Tag Archives: writing

Here They Come

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Subtitle: I Told You So

Years ago, maybe one or two will remember, I wrote a post about driverless cars. The prediction has come true. I heard it on the news today.

There was a crowd that speculated 60 Teslas had accidents while on Autopilot. They suggest the loss of 60 lives because the computer does not drive as well as a human. Personally, I challenge the concept. Suspect it is likely half and half. Likely a little more one way than the other.

Whichever way, whatever happens, the die is being cast. Those legal eagles, ambulance chasers have smelled blood in the water, and soon the lawsuits will start flying.

Buckle up for a wild ride through the autonomous automotive frontier! While self-driving cars rev my imagination, I can’t help but ponder the ultimate showdown: Silicon Valley’s algorithmic prodigy versus the unpredictable human behind the wheel. Will our robotic chauffeurs outsmart the caffeine-fueled, text-messaging, road-rage-prone human drivers? The jury’s still out, and this technological tango promises to be more suspenseful than a high-stakes game of bumper cars.

Expert witnesses will parade in, each side wielding their technical wizards like legal weapons. The computer’s impeccable security will be interrogated, cross-examined, and dissected with surgical precision. Meanwhile, the lawyers will be grinning from ear to ear, their framed diplomas casting a victorious gleam on the courtroom walls, knowing they’re the only true beneficiaries of this digital drama.

The ambulance chasers will likely win their share, and the defense attorneys will likely win a few. Most will likely be settled out of court. Sometimes the defense will be afraid of losing and set a standard. Sometimes, the prosecutor will settle, afraid to set the standard the other way.

As all the paperwork from all the legal briefs finishes trickling down from above, the losers will be the drivers. The cost of the cars will skyrocket, and naturally, the cost of auto insurance will likely follow.

Sure, a settlement might line a few pockets, but who’s signing up to trade their body parts for a payout? Not this savvy survivor, that’s for sure. I’d rather keep my limbs intact and my bank account untouched.

So, at some point, the computer has to become better than the human. I ask you, do we take the steering wheel out of the hands of humans for the safety of others? On the other hand, do we permit humans to hold onto the wheel in spite of it being more dangerous?

Futurists, brace yourselves: the million-dollar question is lurking just around the corner, ready to pounce when we least expect it. And hey, while we’re at it, we might want to whip up some shiny new laws that are as clever as they are cutting-edge.

Considering laws are made by lawyers for lawyers, I don’t expect to see it in my lifetime.

Missed my Chance at a Million

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I’ve developed an innovative personal hygiene product called the Sneeze Pad, a groundbreaking solution designed to enhance public health and personal safety. The concept features an elegantly simple design that can be easily manufactured, with potential for aesthetic refinement and customization. This practical invention addresses the growing need for immediate sneeze containment and could revolutionize personal protective equipment.

A compact, ergonomic protective shield designed for personal hygiene during respiratory events. Measuring approximately 3 by 4 inches, this innovative device features adjustable wrist straps for secure forearm attachment. The surface is covered with a specialized, adhesive-backed material treated with advanced antimicrobial agents. When a user experiences a sneeze or cough, they can direct respiratory droplets onto the pad, where the chemically treated fabric immediately captures and neutralizes potential pathogens, preventing their spread and maintaining a hygienic environment.

In the aftermath of the global health crisis, my innovative solution remains unrecognized. Despite its potential to save countless lives, the moment has passed. While pharmaceutical companies, healthcare providers, and medical facilities capitalized on the pandemic’s urgency, my breakthrough idea sits unrealized. The opportunity for recognition and potential financial success has slipped away, leaving me with a sense of missed potential and unfulfilled promise.

On the other hand, the pharmaceutical companies are still making their fortunes off me. Since I took the vaccine, I’ve had at least three blood clots. So now I take this medication that makes my nose bleed. I do put up with the nose bleeds so I don’t have any more blood clots. Oh, and by the way, I pay almost a hundred dollars a month, this after Medicare and auxiliary insurance.

It appeared that nearly everyone prospered during the pandemic, except for those like myself who continued to struggle with lingering health complications. While some found opportunity and resilience, I couldn’t ignore the profound loss experienced by those who succumbed to the virus and the families left behind to grieve.

