Author: The Timedok

Who Are You? (The Sarcastic, No-BS Edition)

Let me tell you who I am. I’m the person who spent years in the corporate trenches, leading teams of programmers and professionals, trying to convince them that being themselves wasn’t just some cheesy motivational poster bullshit. You know the one: “Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.” Yeah, that. Except I actually meant it. I told my people to embrace who they were—quirks, flaws, and all—because pretending to be someone else is exhausting. And frankly, most people suck at it anyway.

But here’s the kicker: in today’s world, being yourself is practically a revolutionary act. Why? Because half the country is too busy being spoon-fed propaganda by the fake news machine to even remember who they are. They’re like zombies, but instead of brains, they’re after the next trending hashtag. And don’t even get me started on the other half—they’re too busy arguing with the first half to notice they’re just as lost. It’s a circus, and everyone’s the clown.

In my upcoming book, Stupid Shit (yes, that’s the title, and no, I’m not changing it), I dive into the absurdity of it all. I’ll teach you how to spot the tricks, the traps, and the outright stupidity that keeps people from living authentically. Spoiler alert: it’s everywhere. But hey, at least it’s entertaining.

Why Be Who You Are (Even When Everyone Else Thinks You’re an Idiot)?

Let’s get real for a second. Being yourself is hard. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows and inspirational Instagram quotes. Sometimes, it’s more like standing in the middle of a storm, holding a lightning rod, while everyone around you screams, “Why can’t you just be normal?” But here’s the thing: being yourself is the only way to live a life that doesn’t make you want to punch a wall every morning.

Let me break it down for you:

1. Living Authentically Brings Fulfillment (And Fewer Headaches)

Pretending to be someone you’re not is like wearing a pair of shoes that are two sizes too small. Sure, you might look good for a minute, but eventually, your feet are going to bleed. Living authentically means you stop giving a shit about what other people think and start doing what actually makes you happy. And no, I’m not talking about the kind of “happy” that comes from binge-watching Netflix while eating an entire pizza. I mean the deep, soul-level kind of happy. The kind that makes you wake up and think, “Yeah, I’m killing it.”

2. External Validation Is a Scam (Stop Chasing It)

Here’s a fun fact: no matter how hard you try, you’re never going to make everyone like you. Why? Because people are fickle, judgmental, and often just plain wrong. Chasing their approval is like trying to win a game of Monopoly with no money and no properties—it’s not going to happen, and you’ll just end up flipping the board in frustration. Carl Jung said it best: “The world will ask who you are, and if you don’t know, the world will tell you.” And trust me, the world’s version of you is probably boring as hell.

3. Fake People Attract Fake Friends (And Who Needs That?)

When you’re not being yourself, you attract people who like the fake version of you. And guess what? Those relationships are about as deep as a kiddie pool. When you’re authentic, you attract people who actually like you—flaws, quirks, and all. Sure, it might take longer to find your tribe, but when you do, it’s worth it. Plus, you won’t have to pretend to like pumpkin spice lattes just to fit in. (Unless you actually like them, in which case, carry on.)

4. Your Weirdness Is Your Superpower (Embrace It)

Newsflash: the things that make you different are the things that make you awesome. Trying to fit into someone else’s mold is like trying to shove a square peg into a round hole—it’s awkward, painful, and completely unnecessary. So, you’re a little weird? Good. The world needs more weird. Normal is overrated, and frankly, it’s boring as hell.

5. Rejection Is Inevitable (So You Might as Well Be Yourself)

Here’s the harsh truth: not everyone is going to like you. Some people will think you’re too loud, too quiet, too weird, too whatever. And you know what? That’s fine. Because the people who reject you for being yourself are doing you a favor, they’re clearing the way for the people who actually matter—the ones who will love you for exactly who you are. So, let them go. Bye, Felicia.

At the end of the day, being yourself isn’t just about living authentically—it’s about living without regrets. It’s about looking back on your life and thinking, “Yeah, I did it my way,” instead of, “Why the hell did I spend so much time trying to impress people I don’t even like?” So, stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. Stop trying to fit in. And for the love of all that is holy, stop pretending to like kale. Just be you. The world might not always appreciate it, but trust me, your sanity will.

Don’t forget to subscribe and follow so you can stay updated on my latest posts and be the first to know when and where you can grab your own copy of Stupid Shit. Despite a misleading title, the product’s humor will keep you laughing while also provoking thought.

-Best

Navigating the Challenges of Writing in the AI Era

I had lunch with a dear friend recently—a lovely person who discovered that writing is, in fact, a business. Yes, a business. Like selling hot dogs or running a laundromat, except with more existential dread and fewer health inspections. Over sandwiches, we discussed the latest in literary absurdity: AI-driven software that can crank out an entire book faster than you can say, “What the actual fuck?” Apparently (and I can’t confirm this, but it sounds stupid enough to be true), Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) now limits authors to uploading no more than three books a day. Three. A. Day. Because, you know, that’s a totally normal output for a human being and not at all a sign that Skynet is moonlighting as a romance novelist.

Let’s talk about writing a book the way most authors do—or at least the way we used to before AI started pooping out novels like a malfunctioning vending machine. Writing a book used to be a deeply personal, soul-crushing process that required creativity, discipline, and the kind of stubbornness usually reserved for toddlers refusing to eat broccoli. Here’s how it went down in the pre-AI era:

1. Generating Ideas

Back in the day, authors had to rely on their own brains to come up with ideas. No ChatGPT, no Bard, no “AI Muse 3000.” Just raw, unfiltered human creativity. Inspiration came from life experiences, dreams, or that one weird conversation you overheard at Starbucks where someone said, “I don’t care if it’s illegal, I’m marrying the ferret.” Writers carried notebooks everywhere, jotting down ideas like lunatics scribbling manifestos.

