Friday Donuts

Friends, There’s something unsettling about artificial intelligence. As writers, programmers and graphic artists lean on this new crutch, it’s tempting to see the tool as a self-aware peer. Such articulate paragraphs, seamless code and creative drawings must surely come from one such as us. Right? And yet, as we peek beneath the human veneer masking generative AI, there’s an uncanny valley that separates it from us. Does remixing and mashing-up large bodies of human knowledge whilst concealing your sources add up to originality? Perhaps. After all, isn’t that how human creativity works? We apply knowledge from one domain to another, borrow an experience here, a learning there and boom… eureka! Yet, something feels off. I grab my last donut of the year and ponder whether machines will soon pass the Turing Test. Then I continue working on my año viejo effigy (you should have no problem guessing the theme). I think 2023 will go down as the year the line between man and machine got a littl

Friends, Christmas is near and I fear the year is all but spent. Where the time went, well… it fell down the well where memories dwell. Looking back it may feel like a raw deal, but we deal. We build-up the drive to drive into work. Leave the house fast so we fast — for breakfast was passed over. Moreover, when that’s the case, grab a case of donuts to share when we get there. For the rest of the year, get some rest now, you hear… so you come back refreshed to give it your best. Happy Friday and Merry Christmas!

Friends, The difference between a pleasant experience and a bad one comes down to your disposition. A great $10 meal might fall short at $30. That awesome concert… not so much with a pounding migraine. That fancy restaurant is less enjoyable when you’re eating alone. Your fourth morning donut is never as good as the first, despite the fact both are nearly identical. Which brings me to 43B. Arguably the worst seat on the Boeing 757-300 — unless, of course, you’re traveling standby. Sitting in a middle seat, backed into the restroom on the last row isn't so bad when the alternative is the uncertainty of waiting for the next flight. And, against all odds, the seat actually reclines. Winning! In the end, we may not always control what happens to us but we do control our reaction. Have you had a stereotypically unpleasant experience you found yourself enjoying recently? I'd love to hear it, And if not, well, that's good too, right? Happy Friday!

Friends, My childhood corn field meanderings were inevitably followed by the dreaded process of removing small black splinters from my socks and pants. The culprit: a small weed in the undergrowth known in these parts as shirán. Its slender seeds were equipped with two sharp prongs whose diabolical design included a myriad barbs that latched onto fabric like Velcro. Minutes that felt like hours were spent tediously plucking these little devil seeds off one by one. Now shirán wasn’t all bad. The small white flowers were pretty enough, but the immature seed stalks were the best part. If you gathered them at the right development stage, they made perfect darts. Their tips stuck to clothing on contact, and unlike their older selves, held together very well, so they didn’t make a mess and you could reuse them many times. Countless unaware adults walked away with these darts clinging to their coats or sweaters, to the delight of mischievous youths. Who would have thought seeing this plant ag

Friends, There's something awkward about wakes and funerals. The strange combination of sadness and ritual, combined with the gathering of an eclectic mix of people make appropriate behavior a challenge. Family, friends and complete strangers you probably should recognize come together to pay their respects. The air is filled with a blend of silence, uncomfortable whispers and the occasional inappropriate laugh -- after all, the best gossip and jokes are overheard at the wake. While we'll all miss the deceased, it's hard to gauge the pain the closest relatives are in, so appropriateness is a moving target. Contributing to the unease is the fact none of those attending has actually ever been dead -- that would be weird. It's odd that one of the few common experiences we will all eventually share, is so inscrutable. For now the inevitable conclusion to our own lives feels like a distant shadow, something you know to be true but struggle to accept. So you make small talk a

Friends, I’m grateful for life, family and friends (yes, that includes you). I also appreciate the little things that make me smirk. Things like: Subconsciously associating Sam Bankman-Fried (jailed crypto boss being sentenced) with Sam Altman (ousted AI boss being reinstated) Thinking of Sinn Féin (left wing party of the IRA) every time they mention Shawn Fain (left wing union leader at UAW) Silly sounding phrases such as “the inpatient grew impatient awaiting attention” or “I just ate so I can gestate my next big idea” Speaking of eating, I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner, surrounded by loved ones. I also hope it’s not too soon to suggest you have a donut to top it off, after all, they say we have a separate stomach for sweets. Happy Friday! P.S. Another little thing that makes me smile: Verizon is still using MCI matchstick fiber markers 17 years after the acquisition.

