage, which sounds a lot more risqué than it turned out to be. One highlight was all the cheesy stage shows with singers who would be equally at home if we were all in a retirement village. Whatever song they chose, I knew all the lyrics from the days when I was young enough to understand the words.
• You make what? I really owe Sleep Number Beds an apology. At first, I mocked their corporate identity as pathetically bland and totally lacking in imagination. But now that every company is coming up with comic-book names like Boomface and Shasaflix, their branding looks much smarter. Unlike Boomface and Shasaflix, nobody has to wonder what they sell over at the Sleep Number Bed store. 
• Butt exposure. Forget The Rock, Seal Team Six, and all those keyboard warriors who threaten the rest of us from mom’s basement. The toughest guys in today’s world are cigarette smokers, end of story. I’m out on the street in fifty layers of flannel and there they are, maybe in a light jacket or a long-sleeved shirt, braving the cold outside the restaurant or bar or office, taking a puff and enjoying the brisk air. No coat, no gloves, no hat, just them against the elements, and they keep going until the last puff. These are America’s true heroes, underappreciated by the ignorant and respected to the extreme by the bravest among the brave.
• Turn left!! As winter settles in, I hate my grandparents more and more. There they were in Poland, where it gets really cold, and they had the choice of where to put down stakes in the States. Did they opt for warmer weather and move to Florida, or Arizona, or one of our many Carolinas? Nope, they decided to plop down in Chicago, where the weather was just like Sokolow Podlaski and the heating bills were even higher. What were they thinking???
• Befriend me. I absolutely need more Facebook friends. I was an early adopter and sent out the usual friend requests to everyone I knew 15 years ago, but then the suggested contacts were more and more distant and it started to feel creepy to reach out to some woman I last saw in third grade. Fast forward, though, and my entire feed consists of clickbait for online gaming sites, cheesecake pictures of long-dead femmes fatales, and ads for walk-in tubs. Maybe I need to click on every friend Facebook suggests, whether I have any idea who they are or not. What could possibly go wrong?
• No, you didn’t. Everyone says hindsight is 20/20, but everyone is an idiot. Does anyone actually know what happened with the 2024 elections, with Covid, with Mrs. Carter’s snub at the CMAs? In the immortal words of Rudy Giuliani, we’ve got lots of theories, but we just don’t have the evidence. We’re supposed to use our perfect hindsight to avoid the mistakes of the past, but we can’t even agree on what happened. Another aphorism bites the dust.
• Eternal entropy. Every day, I read that the world is falling apart, but we never quite get there, as if we’re in some form of catastrophic stasis. We’re collapsing at some stable rate that is always lethal and never quite bad enough for us to give up on Wordle. It reminds me of the guy who falls out of a window and, as he passes the fifth floor, concludes, “so far, so good.”

Stay tuned, and click here to subscribe, because next week is our 2025 Year in Review, and you won’t want to miss all the crap you’ll wish you’d missed when next December rolls around.

The woman at the next table is gushing loudly and continuously to her friend about how brilliant her new niece is.

It turns out—and this is a big shock—babies are smart and they seem to be learning new things all the time. And, who would’ve guessed, her niece turns out to be really curious about the world around her. Who could have predicted that? Well, everyone.

You see it all the time, that sudden sense of discovery, when some random person enters a phase of life that has only been experienced by 7 billion people before. Whether it’s sex for teenagers or taxes for new jobholders, all of us are big-time explorers throughout our lives.

Perversely, even the greatest adventurers among us never actually discover anything. We just find something WE haven’t encountered before and, when we tell someone older about it, they work hard to stifle a yawn.

Been there. Done that. Welcome to the party.

Maybe it would spoil the fun, but part of me thinks we should have a giant set of spoiler alerts for people who need to know what’s around the next corner. They’d be flags more than spoilers, offering an early indicator of changes ahead. 