So Why Did I Settle in the Mid-South?

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Rarely do my readers contemplate this nuanced inquiry. The essence of the matter lies in the delicate interplay of timing, misguided decisions, and a subtle lack of understanding.

During my military deployment in Japan, tragedy struck when I learned of my brother’s sudden death. Typically, such news guarantees emergency leave, but I faced several unexpected challenges. A significant strike had shut down the gates at Kadena Air Force Base, creating logistical hurdles for arranging transportation. Resolute in my commitment to my family, I was adamant getting their own flight.

While the Marines covered my ticket to San Francisco, I had to pay my way from San Francisco, CA to Fort Smith. I was also responsible for all my family’s transportation costs, which significantly depleted our savings. Reflecting on the situation, remaining in Japan for the duration of my service would have been financially prudent. Completing my term there would have resulted in discharge at MCAS El Toro, near Disneyland, and presented numerous advantages. Had I followed this path, I would have saved considerable money, returned to familiar territory, been surrounded by family, and quickly secured an electronics job, leveraging my years of experience in the field.

Once in Fort Smith, I applied and received permission to get out about a month and a half early, rather than have them send me back to Japan or elsewhere. I went to Memphis, where I had been stationed for a few months of training. It wasn’t my home stomping grounds, but it was the next best thing. There, after a short time, I received my discharge.

At that time, in the mid-1970s, Memphis thrived under Republican leadership, boasting a vibrant urban landscape and a robust technological sector. Four prominent computer companies maintained substantial offices in the city, creating a dynamic professional environment. During my job search, a pivotal moment in pop culture history unfolded—the unexpected passing of Elvis Presley. I collected several newspapers documenting the momentous event, a potential treasure trove of memorabilia that, if preserved, might have yielded significant financial value today.

After joining the company, a disturbing incident occurred when someone threatened my son with a knife on the school bus. Concerned for our family’s safety, we quickly decided to purchase a home in Desoto County. However, we soon realized we should have chosen a location even further from the urban center. The neighborhood’s character seemed to be rapidly changing, mirroring the challenges of nearby Memphis. Our sense of security was further shaken when an intruder broke into our home while we were present, brandishing a .45 caliber weapon – a scenario unimaginable just decades earlier.

Relocating to the pollen capital of the United States proved to be a significant misstep, given my severe allergies. Prior to Dr. WW Taylor’s comprehensive patch test, I was unaware of the extent of my allergic reactions. During the twenty-minute examination, I rapidly failed the test, prompting the doctor to remark that he had never encountered such an extreme case of allergies in his extensive medical career. My ignorance of my own health condition led me to make this ill-advised move, which would ultimately have substantial consequences for my well-being.

Hours after the medical examination, a chilling realization struck me: had the Marine Corps known the full extent of my severe allergies, my entire life trajectory would have dramatically shifted. I would have been disqualified from service, sparing me from deployment to Vietnam. Instead, I might have remained in California, living a completely different existence. Such thoughts of alternate destinies can consume one’s mind, spinning elaborate scenarios of what might have been.

Aren’t you relieved that some mysteries remain unspoken?

What Makes me Laugh?

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Unexpected bursts of laughter punctuate my days, catching me off guard with their spontaneous delight. Initially reluctant to explore this writing prompt, I soon realized that these unscripted moments of joy are the most precious—emerging suddenly, transforming ordinary instances into memorable snapshots of pure, unadulterated happiness.

However, these are usually also the ones I can’t think of at the moment. It is good that God has given us humor to allow us to cope. One day near the end of Marine boot camp, I started laughing. The guy next to me cautioned me that I would suffer if I were caught, and he was right. However, I replied, “I have to laugh. If I don’t, I’ll cry.”

I guess God gave us both laughing and crying as coping mechanisms. For the time being, though, I’ll forego my comments on crying as the prompt was for laughing. Besides, we Marines never, never cry.

Children bring us laughter, right? And at the most unexpected times. I can remember the first time my 1-year-old son tasted a lemon; then fussed when we took it from him. Of course we immediately gave it back and he ate it. Never figured on that one.