Friends, I like to ponder the big questions. Like, if Red Robin has bottomless fries, why not topless fries? Or, when someone says something is f*ing good , can they really like KFC's finger-licking good food so much as to abbreviate their tagline? And, if America runs on Dunkin', does France run on disdain for Dunkin'? Lately I've been wondering whether I think sunsets are beautiful only because of their rarity. At sunset, the light and colors shine differently than the rest of the day. But what if the sky looked like a sunset all day long. Would it become mundane? Would we think more highly of a featureless cloudy sky? Perhaps. Some questions may never be answered. All I know is that it's time for a donut run -- perhaps to Dunkin'... Happy Friday!

Friends, If wealth passes for happiness, sex for love and good looks for good health, why is it so disappointing to see those vying for the presidency try to pass-off charisma as character, style as substance and personal attacks as preparedness for office? After all, nations get the leaders they deserve and there’s a reason politicians have always been an easy target for disdain. Still, every four years I find the selection process among those contending to lead the world’s largest economy underwhelming. Surely, better qualified individuals exist. Some combination of the stigma placed on politicians and the flawed nomination process appears to weed-out the good humans from contention, leaving deformed narcissistic caricatures pandering to our base instincts in hopes of getting elected. Perhaps the collective low expectations placed on politicians are a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. Whatever the reason, we’re headed for another disappointing primary season with zero great choices —

Friends, Iguazú falls is an amazing place. Splitting Argentina from Brazil and spanning nearly two miles, it’s hard to put all that awe-inspiring magnitude into words. I suppose that’s why the braille sign at the “Crag Overlook” caught my eye. Something about it felt like a cruel joke. How do you do justice to the view? Then again, if I was blind and willing to brave the stairs and slippery boardwalks of the four mile loop trail to hear and feel the power of the big water, I might also want to learn something new about the place while I’m at it. Maybe don’t call it an overlook —more like “overhear.” Happy Friday!

Friends, Wanna feel rich? Come to Argentina! The discrepancy between the official (i.e., wishful thinking) peso at 350 ARS to the dollar, and gray market (i.e., real) exchange rate of 1,000 ARS per dollar, means cash is king — after all, who wants to pay nearly triple for the convenience of using their foreign credit card? While the largest note is 2,000 pesos, they are as rare as two dollar bills. The workhorse of the economy is the 1,000 peso bill (worth about a buck), so you’re gonna want to walk around with one or more 100K ARS wads in your pocket — unless, as established, getting gypped on the exchange rate is your thing. As a side note, the smallest circulating note is 10 pesos, or as I like to call it the one penny bill. So you walk around the Paris of the Americas spending tens of thousands, all the while you feel like you’re getting a screaming deal on everything — probably because you are. Tonight as I head back to the states I will bring home a grateful heart, a ton of great

Friends, The narrow sliver of life we are able to perceive is filled with boundless possibilities. Our experiences are shaped by our choices and limited by our creativity. And so it is that when one door closes another gate opens — granted, you might not see it unless you’re willing to look around and keep an open mind. Consider a hypothetical traveler. He’s booked standby on a long awaited Argentina vacation. There are six open seats and he’s 20th on the list (his wife is #21). He could accept getting stranded in Houston or take a chance and switch to the São Paulo flight where more seats and fewer standby passengers mean they’ll probably get on. Sure, there’s the minor detail of getting from Brazil to Buenos Aires, but there’s bound to be a cheap regional flight. Right? And he might get a premium plus seat in the process, arriving rested from the overnight journey. Whilst in SP, he might find enough time to grab a donut and send this note while he’s waiting for the final leg of his

