I don’t have many regrets in my 66-plus years of living. I do have a few, but nothing that has made my life seem incomplete or regretful. When I do contemplate all things regretful, I sometimes find myself considering career choices more than anything else. I’m not so regretful that I ended up in education, but I do think about those by-passed careers that I never assessed in my youth.
Lately I’ve been acutely aware of names that are given to various things… think place names, product names, paint color names, and in particular medicine/pharmaceutical names. Although one would think these names seem rather willy-nilly in their evolution, there truly is a process in how they come to be—depending on the particular subject-matter (see below).
In hindsight, I think there was real potential in my ability to provide names in some of the above areas—thus, my regret.
Walk into any store that sells paint. Check out all those options when it comes to basic white paint—there’s pearl, alabaster, lace, linen, porcelain, rice, snowball, and coconut to just name a few—not so basic, is it? Even if there is a difference when you line up the samples next to each other, no one is ever going to walk into your freshly painted home and say something like, “Oh, I love how you decided to go with the chiffon-white over the salt-white.
After that, have a drive around any decent sized town and notice all the various sub-division or street names that often have little to do with the developments’ locations, geography, or history. I have to wonder how many planned neighborhoods have generic, non-descriptive names like Pleasant Hills, Whispering Pines, Shady Oaks, or Prairie Highlands.
On any given day I will watch the sports highlight broadcast of CBS Sports HQ. This is a free, live-streaming program and perhaps not the best out there, but it typically scratches my sports itch. In between the actual sports coverage is the usual slathering of commercials, and as of late a high percentage of pharmaceutical commercials promoting drugs with names like Atomoxetine, Bimzelx, Cefixime, Horizant, Brukinsa, Pluvicto, Margetuximab, Skyrizi, and Wynzora.
Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like a lot of these manufacturers like to include “x’s” and “z’s” in their product names. Go ahead, try pronouncing them, or better yet, include them in your child’s next spelling bee.
This naming business for the most part is harmless and some readers here might say this is hardly worthy of discussion. Yet, beyond the benign naming of these drugs is a more solemn undercurrent as the pharmaceutical industry is becoming more and more prolific. Today’s pharmaceutical commercials are rather ubiquitous and for the most part, tolerated and/or accepted. Is it possible that the commercials pushing the numerous drugs with their invented names, branded logos, and color schemes have become substitutes for the cigarette commercials of another time?
On one hand, it’s a proven fact that humans live longer thanks to the ongoing research in the pharmaceutical industry. Yet, despite the light-heartedness of these commercials, there is this underlying possibility of adversity lurking just below the surface. The commercials promoting these products come across as they always have—take this pill and your troubles are gone. And in a distilled characterization of Americans, that’s what they are all about—correct this problem in my life while I carry on with as little adjustments as possible.
Even in these positive promotions, included are the obligatory disclaimers that confirm the risks of using these products—all of it spoken while the visual provided by the actors give us a sense of immunity from anything that could be harmful in the product. Nevertheless, we know these drugs can generate their own health issues. Consider this lengthy disclaimer for Bimzelx, a drug used to combat moderate-to-severe plaque psoriasis and psoriatic arthritis. When reading such disclaimers, one has to ask if we are simply trading in one ailment for another.
In conclusion, perhaps Michael Stanley said it best in his song “Chemistry” from the 1981 album North Coast
I’m just a product of World War Two So I never really knew any better Out in the suburbs where things were new All the dreams of our folks ran together But on the way to their destination They second mortgaged their expectations All of this in God’s favorite nation If you’re feeling down just take two
(Chorus) ‘Cause we got… Chemistry… don’t think about it Chemistry… can’t live without it Chemistry… better living through Chemistry… for you and me
We started early on make-believe It’s a part of the American dream And I know people who just won’t believe If it’s not on a TV screen We’re gonna see that you feel all right A little something get you through the night And we don’t care if your Black or White Don’t you worry ’cause the first one’s free
Let’s take advantage of the situation Let the man at the counter prescribe salvation Are there holes in your life that you’re trying to fill ’Cause if you got a problem, boy we got a pill
Somewhere it has been said that the deaths’ of the famous come in threes. That might be, so the passing of Dolly Parton (singer/songwriter, actress), Tim Curry (singer/actor), Jay Maisel (photographer), and Yayoi Kusama (artist) in the latter part of this month has given me some pause.
I know, that’s four famous lost lives.
Although I met Dolly Parton in an exciting moment backstage at the 1978 Ohio State Fair in the form of a brief “hello” and handshake, it is the passing of Tim Curry which moves me the most—in particular his role as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in TheRocky Horror Picture Show (RHPS).