I think about this a lot as my grandkids get ready to experience new flume rides on their journeys from babyhood to child to teen and, if I live that long, adulthood. Should I tell them about the irritating kids they’ll meet as their social circles grow? Should I tell them about the increasingly powerful level of competition they’ll face as they get older and get thrown into bigger pools of talent? Should I try to explain puberty and hormones and their upcoming rebellion against their parents? Or, is it best to just leave it alone and let them know that it’s normal…after it happens?

Life is full of surprises, although I’m not sure we can call them surprises when most are 100% predictable. How much better might it be if we had a guidebook to let us know what’s coming up? Would it make life more manageable, make it easier to adapt, or would it take the joy out of discovery?

Without a doubt, we’d flag the negative things: the cliques they’ll encounter in high school, the friends who will walk away, the people who will be picked ahead of them. Mostly, we’d be alerting them to a million disappointments that will make them more capable as adults, but only after they’ve paid a very high price. Would they become more confident, or more fearful, as they learn which shoe will drop next?

Looking back, I wonder if I would have been able to handle some disappointments more productively if I had had some idea they were coming. Perhaps I would have thought of better responses and dealt more effectively with them, or maybe I would’ve been so overwhelmed by a looming disappointment that I would have overreacted before anything happened.

So, which is it? Do we tell our younger family members what to expect and how to deal with it or do we let them discover it on their own and, while dabbing their tears, say it was to be expected?

Looking for responses on this post, so please share your perspective. Is it better to warn them, or just let it unfold? And, while you're at it, click here to subscribe.

I need to get more excited about life, but definitely lose my enthusiasm for almonds and eyewear, because life offers up more curves than a calligrapher…
 

• Man, overbored. Sometimes I think people are really too emotional and too excited about minor things, but it’s always possible that I’m way wrong about that one. I was watching a cooking demonstration recently, and the woman next to me was gasping as the chef put salt on the food and taking notes when he said she should “season to taste.” When I thought something was particularly boring, she was sitting there with a smile on her face and saying, “WOW.” Clearly, she’s getting a lot more joy out of life than I am.
• Fakir fakers. So, when exactly do you give up on the con? I forget which museum it was, but there’s one in Istanbul that displays a large number of seriously questionable relics, including the staff Moses held up to part the Red Sea. I couldn’t help but wonder if the sultan who accepted these gifts Sultan who accepted these gifts knew they were fake, but given in good intentions, or if he believed the certificate of authenticity, but the fact they are still on display is concerning. At this point, when it’s clear to everyone in the world that this thing we believed 500 years ago cannot be true, shouldn’t we fess up and move on?
• Water we doing? Seriously, I should never buy almonds. It takes at least a gallon of water to make one almond and, if I have an almond croissant, more fresh water than an average person drinks in a day. The same thing with walnuts and pistachios, and don’t get me started on lettuce. There’s no way to justify using all that water, plus the cost of processing, shipping, and handling at my local store. And yet, I know people who will eat this stuff and not think twice about it, even if they also think of themselves environmentally responsible.
• Megiddo moves downtown. Millions of people think Armageddon will be the final battle of good versus evil, but it turns out they’re wrong. The ultimate battle will be pigeons versus cockroaches, pitting the world’s true survivors in mortal combat. Whoever wins, it won’t be pretty for those of us who think we’re at the top of the food chain today.
• Distaff rules. There’s a museum in Athens with an exhibition that asks, “What if women ruled the world” and the program description suggest lots of rainbows and unicorns. That cannot be correct, though, since it turns out that, gasp, women are people and people are fallible. Power corrupts, and anyone who thinks that rule exempts women is denying their humanity and is a terrible sexist.
• Delayed reparations. I spent some time in Poland recently, walking past buildings still pockmarked with bullet holes 85 years after World War II. Somehow, they’ve never gotten around to repairing the concrete, which made me feel much better about my to-do list.
• Problem solved! Throughout history, the problem with the Greater Fool Theory was that, eventually, we ran out of fools. Today, though, we seem to have solved that issue.
• Not up to specs. I finally gave in and bought prescription glasses to help me read, but it’s very disappointing. I used to think I looked okay for my age, but suddenly I look so much older and have really bad skin. There should be a law against selling such defective lenses.