Pets are divine comedians, sent to brighten our lives with unbridled joy. My loyal canine companion found pure bliss in pursuing oversized rubber spheres, a mere $2.99 investment that yielded endless entertainment. Despite his valiant efforts to conquer the unwieldy orb, his teeth never quite found purchase. Inevitably, after an exhausting pursuit, he would manage to pop the ball, while we dissolved into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Those three dollars were a masterful purchase, transforming an ordinary afternoon into a memory of pure, unadulterated happiness.

Cats possess an enchanting fascination with strings, their playful nature coming alive as they track the elusive movement. Watching their determination intensify when the string disappears beneath furniture is a delightful spectacle of feline curiosity. Their love for boxes transcends size – from sprawling cardboard containers to tiny packages – each becomes an irresistible playground. Even when logic suggests a box is too small, cats will ingeniously contort themselves to fit, defying physical constraints with remarkable flexibility. Perhaps most amusing is their laser pointer pursuit, where they leap and bound with wild abandon, scaling walls in an epic chase against an unattainable light, embodying pure, unbridled joy.

Yet, as I reflect on those moments, memories dance across my mind, bringing forth a warm, nostalgic smile.

The act of writing brought unexpected joy, punctuating my reflective moments with subtle grins. Each carefully crafted word seemed to unlock memories and emotions, transforming my initial hesitation into a meaningful exploration of thought and experience. thus, I can say, even the prompt brought a smile, if not an outburst of laughter.

The Purpose of the Internet

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Through countless hours of browsing, scrolling, and digital exploration, I’ve uncovered a profound insight into the essence of the Internet. This revelation wasn’t a deliberate quest or planned investigation, but rather an organic understanding that emerged gradually, almost imperceptibly, as patterns and behaviors crystallized before my eyes.

Periodically, I disconnect from the internet with remarkable ease. A mere two mouse clicks is all it takes to sever my digital connection. When I seek absolute certainty of disconnection, I simply unplug my mobile device—a swift, foolproof method that requires no waiting or additional steps.

I noticed a significant performance improvement after disconnecting the link from my computer. The system’s speed increased dramatically, running 4 to 6 times faster without the connection. Unsurprisingly, reconnecting the link instantly reduced the computer’s performance, making it clear that the link was causing substantial system slowdown.

Therefore, I figure the primary purpose is to slow my computer. You see, if it weren’t for the internet an all it’s associated requirements, I would not be able to keep up with my computer. Hence, we must keep the internet connected or we would never be able to keep up with our computers.

Can you imagine a computer actually doing things at lightning speed? Think about it. Could you keep up with it? Can you imagine your computer seemingly displaying results before you can finish entering the data? How in the world could you possibly keep up with it?

Hence, we must have the internet to keep the computer from getting away from us. Do we really want them coming up with answers before we complete the questions? Ergo, obviously, the most critical reason for the internet is to slow the computers.

When we connect to the internet, it’s intriguing to consider the complex background processes occurring within our computer’s system. Beyond the visible web pages and applications, numerous computational tasks are simultaneously executing, managing network connections, running system updates, processing security protocols, and handling background data synchronization.

While it might be essential to slow our machines, sometimes I feel the internet is doing its job a tad too well. Sometimes, I get this urge to stay unconnected, remain antivirusless, and simply let the machine do its job without the throttling.

3 Questions About my New I-phone

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I recently purchased an iPhone 14 from T-Mobile and quickly discovered several intriguing features that piqued my curiosity. Initially, I noticed a small tab near the volume buttons and wondered about its purpose. A couple days ago, a voicemail from my sister arrived, which caught my attention because the phone had remained silent during the incoming call. These unexpected details prompted me to explore the device’s functionality more closely.

Frustration mounted as I navigated through the labyrinthine settings, certain I had accidentally silenced my phone’s ringer. Despite my systematic search, the elusive mute option remained hidden. Determined, I dialed my number three consecutive times, each call connecting flawlessly, yet not a single sound emerged from the device.

Now I had three questions: the little tab, how I muted the ringer and how in the world I was going to get the thing turned back on before throwing the thing through the nearest wall.