The movie came out in 1975, and flopped. However, upon being released to home video outlets, it broke out just like Dr. Frank-N-Furter throwing off his cape in the early minutes of the movie. As it gained more popularity, movie houses all over the country started showing the film at midnight on the weekends. According to one source, “By the late 1970s, it became a symbol of sexual liberation and self-acceptance, resonating with audiences during that era.”
I was late to the party when it came to attending those midnight, weekend screenings of RHPS. My first viewing of the flick came in the late 70s or very early 80s—probably 1979 or 1980 when I was visiting my family in Ohio between semesters of my undergraduate studies at Arizona State University. The friends that I grew up with in Akron introduced me to the movie one Saturday night in nearby Kent—home of Kent State University.
Sure, it was a bit outrageous in my first viewing since my chums failed to truly explain the movie’s plot before attending, but it was one of those, “Oh Morgan, you’ve got to see this movie!” The reason why I say it was only “a bit outrageous” was that the film wasn’t a stretch from attending the two Queen concerts during my high school years featuring the band’s flamboyant front-man Freddie Mercury. Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in drag was simply an exaggerated version of Mercury. Curry once said, “It was part of the sexual revolution, really. Experiment was in the air and it was palpable. I gave them permission to be who they discovered they wanted to be. I’m proud of that.” I can’t say the film changed any of us, but we were certainly beguiled every time we attended.
To be clear, we were typical Midwestern, straight young men who all came from working, middle-class families—mom’s at home and dad’s at work as tire factory workers, surveyors, plumbers, or mail carriers. And every time I was back for a visit, we’d head to Kent for another midnight screening of the film followed up by a visit to whatever all-night diner we could find in Kent or somewhere along the way home.
For whatever it’s worth, although we saw the movie on countless occasions over some ten years, we were never the fans/groupies who dressed up as RHPS characters, but we were tickled that others were because that made attending all that more exciting, dare I say, “delicious?” However, I think there was one occasion when we brought some toast and rice with us. I’ve always said that Dr. Strangelove is my favorite movie of all time, but I’m confident that I’ve viewed RHPS more… even more than The Wizard of Oz.
I really can’t articulate why we went to this movie so often. If I had to answer the question today, I would chalk it up to the costume imagery of the movie and, for sure, the soundtrack. We were certainly aware of the undertones of homo/bi-sexuality, but whatever discussions we had on this topic, it wasn’t something we obsessed over. Perhaps we were simply a little too naive when it came to anything beyond matters of the heterosexual. For me the film’s music and imagery equaled Jesus Christ Superstar—another film and soundtrack of our youth. Whether it’s The Time Warp, or Sweet Transvestite, I assure you I know all the words to both songs. They are both on one of my Spotify playlists.
In recalling these memories, I have to wonder how this movie would be received today by the same demographic… in places like Akron, or better yet, Powell, Wyoming. One part of me thinks it would be viewed as anything but artistic in its music and costume design. In a time when Christian nationalism is mainstream-to-widespread, my hunch is it would be viewed as lewd and downright wicked. Though I don’t recall, I’m sure there were those back then who viewed it in the same light, but not our little band of straight, young men.
On the surface there would seem to be a great contrast between Dolly Parton and Tim Curry. Yet, beyond the stage, studios, and movie sets, I suspect they had much more in common. Have you ever heard some of Dolly Parton’s off color jokes? I’d even go as far and bet that Parton herself viewed The Rocky Horror Picture Show and loved it.
Don’t get strung out by the way I look. Don’t judge a book by its cover. I’m not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I’m one hell of a lover! —Dr. Frank-N-Furter
It’s not too unusual to name inanimate things after those who helped make them happen… think Carnegie Hall, Mercedes Benz Stadium, Guggenheim Museum, or the upcoming completion of the Bill and Melinda Gates Mega Data Center (ha, just kidding on that last one, but it’s not a reach). Of course, those examples are of the grandest scale, but it happens at all levels, including right here at our local college in podunk, Powell, Wyoming.
At Northwest College, there is certainly nothing unique in how they roll out their financial donors for display at any given place on campus. I’ve seen this at other institutions, but maybe not quite as pronounced as it is with this little junior college in Northwest Wyoming.
Most recently there is the new Student Center and it is littered with plaques/signs mentioning the generous giving regarding some of Powell’s finest… you know, the most affluent citizens and businesses. For example, there’s the “Majorie Fryer Wilder Fireplace,” the “Cummins Veteran’s Lounge,” and there’s even a “Jim Vogt Family Overlook” which is a bunch of chairs on the second floor of the Student Center overlooking the main mall. Keep in mind, this is just one building I’m talking about here. Further, there’s the “Big Horn Federal Gallery Wall,” the “Bill and Karen Hayes Study Room,” and of course the “Bonner Family Dining Plaza.” Hell, it just wouldn’t be a Northwest College building if it didn’t have the name Bonner splattered on some plaque, panel, or wall in a prominent location.