Friends, On this Friday the 13th, let’s talk about scary characters. Who intimidates you? Usual suspects include our elders, bosses, rich, smart, famous, beautiful and charismatic people. It’s natural to get a little tense around folks we don’t consider our peers — at least it is for me. It took me a while to internalize the fact we’re all in the same boat. Not everyone is nice or even good, but at a fundamental level we’re all similar. We eat, drink, sleep, age, get sick and die. We’d like to be heard, respected, appreciated and loved. We have hopes and aspirations, wants and needs. Senior citizens are just people who happen to be born before us -- until we become them. Job interviewers are just people hoping you’re a good fit for the job -- I've sat on both sides of that table. The terminally ill are just people closer to death. And on it goes. I’ve never tried imagining my audience naked, but I could see myself sharing a donut with them. As for Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger and

Friends, The habit of securing food and shelter for as many tomorrows as possible can make us forget to enjoy our todays before they become yesterdays. We should’t let stress set the pace for life, always unsure of whether we’ve done enough. Constantly looking over our shoulder, or over the next hill, instead of the fleeting moments laid in front of us. It’s important to slow down. Rush less and roam more (this last line came to me watching the buffalo   roam   near Mt.   Rush more last weekend). Having said all that, I’m going to have to hustle to the donut shop if I’m gonna have one before the day gets too hectic. As they say, do as I say not as I do.  Happy Friday!

Friends, Many folks have common shared memories of things that never happened –and, yes, I mean you. Whether you think Hamilton was a US president, the monopoly guy wears a monocle or Dorothy said “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto”, you’re wrong! Explanations for this phenomenon, known as the Mandela effect, range from the logical (the way the brain processes and stores information) to the fantastical (a hole in the fabric of reality made by CERN’s particle accelerator). Speaking of which, I hope now that the writers’ guild is no longer on strike, they stop using the multiverse as plot hole caulk to solve all historic storyline inconsistencies. Yeah, I’m not holding my breath on that. In any event, all this talk of false memories has opened-up my appetite. I think I’ll have to grab a Crispy Cream Donut (or is it a Krisly Kreme Doughnut?) Happy Friday!

Friends, The Great American Beer Fest kicked off last night to great bagpipe fanfare. As a member of the Safety Team, I enjoy my front row seat to all the beautiful mayhem created by a mob of ten thousand inebriated souls. The cumulative effect of a few dozen 1 oz. pours shows in many ways. The silent disco fills to capacity with a wildly gyrating crowd. Taster glasses dropped ever more frequently, followed by the telltale “ooooooh” chorus that fills the great hall after each mishap. Personal space gets smaller, voices get louder and suddenly everyone is your friend. Walking the floor, I make a mental note of which beers I must sample on Saturday (that’s when I go from volunteer to participant). I won’t bore you with a list. Suffice it to say I’m intrigued by 903 Brewers’ Blueberry Donut Slushy . The fact they describe the beer’s style as “berliner weisse“ makes me smirk, wondering whether JFK’s “ich bin ein Berliner” speech was ever interpreted as “I am a donut” by the crowd. Sadly, i

Friends, Few things are more frustrating than going to the doctor and hearing that the ailment you want them to fix is actually a new "feature" you need to embrace. It’s like going to the mechanic for a new noise your car started making and being told to buy earplugs. Aches and pains are a normal part of aging, but different symptoms arrive at different intervals for each of us. Genetics and lifestyle play a role, but, is there an ailment list that says all people will get X ache by Y age? A baseline, if you will… or are physicians just winging it? Seems to me it’s the latter. “Let’s see… Where does it hurt? — I see… you’re how old now? — I see… yup, that’s normal for your age”. On the bright side, it’s Friday and donuts are here (at my house, that is… you’ll have to fend for yourself!) Happy Friday!