My determination was put to the test as I meticulously searched for nearly ninety minutes before reluctantly reaching out to the local T-Mobile store. To my amusement, my call not only solved my problem but also brought unexpected joy to the customer service representative. Her laughter, palpable even through the phone, suggested a shared moment of understanding, as she revealed she had experienced a similar situation herself.

She clarified everything with her response. The indicator tab functioned as a switch, and when displaying red, it signaled that the ringer was deactivated—exactly as I had observed on my device.

I’m thoroughly impressed with this phone. Despite a few minor quirks I’m still navigating, it significantly outperforms my previous device. The innovative concept behind the switch is particularly compelling, and I commend the design team’s creative approach. My only reservation is the level of secrecy surrounding it.

Simple Question, Complex Answer

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Memories eluded me at first, a blank canvas of experience. Yet, as I delved deeper into the recesses of my mind, a handful of extraordinary moments emerged, standing against the backdrop of my past.

Nonetheless, they all had one big failure. While I was never diagnosed as dyslexic, I definitely have many of the symptoms. By the fifth grade, certainly by the sixth grade, I should have been tested. I went all the way through high school, and apparently not one teacher suspected anything.

Before I go further, I should probably say that the influence does go both ways. My seventh-grade world history teacher did so much to discourage me that I virtually threw my hands up in frustration and gave up. It did have a bleed-over effect into other subjects, but, well, I did get my high school diploma. This post would have to be too long to explain it all. However, he essentially made it impossible for me to succeed. Try or not, I failed. So, why try?

During my eighth-grade year, my US history teacher stood out as an exceptional educator who possessed a remarkable ability to engage students and inspire learning. Her teaching style was so compelling that I developed a solid understanding of US history, with a particular depth of knowledge about the Constitution. Despite her instructional prowess, she, like the others, did not recognize the underlying signs of my lifelong struggle with dyslexia.

Dyslexia often manifests through slow reading speeds. Despite my best efforts, I can only manage around 150 words per minute, which is significantly below average. Auditory learning is my strength; I can effortlessly retain information from hour-long lectures with remarkable clarity. In contrast, reading the same material proves challenging, with comprehension and retention markedly reduced. This learning difference created significant obstacles, particularly in my seventh-grade history class, where the teacher predominantly relied on reading assignments rather than engaging lectures.

Actually, I deviated from my original destination. The meandering nature of my journey speaks volumes about my perspective on the experience.

Daily writing prompt
Who was your most influential teacher? Why?
View all responses

No Small Error

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As I watched the speech, I figured that the dems were making a mistake by sitting on their hands during Pres. Trump’s speech. As I look back over it and the national reaction, it would appear that I underestimated the damage that has resulted to their party. It would appear that they might have been better off just closing their eyes and pretend to sleep through it all.

It would seem that they have painted themselves into a corner. Perhaps the more accurate saying would be how they sat on the wrong part of the limb as they sawed it off. Regardless, the nation saw what they did and apparently they didn’t much care for it.

Of course voters do have short memories, mostly. By mid-terms, it might be all forgotten, especially if they turn the corner and start doing things right. On the other hand, they might not take this opportunity to learn their lesson, they just might make things worse for themselves. Even more, if the economy starts turning around, if we start saving expenditures by the billions, the dems might find themselves in a deep hole trying to dig their way out.

The error seems to be that before the first word of the speech, someone made a decision. The orders went out and all the dems were ordered to stay in lockstep or else. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to cheer from time to time, they were afraid to. The thing is, by giving the order, they put forward a display of not caring about a boy with cancer, 2 women raped and killed by criminals and a determination to prolong the Ukrainian meat grinder. I don’t think the public liked that. I also think, if they were released from the order, most of them would not have taken the hard line.

On the side, we now know the Democrats don’t think for themselves. They are simply robots for the leadership, whatever it is that they chose, even when it is not for the good of the country. …And many of the things they decide are not for our good, none of us.

Presenting that front to the people is likely one of the biggest errors the dems have made, ever.

Do You Have 20 Minutes?

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The reason I ask that is it is how long it took me to buy a stamp.

I no longer do much business with the USPS. I have little reason to. Well, I was somewhat compelled to use their services. It was either get the stamp and let Medicare pay the bill or not get the stamp and pay a thousand-dollar bill myself.