When I see these kind of displays, it makes me even less enthusiastic to give. It reminds me of those do-gooder lists that were posted in grade school that had gold stars next to student names for various accomplishments in the classroom. Kathy Murphy’s name would have a gazillion stars by her name and then on the same list there was Gary Wade’s name with only two stars—neither was gold, and only hand-drawn by the teacher with a Bic disposable pen. I remember wondering how Gary felt to see his name on that list compared to everyone else.
In pondering this, I’m reminded of those sponsorships that show up on professional team uniforms and the renaming of stadiums/arenas after banks and big corporations. The University of Wyoming is one of the few holdouts to this trend, clinging fast to their football stadium’s name of War Memorial Stadium. I wonder how much longer can they hold out before some big oil corporation throws enough money at the school to change the venue’s name. America and its money obsession… what a country!
It’s no secret that I’ve never been much of a donor to the NWC cause. I’d like to think that the compensation I received matched the effort I put in over those 33 years. I know there were some who gave more effort and others who coasted through during their entire tenure, but I feel that the college and I are square. Whatever money I’ve given back to the college, I’ve done it anonymously and in modest amounts. My favorite mode of giving has always been informal—an occasional large tip to the baristas at the coffee counter in the student center, including an extra $5 with my popcorn or candy at the concession stand for athletic events, and paying art students a little extra over their asking price when purchasing their works.
My objective here is not to embarrass or ridicule those who have made significant contributions that resulted in their names permanently bonded to a building for everyone to see. I suspect many of them don’t care if their name is on any given placard or not. My question is simple: What does seeing those names do for the average, low-to-middle income citizen (myself included here) who hasn’t given or can’t give due to financial shortcomings? Is it suppose to inspire us to do the same, or does it just make for a public acknowledgement of those who have and those who have not? In short, it smacks of elitism. Whatever happened to giving anonymously—when did that go out of style? Imagine coming upon a panel or wall with numerous listings of “anonymous” only—yet still including the different sizes of each based on the amount given. How refreshing would that be? Perhaps institutions like Northwest College believe that the posting of names is actually encouraging of other potential donors. Yet in my case, it’s a huge turnoff.
Given all the do-gooders listed just in the new student center, I have a modest request: How much money is required of me to have a small plaque installed with my name on it (including my years of service) above one of the many mens’ urinals on campus?
Just one, that’s all I ask.
So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. —Matthew 6:2–5
Postscript: While Northwest College is preparing to introduce a new convoluted (and likely expensive) marketing campaign that doesn’t include changing its name to “Yellowstone College,” Laramie County Community College, President Joe Schaffer announced plans to recommend changing the school’s name to Wyoming State College. The proposal goes to the Board of Trustees for a formal vote on September 16, 2026, with an official transition target date of July 1, 2027, if approved.
Why the Change is Proposed… • Better Recognition: Research showed the current county-specific name limits recruitment and causes confusion outside the immediate region. • Broader Reach: Leaders aim to attract more students across state lines and boost long-term enrollment. • Strategic Growth: The update removes geographic barriers while keeping the core mission, local commitment, and Golden Eagles mascot intact.
The McCullough Peaks on one of the more “clear” days in early August
What has happened to my favorite time of the year, summer?
In a word, “smoke.” That is, smoke from forest fires has ruined the season of summer.
I remember growing up in Ohio during the months of July and August, sometimes the sun would get very orange or red as it was setting. Often the overtly orange or red sunsets were attributed to “fires in the West” by various individuals who may have known or not about such atmospheric conditions. At times I wasn’t convinced because I knew high humidity had a hand in the warm-colored sunsets too. Whatever the case was, I certainly could never smell it.
I know there have been forest fires nearly every summer, but I don’t remember them being so “present” before… say, around 2010. By present I mean, you can smell it and you can’t see more than five miles.
Today as I looked around, the horizon offered nothing but smoggy endlessness. Nevermind that the Big Horn and Beartooth mountains—stalwart landmarks of this area—are hidden. Along with that, the much closer Heart Mountain, McCullough Peaks and Polecat Bench (home of the Powell airport) also vanished in the toxic haze.
Whatever I’m allergic to these days, causing my eyes to water profusely, I’m confident that the smoke is—at the least—exacerbating my condition.
At 66-years of age, my tolerance for heat isn’t what it used to be, but I’d never downgrade summer because of that. But with anywhere from a month to two months of debilitating smoke, the seasons of spring and autumn are looking better all the time.
Greenland is melting, the west is on fire, But don’t ever stop praying for rain. It’s a curious place between hope and desire Different gods, but the prayer is the same.