Friends, My younger self tended to interpret things literally. News of my sister “breaking” her head conjured visions of exposed brain matter (the actual wound was a rather small cut). While this propensity has been tempered with time, my first pass at processing information is often literal. In a world of similes and metaphors, this creates plenty of opportunities for inner chuckles when the intended meaning becomes apparent. Over time, a few marketing terms have fallen into the humorous gap created by the cognitive dissonance between the figurative and literal. Smile inducing marketing jargon includes churn rate (how fast milk is turned into butter), conversions (a measure of your religious proselytism’s effectiveness), and brand equity (giving animals who produce similar farm products comparably equal third degree burn scars regardless of gender, species, breed or other status). Which brings me to abandoned carts . Here are a couple I ran across this week. This cart got flooded with

Friends, It’s Wednesday evening and I’ve spotted the super blue moon. Distant objects in my frame of vision make the satellite hovering over the eastern horizon look super big in comparison. The only thing blue about it is the sky it lights up — and the fact it’s the second full moon of the month. My thoughts drift to the tide (the lunar influence on the ocean, not the laundry detergent), then onto the small crater that was Luna 25 (the failed Russian lander, not the boy band). Somewhere in that vicinity, near the South Pole, a little Indian rover will be zapping lunar soil samples for a couple of weeks — then die. I squint and realize I’m imagining it in the wrong spot. How foolish! Maps have conditioned us to think south is down, when it’s actually on the right hand side of the moonrise (or left of the moonset). A lunatic smile covers my face as I consider having a moon pie in lieu of my customary Friday donut. Nah. I’ll stick with the classics. Happy Friday!

Friends, Expectations and reality don't always see eye-to-eye. On Tuesday CNN wrote that job seekers want record-high wages. High expectations. On the same day, the Wall Street Journal reported companies are cutting pay for new hires. Reality check. One hopes the two will be aligned, but in the long run reality will prevail, no matter what your expectations might be. I might expect the weather to cooperate with my afternoon run but Saint Peter may have other plans. That's not to say one shouldn't have a positive attitude -- self-fulfilling prophecies are a thing -- but it's wise to hope for the best but plan for the worst. This morning I bid you adieu in hopes that my donut won't disappoint... chomp... and whaddaya know, it didn't! Happy Friday!

Friends, Working from home has deprived me of my commute news ritual. To compensate, I've developed the bad habit of reading the news in bed. In so doing, I've noticed CNN seems to be getting sloppy with their news feed. Specifically, the words "body copy" are popping-up at the end of several articles. My first instinct is to chalk-it-up as an artifact of the template they use to produce their newsletter. Somebody is forgetting to delete the placeholder text, and nobody is catching the fact that it's still there. Then again, there's a chance it might be something else altogether. After all, "body copy" would be a fairly accurate way to refer to a clone. If one of the articles in question referenced the de-extinction efforts around mammoths and Tasmanian tigers, it's quite possible they were describing the clones they would use to re-populate these species. I specifically recall a Serena Williams gender reveal story -- in this case, I suppose her

Friends, Fear is a healthy response to immediate danger. It can keep you alive by steering you away from berated lions and treacherous cliffs. Unfortunately, fear can also distort your perception. It can make an unlikely outcome seem probable, even imminent. It can demoralize, destabilize and even paralyze. That’s why fear is such an effective control mechanism. When an evil act or tragic event is reported to us it’s important to put it in perspective. Yes, it’s sad, and yes, there are bad people out there — but the good far outnumber the bad. When fear of distant events and unlikely outcomes taps you on the shoulder, take a deep breath, bite into a donut and realize it’s still as sweet as it was last week. P.S. Rest in peace, Fernando Villavicencio. May many fearless leaders rise in Ecuador to fill the void you leave behind.

Friends, Postponing the inevitable is never a futile exercise. Circumstances change and what may seem unavoidable today may well be avoided tomorrow. From our limited vantage point it's impossible to predict how all the complex variables will play out. So if there's a seemingly lost cause you believe in, keep it afloat. Push it forward. Let it live to see another day. Heck, get Saint Jude Thadeus involved if you need to. After all, life is a journey, not a destination. Don't fret future loss. Most importantly, don't give up! The more you focus on the end, the less you get to enjoy all the wonderful things that can happen along the way -- if only you let them. Enjoy that donut today. Tomorrow will bring a new one, and who knows, it may be even better. One can only hope. Hang in there, red flower! Happy Friday!