I will not keep you in suspense. I did get the stamp and I did mail the letter, eventually.

In the past, purchasing stamps was a swift and straightforward process: you could enter a post office, approach a vending machine, and quickly obtain your stamps, typically within a minute or two, even with mobility challenges.

I anticipated this outcome, but the lack of vending machines surprised me. A single, multipurpose machine handling everything from letters to packages stood before me, with a line of five people waiting to use it.

The crowded service counter buzzed with tension, four employees working amid a serpentine queue of six impatient customers. I stood at the threshold, recognizing instantly that any choice I made would lead to an unsatisfactory outcome.

As I waited in line for the machine, I couldn’t help but notice the adjacent queue seemed to inch forward slightly quicker. Torn between impatience and commitment, I weighed my options: abandon my current spot after investing ten minutes or maintain my position with stubborn determination.

I stood there, staring at the complex contraption before me, its cryptic instructions mocking my attempts to understand its operation. In that moment, I realized my odds of successfully navigating this machine were slimmer than my chances of becoming the next lunar explorer.

I gazed at the postal queue, contemplating whether personally delivering the document would be more efficient. The line had dwindled to three customers, with an equal number of postal workers behind the counter. At least the self-service machine stood mercifully unoccupied.

The line dwindled until only I remained, with two clerks still stationed behind the counter. A growing unease settled over me as the possibility of leaving unstamped became increasingly likely, my anxiety mounting with each passing moment.

I stood at the counter, patience wearing thin as the line crawled forward. Two employees worked behind the register, but the crowd seemed to move at a glacial pace. A glimmer of hope sparked when one customer departed, only to be extinguished as a staff member simultaneously vanished from view. Sensing my mounting frustration, a nearby worker offered a placating smile and assured me someone would assist me momentarily. I couldn’t help but sardonically wonder about the legal implications of such a vague promise, knowing full well that her casual reassurance carried no binding weight.

Then, as I said before, I did get my stamp and it was mailed. Next time, I will bring my tent and camping equipment. I suggest you do the same.

Horses as Pets

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I enjoy writing on a diverse range of topics. Since I haven’t encountered a prompt about horses before, I decided to explore the subject independently.

In the early 20th century, horses were the primary mode of transportation for most people, while only the affluent could afford automobiles. This was a stark contrast to the modern era, where cars have become ubiquitous and accessible to a wider range of the population.

Keeping horses has become a luxury that only the affluent can afford. For the majority of us, driving cars has become the more practical and accessible mode of transportation. However, some individuals may still need to rely on walking to get around.

In the future, if the environmental movement continues to gain momentum, the majority of people may have to rely on walking or using non-motorized forms of transportation, such as horses. Only the wealthiest individuals will likely have access to motorized vehicles.

I have never owned any horses, nor have I ridden any. The closest I’ve come was riding a motorcycle, though that is not very close to the experience of riding a horse.

Over the years, I have developed a strong interest in owning a small herd of horses, perhaps around six. This desire is not driven by any intention to race them or use them for practical purposes, but rather a personal fascination and appreciation for these majestic animals. The idea of caring for and interacting with horses on a regular basis holds a certain appeal, as I believe it could provide a sense of tranquility and connection with nature. While the responsibility of owning and maintaining a small stable of horses would be significant, the potential rewards in terms of personal fulfillment and enjoyment make it an enticing prospect that I have considered pursuing.

I would care for them regularly to ensure their well-being and provide them with a sense of purpose. Although they would be considered pets, I would shower them with affection and attention, treating them as beloved companions.

I adore horses and watching them gallop fills me with joy. I’ve had the pleasure of petting them before, and it seems they enjoy the interaction as much as I do.

While the idea of owning horses may seem appealing, the practical realities of providing for their needs on a limited income can present significant challenges. Maintaining a horse requires substantial financial resources to cover expenses such as food, shelter, veterinary care, and other necessities. Given the constraints of living on Social Security, it may be prudent to explore more feasible hobbies or activities that align with your current financial situation and lifestyle.

Maybe when I get to heaven, God will let me have a few horses. I think that would be nice.