I’m a little late to the party here, but I’ve recently been listening to the podcast titled I’ve Had It hosted by Jennifer Welch and Angie “Pumps” Sullivan. Although they get into a lot of political shit, there is nothing too sacred that can’t be dressed down on their program. Recently they’ve slammed oblivious cell phone talkers/walkers, misbehaving children in public places, and manly-labeled products for insecure men who need validation of their masculinity.
I suspect the reason I love listening to these two Oklahoma-raised women is the title of their podcast could easily be the title of this blog because when I sit down to write something here, it’s pretty much me coming to that moment of, “I’ve had it with this or that.”
In the spirit of Welch and Sullivan, I thought I’d do a little of my own I’ve Had It in this post—hopefully as well as any 65-year-old White dude can pull it off.
Living in a small Wyoming town, it’s safe to say that most folk here are conservative—very conservative in my opinion… as in outright stupid conservative just for the sake of being a conservative. Without any doubt, White MAGA has a solid foothold in Powell, Wyoming and throughout Park County which includes the tourist-based town of Cody.
It’s common to hear various leaders and high-profile members of Powell talk about how friendly it is here. I suspect there’s some truth in it, but after living here for over 30 years, there’s a little more to this friendliness than just pure unadulterated congeniality.
My suspicion is rooted in one continuous experience I have in this town on any given day—it’s the dreaded four-way stop sign intersections.
As a regular cyclist around town (and occasional driver) there are numerous four-way stop intersections throughout this town. Given how “nice” people are in Powell, Wyoming, if you’re on a bicycle, they typically wave you on even if they arrive at the intersection well before you. And that’s the part that gets me.
As a bicycle commuter, I am observant of the rules of the road which apply to both cars and bicycles, including the proper protocol for a four-way stop sign. There’s nothing worse than being on my bike approaching a four-way that has a vehicle already stopped. Instead of proceeding through the intersection as I’m clearly slowing down in my approach, these Powell do-gooders will stay there and watch me come to a stop. And after I have stopped, they do that Powell thing and wave me on even though they were there way before I arrived. I call it “The Powell Standoff.”
So, consider it safe to say, I’ve had it with this Dudley-Do-Right shit. No doubt and in their defense, they would likely tell anyone that they are simply being kind to the cyclists, but I’m not buying it. If they had simply proceeded through the stop sign after coming to a complete halt, thus establishing the right-of-way, I would have only had to slow down as they proceeded through the intersection.
And here’s my theory… I don’t think they wave me through because they are being nice. I think their over-the-top Anita Bryantness is simply a ruse for being nosey so they can see who the crazy libtard is on a bicycle when it’s barely above freezing outside—because liberals are the only ones who really ride bikes around here beyond the summer months.
I can feel their indifferent stares as I proceed slowly through the intersection, only because I had to come to a complete stop waiting on them. If they had just followed the rule, both parties would have been through the intersection sans a “Powell Stand-Off.” If you’re a pedestrian, it’s almost worse because they have that much longer to stare at you as you cross any given intersection where you might be—it doesn’t even have to be a four way or a pedestrian crossing! Their facial expressions say they are doing you a big favor, but inside they just want to mow you down—reduced to a giant grease spot on the asphalt.
Lastly, I know there are other bike riders in this town that think it’s their right to blow through stop signs because they are on a bicycle. I suppose this could be another occasion for Powell drivers to hesitate at a four-way. However, these lawless cyclists give other riders like me a bad look. So my advice to drivers who encounter bike-riders who ignore the rules of the road is to simply run them over when they go flying through stop signs.
While doom scrolling the other day on Instagram, a guy popped up in my feed who I’d never seen before and proceeded to insist to the Instagram community that single spacing after periods was “fucking bullshit.”
This grabbed my attention immediately because what he was saying flew in the face of the most basic rule in typography I learned way back in the summer of 1977. It would also become one of the first things my graphic design students would learn in the first semester of their first year—it was that basic.
Like anyone, I can get pretty worked up when it comes to politics and other things that divide our country. But, there are a few other topics that will rub me the wrong way even if they lack the attention of the general public—bad typographic advice is certainly one of them.
Here’s the transcript of his post on two-spaces vs. one-space…
“When you type a sentence and you put a period… I’m being told that you can only have one space afterwards. And that’s fucking bullshit, and I’m tired of it because you put two spaces after a sentence. White space on a paper attracts your eye. Look at any Apple ad that you have and all you see is one image, right? It is two spaces. It’s designed for the eyeball and I’m tired (again he’s tired) of people saying only one space. So, if you see me in the courthouse, don’t fucking come and talk to me about one space—cause it’s two.”