Friends, I was listening to an early 2000s live Scorpions rendition of “rock you like a hurricane” where it sounded like Klaus was just going through the motions – despite (or perhaps because of) the large orchestra backing the band. I’d like to imagine the subpar performance was the consequence of a wild evening the night before. Then again, over the years there probably are times when making the same old song come alive must feel like a burden. I suppose we’re all inclined to just phone it in (zoom it in?) from time to time. Unfortunately, you never know which version of your work folks are going to judge you by – at least that’s what I tell myself whenever I’m tempted to put in a half-hearted effort. At times like these I might try switching-up tasks, going for a walk or grabbing a donut. Do you have a trick that works particularly well for you? I’d love to hear it. They're making it harder to just phone it in. Happy Friday!

Friends, It's tempting to feel adrift in the enormity of space and time. Our orb, a speck of dust in the universe. Our lives, a blink of an eye in history. At times like this I remind myself the only space I occupy is here and the only time I control is now. I may be small and fleeting, but I'm here, now... and I'm gonna make the best of it. Feel the crisp breeze on my skin. Breathe the petricor-laden fresh air down to the bottom of my lungs. Hear the river churning and the birds singing. Close my eyes and smile. Open them and take-in the dew-drenched green mountains around me. Greet loved ones with a hug, share my feelings and don't be afraid to horse around. Be grateful for the little things. The big questions feel remote. Are we alone in the universe? Perhaps. Why are we here? I can't be certain, but the order I see in the universe, from subatomic to super-galactic, points to an Orderer. Does life go on? I hope so. Are the donuts fresh? Take a bite and find out.

  Friends, Look around and you’ll notice busy people. Planning. Plotting. Scheming. Daydreaming. Travel to a remote corner of the globe and chances are you’ll see someone doing something. Building. Tilling. Writing. Fighting. All that energy. All that urgency. All that futile effort. To what end? Everything we own is borrowed – or perhaps leased. Every step. Every sound. Every snooze. Every possession you will eventually lose. Our stint on this planet is limited, yet we spend so little time enjoying our existence. Seeing. Feeling. Breathing. Hearing our hearts beating. Seems to me the term human being is a misnomer if I ever heard one. More like humans doing. Wasting our fleeting time above ground making new scars on the face of the earth we will eventually be buried in. Wow! That went south quickly. Too dark for a Friday morning, when the only thing dark on your mind should be a hot cup of coffee. On the bright side, you and I are both here now. So, take a minute to grab a donut, clos

  Friends, In the late sixties, Alka-Seltzer famously spent millions on memorable yet ineffective ads. The catchy jingle and fun commercials did little to grow the antiacid’s bottom line. Which begs the question, what makes a message effective? Your goals may vary, but ultimately, it’s a function of reaching the right folks with relevant information that increases the odds they´ll do something you want. It doesn’t have to be pretty, it just has to work. Which brings me to a tow truck company in the small town of O ña, Ecuador . They painted the word “tow” followed by their phone number every few feet down a 40 mile stretch of highway. By my estimates, it must have cost them roughly $1,650*. If a car breaks down on that stretch of highway, guess whom they´re calling. I´d be willing to bet several cars break down that winding, pothole ridden, mountainous road with poor data coverage every day. Pretty? No. Effective? You betcha! Of course, ideally you want to get style points whilst r

Friends, The world wide web is weaved of wires working their way from homes and businesses to places far and wide. Using glass fiber instead of silk strands, this web is not intended to catch insects -- unless, of course, they are streamed in 4K. In the U.S., this infrastructure is by-and-large concealed --often in plain sight -- to spare our aesthetic sensibilities. Elsewhere, it's more likely to resemble something a spider spun-up. I'm often fascinated by the way these webs are woven. Gravity-defying workers precariously perched on ladders leaning on the cables themselves. Safety, schmafety! If climbing on wires is not your kind of extreme sport, maybe skateboarding in Granby is more up your alley. Of course, when you go you must check-out the first place mural of a very realistic  3D donut . (thanks to David Bromberg for the tip).  Happy Friday!