If I ever come to terms with my new looks, subscribers will be the first to know. Click here to join the team.

I'm having second thoughts about what qualifies as news and I know Italy will be very disappointing, but let's share some punchlines first. If you don't know all the jokes, just buy me lunch or dinner, or maybe a Porsche, and I'll catch you up on them.

• You can call me Ray. I wrote a few weeks ago about going to a friend’s funeral and learning that everyone called him David, while I called him Dave. Later on, I realized that at least half of my long-time friends call me Mike, not Michael. I should probably object, but I’m grateful anyone talks to me at all.
• Suffering for their art. The people who own the movie theaters started putting in reclining seats with giant cushions to compete with the comfort levels we all experience while streaming at home, but the live theater owners haven’t caught on yet. Tiny seats, tiny cushions, zero leg room and,  even worse, no popcorn.
• A timely question. We always think we sound smart when we say a stopped clock is right twice a day. Problem is, we can never know when those two moments are going to come along. It’s like saying we should only buy lottery tickets on the day our number is coming up. Almost a tautology, but stupid, nonetheless.
• Batteries not included. Actually, that thing about stopped clocks makes even less sense than I thought  before, since most clocks are digital and they're never right when they're stopped. Glad I could clear that up for you. Next week, we debunk the idea that a penny saved is a penny earned.
• Smells like teen dispirit. I took a picture of my granddaughter making funny faces and posted it online and she thought it was absolutely great. A few years from now, she’ll be a teen and think it’s 200% mortifying. Humor is a constant, but audience tastes evolve.
• Duke! Get away from that man. Every so often, I think I should share some humor on this blog, but most of my favorite jokes involve long stories that lead to TL:DR replies. I’m solving the problem today, though, by just sharing the punchlines. IYKYK.
  • Now that’s how you wave a towel.
  • I’ll take the soup.
  • Ours is prettier.
  • So, tell me, Johnny, did you do it?
  • He had a hat!
  • Some people just don’t know how to tell a joke.
  • Yes, sir, but your wife has been here for two weeks.
  • You idiot! I sent you a truck and a canoe and a helicopter…
  • You’re really not in this for the hunting, are you?
  • (Seven punch lines too scatological to include in a family blog), and, of course…
  • The Aristocrats!!
• Old Standard. I stopped in at an ethnic restaurant the other day and concluded that the food was not really authentic because it didn’t taste like the first place I’d gone for that cuisine. After Olive Garden, I know Italy could only be a disappointment.
• Let it go. Not every comment or joke requires a defense. It’s okay to laugh when someone points out how your side goofed up without an “oh yeah?” or a whatabout.
  

Next up, we'll be comparing beggars and entrepreneurs, because the lines can blur quite a bit on the mean streets of Chicago. Subscribe now so you won't miss it.

I owe Al Capone a big apology, and I should stop mocking that woman at the slot machine, too, as I consider all my misguided actions this week...

Man, over Bourdain. It’s time to retire the Anthony Bourdain memes where he’s telling us how we should live more fully. There’s just something about life advice from a guy who took his own life that is more than misguided. It’s cruel, almost like the people posting his quotes are mocking him for not taking his own counsel.

Invest in hubris! The problem with humanity is that we are smart enough to know we’re smart, but we’re not smart enough to know how stupid we still are. Archimedes figured out pi roughly 2,000 years ago, without a calculator, and the people who built the observatory at Stonehenge started work 5,000 years ago without a backhoe. If anything, we’ve just gotten dumber over time, while our hubris has exploded.

Never saw it coming. Speaking of which, I spotted a dead turtle on the road during a recent bike ride and I realized it had began its day like pretty much every human. It woke up and started its daily activities with no idea that it would no longer be among the survivors that night. And homo sapiens are smarter, how?

Pushing the buttons. The woman at the slot machine next to me is explaining that I’m losing money because I’m pushing the buttons wrong. Then she demonstrates how she massages them and where she pushes on each button before taking her next dollar for a spin. I’d mock her for her superstitious delusions, but she’s winning too much to listen.