And there you have it—no exceptions—just pure fact according to mild-mannered criminal defense lawyer Jeremy Rosenthal who apparently moonlights as a graphic designer or typographer given his extensive knowledge on spacing after sentences. In this age of Trump where “my loud opinion is as good as your facts,” his rant is spot on. Imagine, a lawyer spouting off about typography as if he’s some kind of expert or authority on the subject. Better yet is the pure, unadulterated stupidity as he doesn’t even cite any sources to back-up his moronic claim, just a blind decree, “…don’t fucking come and talk to me about one space… cause it’s two!”
Imagine how bankrupt Rosenthal’s working vocabulary must be when it comes to typography—using secretarial language like “linespacing” for leading, “three-dots” for em leaders, and likely doesn’t know the difference between a hyphen and an en-dash.
Is this what happens when one becomes a lawyer… you suddenly think you’re an expert on anything beyond the practice of law? For God’s sake, Jeremy, you’re out of order!
Someone should send his tirade on spacing after sentences to whatever law school he attended. My bet is they won’t be surprised. I can almost hear one of his profs saying something like, “Yeah, that’s old Jeremy alright… shoot first and ask questions later. That’s a true testament that he wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box.”
There are certain things we do (whether deliberate or unaware) that illustrate to the world that we are undoubtedly stupid—wearing a red MAGA hat surely comes to mind. But there are other discernible means of accomplishing this too—Rosenthal’s rant here is definitely one of them.
Further, is this how he operates in the courtroom too… just goes off spouting diarrhea all over the courtroom without presenting any evidence backing his claims?” All I could think about in watching his post was, “What a fucking idiot. I pity the parties he represents in court.”
Basic Typography 101 I never thought I’d find myself fighting this fight again. After 30-plus years of covering this basic typographic practice in the classroom every year, here I am one last time trying to silence another clueless moron who believes they are an authority on the subject. Fuck me.
So, one last time—as a professional and educator in graphic design, prepress, and print—I’m going to clear the air on this subject. I hope to never speak of this again.
I learned in a high school typing class my sophomore year (1975-1976) that two spaces followed all sentences. I never asked why that was and simply followed the rule. This class met everyday for one hour and we only worked on manual typewriters. During my junior and senior years, I was enrolled in a vocational graphic arts program, and as a result became curious about design, publishing, and typography. During the summer between those two years, I found my first job in the field working as a typesetter for a weekly newspaper (The Signal of Canal Fulton, Ohio) on a Compugraphic Jr phototypesetting system—the same system used in our high school graphics program. On day one at The Signal, I was instructed, “No double spacing after sentences.” Like that typing class, I never ask why this was.
Reporters in our newsroom would type up their stories/manuscripts on regular typewriters and upon editing, the manuscripts would be sent up to composition where I would rekey each story into our phototypesetting system. Of course this rekeying of any given manuscript opened me up to possible typographic errors, but it also allowed me to edit out the various typewriter practices that weren’t suitable for publishing—omitting two spaces after sentences was one of them.
It was only in college that started learning the basic dos and don’ts of typography, and more importantly, the rationale behind them.
When the typewriter came on the scene in the early 1900s, many different practices were introduced that addressed the device’s poverty of characters (think the limited number of key strikers that crash against the ink ribbon and transfer the mark onto the paper). Many of the characters that we take for granted on our PCs were impossible to produce on a typewriter such as choosing between roman, boldface, italic, and bold italic. There were no options for real quotes, apostrophes, or prime marks—just the straight, up and down prime marks (that were used interchangeably as quotation marks and apostrophes, often called “straight quotes”). Other characters unavailable on a typewriter were real fractions, dashes, diacritical indicators, etc. So, the practice of double spacing after sentences was simply another way of accommodating the limitations of the typewriter, such as—and here’s the important part—the generation of monospaced characters, where every character takes up the same amount of space (even a period or space takes up the same width as a capital/uppercase W or M).
Monospaced vs. Proportionally spaced
In an effort to break up the monotony of monospaced characters, double spacing following a sentence was introduced to improve the “readability” of the copy (look that definition up, there’s more to it than you think). These typewriter practices were very appropriate for the limited-characters the device could generate, but when the typewriter was phased out, sadly some of these practices were carried over to the PC—in particular desktop publishing. But the PC was never about emulating the typewriter even if it had the same keyboard layout. Contrary to that the PC offered all of the features that had always been available in traditional and modern typesetting systems, but at a cost that many could afford. When tools/equipment of any profession become democratized like this, there is always the chance that training and knowledge of the processes are ignored or simply overlooked. The same thing happened with plumbing when PVC was introduced. So, anyone could be a plumber as long as they had a hack saw and glue (so we thought). The same is true in owning a PC and having access to professional software (fonts included). Just because one has the tools doesn’t make one a publisher or graphic designer, although that is the route that many have taken. In the transition from typewriters to PCs, many people have assumed that the lessons they learned on a typewriter were just as valid on the PC. However, limiting typography to the practices originating from a typewriter is akin to limiting architecture to only using cinder blocks.