Friends, Guinea pig (or  cuy  as we call it in Ecuador) is a delicacy enjoyed across the northern Andes.  Asking how cuy tastes is akin to asking how chicken tastes. It depends. A well prepared rotisserie cuy has a crunchy skin, meat that falls off the bone and slight hints of savory gaminess mixed with garlic. Like chicken, it’s best enjoyed without silverware. If you can get past the form factor, it’s delicious. Tradition suggests you should wash it down with some  canelazo  — sweetened hot cinnamon water steeped in naranjilla (solanum quitoense) and mixed with cachaça — so the cuy won’t “kick” (i.e., cause next day discomfort). I highly recommend trying it at Tres Estrellas restaurant in Cuenca --you'll have to reserve a table and tell them how many you're having -- a good rule of thumb is half a cuy per person. If you’re too squeamish, I understand. Perhaps a donut is more your thing. Happy Friday!

Friends, There's a new gold rush afoot. The Denver Nuggets and Golden Knights, two teams whose names elicit the precious metal, won their respective leagues' pennant this week. I suppose this bodes well for other similarly named teams -- although, the 49ers shouldn't count their chickens before they hatch because I think the Broncos are gonna win it all. Either way, both the Nuggets and the Knights (pronounced "KUH-nuggets", in classic Monty Python tradition) won their first title in an impressive five games. Seems like a perfect advertising opportunity for Golden Nuggets cereal (the UK version of Cap'n Crunch), if only Nestle hadn't discontinued it in 2021. I guess that's why they say hindsight is 2020 -- not 2021! If I were in Colorado, I'd celebrate with some  Whisky and Doughnuts  tomorrow night (sounds intriguing). If you make it out there, let me know your thoughts. Happy Friday! Swoosh!

Friends, Forty years. A lifetime. A blink of an eye. A last minute plan for a long overdue meeting with a friend I hadn’t seen in four decades. The best of friends. The best of meetings. Any reservations or misgivings about chemistry or camaraderie, needless and unfounded. Memories shared. Memories made. We laughed so hard it hurt, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I added a few new smile lines. Funny how great friends seem to pick up where they left off without missing a beat. Why we waited so long to reconnect beats me. Life has a way of getting in the way, I suppose. The urgent got in the way of the important and someday never came. Until it did. So glad it did! I smile as I bite into a donut and look back. Life is good.  Happy Friday!

Friends, How do you measure life? I’m not talking about monetary value, although I suppose that’s one potential way to do it — fortunately the Ford actuarial team saved us the math by setting the cost of a human life at $200,000 when deciding not to spend $11 on a safer gas tank for the Pinto. I realize any measure we ascribe would be arbitrary, subjective and debatable. Still, the exercise might yield some guideposts for living.  So, how would you go about measuring life? Do you measure it in duration? The time we spend above ground feels like a reasonable metric. It also seems insufficient. After all, it’s not enough to just have a pulse. You could measure it in distance (places you’ve been), experience (things you’ve seen and done) and impact (lives you’ve improved). Spirituality, goodness, accomplishment… descendants? With so many possible variables, an index is a reasonable approach. Then there’s the question of scale. How do you measure the love you give or the health you have? A

Friends, Feeding your newborn granddaughter for the first time is like going for a run after having a beer. You clearly weren’t expecting to do it precisely at that time and quickly realize you may have overestimated your skills. It goes a lot slower than you anticipate. You have to burp several times throughout the process and are never quite sure whether another one is coming. When you’re done, you’re glad you decided to go through with it despite early misgivings. It’s kind of like running after having a few donuts, but with a mild buzz. Happy Friday!

Friends, Truly original ideas (good or evil) can be powerful. Once articulated, they take on a life of their own. The best (and worst) of them  carry a sense of inevitability,  can  impact millions of lives and  change the world, for better or worse. Like humidity suspended in a cloud, once these ideas condense, they must be unleashed and soak the earth. Fortunately, the vast majority of ideas don’t reek of destiny. They are mediocre,  unoriginal and largely  unremarkable . Most if not all of the 6,000 thoughts each of us has on any given day are harmless. Like my idea of going out to grab a donut before the day gets too busy. I guess I’ll be on my way before another thought supersedes it and… wait, what was I thinking?  Never mind.  Happy Friday!