Big props to Al Capone. Chicago hosted a big NASCAR event over Independence Day and I read a report about how much the 2023 races added to the city’s fortunes. Surprisingly, the promoters claimed $24 million of “media value,” based on all the mentions and awareness of the city generated by news reports and such. I guess we should give more thanks to all the other people creating “media value,” including gangbangers, Al Capone, and Mrs. O’Leary’s cow.

Honey trap. Do waitresses get a special license to call everyone ‘honey’??? I’m not complaining about it, because I crave the kindness, but this one seems to be unique to this very special group. Nurses, plumbers, cab drivers, cops…nobody else in the world ever calls me ‘honey,’ but waitresses seem to think it’s my first name.

Just one more tweak. Every time someone comes up with a good idea, the next guy in line decides to ruin it. We need more STEM in schools—science, tech, engineering, and math—but then they made it STEAM by adding arts into the mix. And too much “arts” is the reason we needed more STEM in the first place.

Acts shunned. I’m a big fan of the First Amendment—in fact, I am using it right now!!—so I don’t think anyone should lose an employment opportunity because they spoke out against the treatment of civilians in Gaza. I do think, though, that people who demonstrate bad judgment make poor employees and that many, many protestors showed abysmal judgment over this spring. Whether it was the public intimidation of Jewish students, disrupting the education of others, illegal entry, or simply demonstrating a profound lack of common sense…I’m fine with consequences for that.
 
 

I wrote a few weeks ago about all the fun I had at a friend’s funeral and I said just about everything there is to say about the big sendoff. But wait, there’s more!

• A funeral home is like a cruise ship. We all gather for an event, think it’s very important and meaningful, and then we have to exit quickly because they need to get ready for the three o’clock departure.                 
• When you sign the guest book, they ask for an email address. Maybe it’s for the mourners and maybe I’m about to get a BOGO from Everlasting Acres.
• Everyone you see at a funeral looks familiar, which seems odd at first but ultimately makes sense. These are all the same old people I’ve been seeing at religious events and funerals since I wasn’t a member of their cohort.
• Whenever I’m listening to a eulogy, I start making a checklist of all the things I need to get done so they can add those items to mine. They’re always really cool things like swimming across the Atlantic or endowing a hospital and everyone will know it’s a lie, but I’ll be impervious to embarrassment by then.
• With so many newspapers and theater companies going out of business, there’s definitely a market for critics who want to try their hand at funerals. The scenes are both predictable and surprising, the scripts vary from tragedy to comedy, and there’s a reality-show vibe that can present itself at any moment. This is a no-fail concept, soon to be followed by reviews of weddings, Quinceaneras, and ritual circumcisions.
• I scheduled my funeral at the cemetery, so nobody has to deal with one of those long funeral processions that eats into your yoga time. You can all thank me now for my consideration, because it will be too late when you’re really appreciating the gesture.
• Zoom is a crime against humanity, and even more so when it comes to funerals. Mourners are in a fog and they won’t remember all the details, but they will remember the isolation of being alone in the room, and no list of remote participants makes up for that.
  
• Speaking of crimes against humanity, how long will it be before we have AI funerals with botscribed eulogies, welcomes from a VR guest of honor, and virtual processions to the cemetery? Yeah, it sounds pretty crazy and stupid, but that’s what they said about swallowing Tide Pods.
  
• And…how long do you wait before you take someone’s name off your contact list? I still have people on my contact list who haven’t been available for contact in several years. Every time I come across one of them, I think about deleting the entry, but it’s like killing them all over again. (I wrote that wrong. I didn’t really kill them the first time. Well, one or two, but not all of them.)
  

So, they always tell you to write what you know, and that explains why I end up writing more about funerals than world travel, mountain climbing or orgies. Gee, it’s so much fun getting old.

Next week, we’ll catch up with a bagpiper on Lake Michigan as we race toward my most depressing day of the year. Only subscribers will make the connection between the two, so click here to become a subscriber.