The storage area size of each character relates directly to its frequency of usage, including the 3-em space.
When it comes to word spacing (including after sentences) typesetting systems used for printing and publishing, going back to hand setting individual metal characters (see diagram above), have always used a 3-em space between words and after sentences because the typefaces available were elegant and smart in their designs, and more importantly were proportionally spaced (google that). Look closely at any publication worth its salt, you won’t see double spacing after sentences because it isn’t needed. Also worth noting is that double spacing between sentences can hobble some justification if it falls at the end of a line.
Most don’t know this, but the holy 3-em space is what you always get when you hit the spacebar on your PC. Type designers and foundries would surely protest violently if they knew typewriter practices were being used on their proportionally-spaced type designs. Most fonts on PCs are proportionally spaced fonts—Times Roman, Helvetica, Arial, Garamond, etc. But, there are a few monospaced fonts available on a PC as well. The font Courier is the most common. So, as I would tell my students, if you use Courier (or some other monospaced font), by all means double space after sentences. Otherwise, it’s single spacing for everything else—it always has been!
A Dimwitted Rebellion The only exceptions to these tried-and-true typography standards appear to come from various unrelated disciplines that have adopted conflicting standards such as double spacing after sentences no matter what kind of font is used—think English/grammar folk, or the law community as in the case of Attorney Rosenthal. Many of those who defend these “commandeered rules” will say things like, “It just looks better and is easier to read,” or “that’s how I was taught.” But I have yet to meet up with anyone who can cite any legitimate, and widely accepted research that defends their stance.
The irony in all of this is that we now have this incredible system of hardware and software in front of us that can be transformed into a powerful publishing tool. And despite all that, there are some of us who treat it as if it’s still a typewriter. These typographical luddites lack any sense of curiosity or imagination about how today’s PCs can do so much more while failing to circumvent those old practices that were derived from the shortcomings of their early-20th Century typewriters. This is akin to having a Formula One car and only using it to go to the market to get groceries.
I have no push-back for these roped-off cases of bad typography practices in specific professions. If they want to be isolationist in their dumbed-down typographical practices, I say, “live and let live.” But, what I do have a problem with is when some, let’s say, jackass lawyer, with no background in typography, publishing, or graphic design foolishly declares that double spacing after sentences is some kind of universal standard.
There’s a great deal of information that one can easily find on this subject if they’ve made it to this far and aren’t convinced or just want to know more. That’s admirable or just downright crazy—maybe both. Given that I’ve been so outspoken on this topic for years, perhaps there is an abbreviated way to say all this so that it fits on my tombstone. I’m open to suggestions.
As disturbing as everything to do with President Trump can be, there is a certain consolation when it comes to his utter incompetence, deceit, cruelty, and narcissism—to name only a few. I suspect that is how the late-night talk shows and other comedians must see it. There’s so much rich material when it comes to his stupidity and public speaking appearances, one doesn’t have to work very hard to make a joke of him, and often those jokes are the plain truth.
All of this certainly applies to his “illustrious” staff as well. I mean, really, just pick any one of them and there’s an entire new chapter of satire to be written.
Of those staff members, it’s hard to overlook Secretary of Defense… I mean War, Pete Hegseth (a.k.a., Warlord Hegseth). You could say he’s been my latest political muse since the United States attacked Iran. The excitement he has for the war and reporting on the war is akin to a high school girl that made the cheerleading squad. If I didn’t know better, this might be the most sexual thing that’s ever happened to him. Not that I would want to witness it, but I would bet his most profound erections in life have “emerged” with the commencement of this “war.” It’s possible that his wife is one of the most sexually frustrated married women in America right now. Consider it safe to say that Hegseth must have been deprived of playing “Army” as an adolescent.
OK, that’s about as low as I’ll go here, but there’s more to discuss.
The Trump administration has often reminded me of a quote I learned long ago that starts out like this: “He who knows not, and knows not he knows not, he is a fool. Shun him.” I mean, that is Pete Hegseth in a nutshell. When I think of Hegseth, I’m reminded of that great Disney classic, Fantasia. Hegseth is Mickey Mouse as the “Sorcerer’s Apprentice,”incompetent, foolish, and totally in over his head. Worst of all, Hegseth appears to have no clue regarding the consequences of his actions. He’s intoxicated by the power that has been given to him as he pours gasoline on the fires he and Trump have started. However, in this version, the sorcerer is nowhere to be found to arrest the developing disaster.
A former ROTC commander of Hegseth’s alma mater, Princeton, once said of Hegseth, “His nomination (as Secretary of Defense) is an embarrassment and a disgrace to all who have served, or will serve.” One doesn’t have to know about war, or national defense, or military tactics to know that Hegseth is in way over his head.