Friends, Picture Irina, a Balinese ballerina having a ball at Ball Arena. If you’d seen the same scene at the Pepsi Center, she’d have epilepsy, and less pep as she enters… see? I may be the last person in Colorado to realize the famous venue’s name change — two years too late. Of the two Ball Arena teams, it seems the Nuggets still have hope for a title as they put the Suns underfoot and left their imprint at Footprint Center, to enter round two. A celebration seems in order, and I’m on it. I’ll order a donut. Happy Friday!

Friends, It’s been a couple of months since Denver’s comedy radio station switched formats to country. I imagine their execs saw similarities beyond the two styles sharing first and last letters. Odd stories to make sad people smile were replaced with sad stories to make odd people smile. Robin Williams with Tim Robbins. Josh Blue with Clint Black. I must admit the advertiser lineup feels eerily unchanged. Perhaps that was the point. I suppose both audiences need drugs, HVAC services and one harmonica-playing financial advisor. In a way it also feels unnatural. Kind of like going from donuts to bagels because they look similar. Still, I’ve kept the preset button on my dial despite the corny deep voiced station identification guy — and the fact the new format has never been my thing. Call it my way of embracing change. With a little bit of chicken fry and cold beer on a Friday night, a pair of jeans that fits just right… Happy Cinco de Friday!

Friends, While folks seem unwilling to let anything get in the way of their weight loss goals, would-be weight losers don’t avail themselves of every available option. Take amputation. Losing an arm gets rid of over 5% of your body weight — a leg is nearly 20%! I suppose effectiveness is not the only consideration. There’s cost (surgery is expensive.) There’s safety (Fen-Phen anyone?) There’s inconvenience (exercise and food deprivation are such a hassle.) I suppose that’s why folks are turning to the antidepressant-turned-weight-l oss-sensation Ozempic. And, as an added bonus, it comes with free entertainment, in the form of vivid dreams with weird celebrity interactions. Of course, if you want to lose weight on the cheap, just contract a digestive tract infection. Aside from the frequent bathroom trips, it’s highly effective. Worked for me! Although, on the down side I may have to deprive myself of my usual donut this week. Happy Friday! One of the sights you will see if you​ follow

Friends, I have a new favorite euphemism: "rapid unscheduled disassembly," and I'm dying to try it outside of the SpaceX Starship light show. But where to use it? Bear with me while I try it out... It's not even been three years since the port of Beirut's rapid unscheduled disassembly, so it may be too soon to use it in that context. Well, how about the Death Star? It inflicted a rapid unscheduled disassembly on Alderaan before being subjected to a rapid unscheduled disassembly of its own. Doesn't quite roll off the tongue does it? Maybe if we made it an acronym? RUD? I have an idea! In the long tradition of hand-picking words to fit acronyms, how about we add a word, so it's a "Rapid Unscheduled Disassembly Explosion" (RUDE). I realize the last word defeats the reason the three preceding words were used in the first place, but by putting it in an acronym, you can still avoid saying it. Or you could just say the rocket exploded. But where's t

Friends, I was boarding a plane when it hit me: I had the golden seat! Not literally made out of gold, mind you, but it was 24K. How big was this plane? I don't have enough fingers on my hands to reach K, so I doubted the regional route had somehow ended up with a plane that has 11+ seats per row. As it turns-out my pure gold seat was actually on a plain vanilla 6 seat wide Boeing 737. For some reason, the airline had used the first five letters of the alphabet to label the first five seats in each row but decided to skip F, G, H, I and J and go straight to K. Why the gap? Was it whim? It turns out, according to THE Google, K is the highest letter you would use on the widest planes with 10 seats across (the letter I is skipped because it looks too much like a number 1), so for some airlines the starboard seat is always K. Yes I googled "port vs starboard" so I could use a big word, and yes, I stopped at the Dunkin' in the airport to have a donut. Happy Friday!

Friends, Denver can now look forward to a May oral runoff, leading up to the June mayoral runoff. One can only hope the two candidates pause long enough to swallow some of their own runoff. Speaking of which, do swallow’s nests remind you of monstrously deformed Malayan tapir heads? Swallowing swallows through misshapen prehensile snouts. Then again, maybe it’s just me and my misguided imagination. Either way, have a donut, and do not be too quick to judge my word play. I found it quite punny. Happy Good Friday!

Friends, As the first quarter of 2023 draws to a close, I’m reminded time flies. The ever growing past is ever present. The farmhouse demolished years ago still smells like floor wax, cigarettes and scrambled eggs. That missed opportunity still feels like it might yet be seized. Your dear departed friend, whose contact is still on your phone, awaits your call. If only. But what if memories were not the only way to go back? What if you could  actually go back? If eternity is a dimension above time-space, it opens the possibility of accessing our lifespan like a book. If you could retrace your steps and relive your life, would you change anything? Of course, if you did it would destroy your current self, after all, you are the product of your personal history. Maybe you can’t change it, only revisit it. If that’s the case, I propose you create a life you’d want to relive. Smile more. Be curious and kind. Treat yourself to a donut now and again. Happy Friday!

Friends, I’d crossed that ordinary pedestrian bridge dozens of times. Big Dry Creek flowing picturesquely under the flat concrete slab. Pretty, yet somehow unremarkable. Then, one day, I notice it. In an instant, the mundane pothole transformed into a puzzling mystery. The crumbling cement revealed a bone. Now, I’m no bone expert, but I am an expert speculator. In no time flat, a narrative had emerged in my head. The telltale bone had freed itself to seek justice. Surely this was no mere cow bone. Any self-respecting engineer would eschew a building material so likely to create a structural weakness. No, it must have been hidden there under the cover of night, in hopes of never being discovered. Could it be human? Could it be… murder? Was the rest of the body laying there waiting to be unearthed? How had this poor soul come to such a foul end? The bridge must be several decades old. Had the family found closure? Surely I’ve let my imagination go too far. Again. Or have I? Best grab a d

Friends, Saint Patrick was not Irish, yet St. Patrick’s day is the quintessential Irish holiday. There probably were no snakes in Ireland, yet he drove them into the sea. Potatoes are native to the Americas, yet the Irish diaspora forever associated them with famine. As we prepare to celebrate with shamrocks, green beer, leprechauns, beef and cabbage, I ponder how many of these things are truly Irish. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I bite into my lucky green donut and enjoy that pinch-proof feeling conferred by my green boxer briefs, which cover ~12% of my body—roughly corresponding to my Irish DNA makeup. Happy St. Patty’s day, y’all!

Friends, How restful is your sleep? I’d say mine’s pretty decent. Out for the count by ten, up by dawn; I try to put in a good eight hours every night. I do wake up intermittently, so it’s hard to be certain—a health tracker might remove uncertainty, but where’s the fun in that? Whenever my mind is racing and Morpheus eludes me, my thoughts wander to my old childhood haunts where I know I’ll find my Zs swinging from a familiar tree or waiting around an adobe corner. It may take a minute, or an hour, but it’s comforting to know my next heartbeat might bring sleep in its wake—and with it, perhaps a sweet dream where donuts feature prominently. Happy Friday!

Friends, Regardless of whether Kevin Hart and Will Smith can pull-off a  Planes, Trains and Automobiles  remake, this week’s news got me thinking of the classic 1987 comedy. Planes . Five recent runway close calls, with planes pulling up at the last minute to avoid a collision, will be the focus of the confirmation hearings for the new FAA administrator. Trains . Two trains to be precise. One toxic, the other Greek. The latter is tragic and the former reeks! Automobiles . This week, Tesla’s chief executive regained his title of richest man in the world, then lost it again two days later. Bummer, dude! As for donuts, there are no newsworthy events to report. I guess no news is good news. Happy Friday!