Recently, I heard him bragging about the sinking of an Iranian ship (IRIS Dena) in the Indian Ocean—nowhere near war-torn Iran. Hegseth quipped in a press conference about the sinking of various Iranian ships, “The Iranian Navy rests at the bottom of the Persian Gulf. Combat ineffective, decimated, destroyed, defeated. Pick your adjective.” In the case of the Dena, it was a destroyer-size ship that was in route back to Iran following the ceremonial 2026 Fleet Review in India. Along with that, the crew participated in other events including the Indian Ocean Naval Symposium—hardly events associated with preparing for battle. The Dena could have been sunk anywhere and at any time if it had posed any kind of real threat. This was just a case of low-hanging fruit for Hegseth and his goons in the “War” Department—very much akin to their comrades at ICE and the bullying, injuring, and killing of unarmed American citizens.
There’s been a formidable amount of conflicting information for why this war was started by the United States. In the days leading up to the war, Trump’s “special envoy” Steve Witkoff claimed that Iran was “probably a week away” from having nuclear bomb-making material. Then during his rambling State of the Union address, Trump said Iran would soon have the ability to strike the United States with an intercontinental ballistic missile. All of this, of course, contradicted his own claims eight months earlier that Iran’s nuclear capabilities were “obliterated.” Following military action, Secretary of State Marco Rubio claimed that Iran posed an imminent threat as a result of imminent attacks from Israel—making it sound as if Israel was dictating the conditions of military action for the United States. Finally Trump went on record to say that Iran was going to launch preemptive strikes against the US on its own. One can’t help but to be reminded of George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and Colin Powell’s false alarms regarding Iraq’s “weapons of mass destruction.” Does the United States really need to repeat that huge cluster-fuck… and so soon?
I have another theory about the rationale behind this war that is as good as the buffoon in charge: This war is sponsored by all the weapons manufacturers to “test” their products in a nearly risk-free environment—given that Iran is hardly a challenge when it comes to their military prowess. Again, another case of going after low-hanging fruit—a hallmark of this administration.
File this under the category of “You had one job to do.”
I’m not the biggest bagel fan in the world. Certainly not like those from New York City, but I do like a morning bagel anywhere from two to four times per week. Cinnamon raisin is my go-to bagel when it comes to breakfast—sometimes with just butter, other times with butter and jam, or peanut butter and apple butter on top. It all depends on my mood.
I typically purchase this particular bagel made by Franz Bakery—not because I’m necessarily loyal to them, but because they are widely carried in my shopping radius of travel.
However, this is hardly a perfect marriage. Throughout my relationship with Franz bagels, I will remove a bagel from the bag to discover it poorly cut in half—more so than ever as of late. Whoever or whatever is cutting their bagels in half, isn’t paying attention or needs to be recalibrated.
Time and again, I am holding a bagel half that is so thick, I can barely squeeze it into my toaster which has slots that accommodate the average bagel thickness. Which means the other half is basically the thickness of a Triscuit cracker. Worst yet, it’s not even a uniform cut. As a result each half requires a separate toaster setting due to the extreme differences in thickness. If I put them in the toaster at the same time, one half will come out under-toasted and the other will be over-toasted. This is no way to live.
So annoyed by this, I filled out a customer feedback form on their website (and then wrote this post for good measure).
This isn’t so much about the product’s taste or freshness, it’s likely about the stupid robot that slices the bagels. Lately, it seems like there are at least 2 bagels out of every package that are far from being slice in half. If you can’t cut the bagels is half properly, don’t cut them at all—I’m happy to do that. You’re not doing your customers any favors by cutting them in half if you do a piss-pour job in that procedure.
In short, Franz… Cut it right, or don’t cut it at all.
I half expect to get an apologetic email with coupons for free purchases of any Franz product which isn’t going to appease me. If they really want this customer to be happy, they can send me coupons for free purchases of their competitor’s bagels, or better yet, simply recalibrate/update the software of the tomaton that is slicing the bagels.
A Trumper Truck in Powell, Wyoming with a custom tailgate of Shitler and White Jesus.
I’ve never claimed to be a scholar of The Christian Bible, but I do know a few of its lessons. One of the things that has always stood out to me are the various passages regarding idolatry—which, to be clear, is a bad thing. So, just what is idolatry? Most definitions I’ve looked up are of the following:
An extreme admiration, love, or reverence for something or someone. Immoderate (as in: not sensible or not restrained), excessive attachment or devotion to something.
So with that definition in mind, what does the Bible say about idolatry? According to one source, there are at least 10 passages that address why idolatry is wrong or sinful. One of the references that stand out to me is from Galatians: 5:19–21…
Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.
You have to admit, idolatry is lumped in there with a pretty impressive list of vile attributes that should keep anyone from entering the kingdom of God should they stray into these “works of the flesh.” And for the record here, I think the Bible has it right in demonizing idolatry, even if I’d be down for some innocent, Harry-Potteresque sorcery if the opportunity came along.
Based on this definition, it’s safe to say idolatry is not a scarce resource when it comes to this “Christian” nation or ours—starting with the obsession (dare I say “idolatry”) of President-former President-and-again-President Donald J. Trump. Go ahead and try to convince me otherwise that his persona isn’t front and center when it comes to being a textbook illustration of idolatry. Are not those Christians who follow (and adore) Trump especially aware of these passages, or are they simply ignoring them for the sake of convenience?
There was a time not too long ago that the political campaign season was pretty short and limited. Short in that it went from early autumn to the first week in November when the elections were held. Limited in that it mostly consisted of campaign signs in yards, campaign buttons on clothes (i.e., “I like Ike.”), campaign bumper stickers, and spotty television commercials. While most still practice the above, today there is a growing contingency that is active year-round with displays for at least one candidate that go way beyond the traditional campaign season and mediums—think red MAGA hats being worn all the time, Trump flags flown year-round from homes and vehicles, and even businesses blatantly professing their allegiance to Trump, but never for any other Presidents in past years.
There is this pick-up truck driving around in my community with a custom paint job of Trump and Jesus on the tailgate. It’s quite impressive regardless of how one might feel about the subject-matter. I always wonder how Jesus feels being idolized next to Trump with the same emphasis. Perhaps the Holy Trinity will be updated to the Holy Quadrinity with the addition of Trump. That should keep Bible scholars going for years.
Whatever the case, it all smacks of idolatry from my perspective, and best of all, being the narcissist he is, Trump can’t get enough of it.
So, where does this idolatry for Trump come from? Is it the need to rub it in the face of those who didn’t vote for Trump? Is it a delayed response to having a Black President for eight years? Surely Trump himself has never demanded such overt loyalty from his supporters (although he certainly expects loyalty when it comes to those working under him). When Trump is finally gone (I hope to be around for that!), will this idolatry vanish, will it carry on over to another like him, or will it just be the norm for all candidates running for national offices whether Republican, Democrat, or other?
More than just Trump
Cleveland Browns fans. Photo courtesy of Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
Such idolatry goes far beyond Trump, and anything political as well. Look no further than the ridiculous behavior of sports fans (fans: an abbreviated word for “fanatics”). Might it be a fine, thin line between fandom and idolatry, or maybe they are the same?
Most puzzling to me is the intensity of fans when it comes to their favorite professional football teams. I find this energy peculiar in that the members of any given team are typically not from the city/state/region that is represented in the team name. For example: how many players on the roster of the Los Angeles Rams are actually from Southern California (i.e., played high school football in the region)? College teams are guilty of this as well, but not as outstanding as the professional ranks. I could almost understand the fans and their dedication to a college team. For example, look at the roster for the newly crowned national champions Ohio State football team… many are from Ohio (51 of 122, nearly 42%), while the remainder come from various locations in the country.
Fan or fanatic? It’s a fine line. A fan, according to the American Heritage College Dictionary, is “an ardent devotee, an enthusiast.” Fanatic is defined as “a person marked by an extreme unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.” The distinction, then, apparently rests on whether the enthusiasm is ardent or unreasoning. No matter how you dress it up, fandom looks like the twin brother of idolatry.
Social media narcissism…no matter what top they wear, no men seem to want them.
Lastly, there is the matter of self-idolatry (a.k.a., narcissism) which has infected our society to the extent that it isn’t questioned, rather accepted, to the point of encouraged. Go no further than the social media settings of Instagram or TicTok and look at the ridiculous numbers of “selfies.” Some accounts are nothing but selfies. My favorites are of the well-endowed women (yeah, yeah, I can just hear the responses to that given I’m pretty much an old geezer) who say they can’t find anyone to date or meet, yet they have over 20,000 followers. Is there a more illustrated example of self-idolatry than this?
I know my accusation here is beyond the look-at-me-self-idolatry because there is money to be made with a large number of followers on social media, but it’s still comes down to, “look-at-me”—making for a fine line between promoting oneself and idolizing oneself.
As for me, I’ve never been that much of an enthusiast for anyone or anything. I may have voted for Biden or Obama, but I’ll never be a fanatic/fan for any former or future Presidential candidate no matter how high they are rated by the experts or the dullards at Fox News. Oh sure, I have some favorite sports teams, but my world doesn’t revolve around them losing or winning. And, I certainly won’t be posting selfies in my speedos… imagine a 64-year-old geezer with an Instagram feed with nothing but selfies? Talk about giving people a reason to “unfollow.” Whatever became of humility and modesty?