For example, when I wrote a book about sailing, I didn’t just Google “how to sail” and call it a day. No, I lived it. I chartered a sailboat, had the crew walk me through the process, and spent the day pretending I was Captain Jack Sparrow (minus the eyeliner and rum). That night, when I lay down in my hotel bed, the room was still swaying. That’s the kind of detail you can’t fake. That’s world-building, baby.

2. Outlining the Story

Once you had an idea, you had to outline it. This was where the real masochism began. You’d map out the plot, develop characters with backstories more complicated than your family drama, and, if you were writing sci-fi or fantasy, create entire worlds with their own rules, languages, and economies. It was like playing God, except no one worshipped you, and you didn’t get a day off.

Some writers “pantsed” their way through the story (a.k.a. winging it like a drunk pilot), while others meticulously planned every chapter. I personally use a beat sheet from Save the Cat, because apparently, I enjoy turning my creative process into a spreadsheet. Nothing says “art” like Excel.

3. Writing the First Draft

Ah, the first draft. The part where you sit down, stare at a blank page, and think, “Why the hell did I decide to do this?” Writing was slow, painful, and required the kind of discipline usually associated with monks or Navy SEALs. You’d aim for a specific word count each day, and if you hit it, you’d reward yourself with chocolate or alcohol—or both.

Writer’s block was a constant companion. Without AI to suggest ideas, you had to push through it on your own. Some people went for walks. Others screamed into the void. I personally found inspiration in coffee, wine, and the occasional existential crisis.

4. Revising and Editing

Once the first draft was done, the real torture began: revising. You’d read your manuscript over and over, catching typos, fixing plot holes, and wondering why your protagonist sounded like a cardboard cutout. Beta readers would give you feedback like, “I didn’t connect with the characters,” or “This part was boring,” and you’d resist the urge to reply, “Well, Karen, maybe you’re boring.”

If you could afford it, you’d hire a professional editor. If not, you’d edit it yourself, which was like performing surgery on your own child. Painful, messy, and guaranteed to leave scars.

5. Research

Research is the necessary evil of writing, especially for non-fiction or historically accurate fiction. It’s the part of the process where you willingly dive headfirst into a rabbit hole of facts, only to emerge hours later wondering why you now know the mating habits of 18th-century pigeons but still haven’t figured out what your protagonist’s name is. Research is both a blessing and a curse—it gives your work depth and believability, but it also makes you question your life choices when you’re Googling things like, “How long does it take for a body to decompose in a swamp?” and praying your internet provider isn’t judging you.

For example, if you’re writing sci-fi, you might find yourself studying quantum physics or emerging technologies, which sounds impressive until you realize you’re just trying to figure out how to explain time travel without sounding like a lunatic. Or, if you’re me, you might Google “how to sabotage an airplane” and then spend the next week convinced that the FBI is about to kick down your door. I mean, imagine it: covert agents taping over your outdoor cameras, RF jamming your phone so you can’t call for help, cutting the power to your house, shooting your dogs (RIP, Fido), and snipers perched in trees a mile away, just waiting for you to answer the door in your pajamas—or, let’s be honest, nude—so they can interrogate you about your questionable search history.

Wait. I never Googled that. Nope. Never happened. But damn, wouldn’t that make a killer chapter in a thriller? Picture it: the protagonist is a writer who accidentally stumbles onto some classified government conspiracy while researching their next book. Suddenly, their innocent Google searches turn into a one-way ticket to paranoia-ville, complete with black SUVs tailing them and mysterious men in suits showing up at their local coffee shop. Someone call Netflix—I think I just wrote their next hit series.

But seriously, research is the backbone of good writing. Whether you’re crafting a historical epic or a sci-fi adventure, you need to know your shit. As Patricia Leslie points out, research is essential for both fiction and non-fiction writers. It helps develop characters, make settings believable, and weave fact and fiction together so seamlessly that readers can’t tell where one ends and the other begins

For non-fiction, accuracy is king. For fiction, it’s more like a benevolent dictator—you can bend the rules a little, but you still need to know what you’re doing.

The trick is to use research as a tool, not a crutch. Sure, you could spend weeks poring over vintage newspapers or interviewing experts, but at some point, you have to stop researching and start writing. Otherwise, you’ll end up with a head full of useless trivia and no book to show for it. And let’s be honest, no one’s going to be impressed that you know the exact dimensions of a 16th-century guillotine unless you actually use that knowledge in your story.

So, to all the writers out there: research responsibly. And maybe clear your browser history every now and then, just in case. You never know when the FBI might decide to pay you a visit.

6. Finding a Publisher

Before self-publishing, authors had to grovel at the feet of literary agents and publishers. You’d write query letters, pitch your book, and wait months for a response, only to get a rejection that said, “Not for us, but good luck!” It was like online dating, except instead of ghosting you, they sent a polite “no.”

7. Marketing and Promotion

Even after all that, the work wasn’t done. Authors had to promote their books like used car salesmen. Book tours, media appearances, social media campaigns—you name it. You’d beg people to buy your book, and they’d say, “I’ll wait for the movie.” Thanks, Aunt Linda.

The AI Problem

Now, thanks to AI, anyone can “write” a book in minutes. But let’s be honest: these programs aren’t writing books; they’re shitting them out. And the result? A flood of mediocre, soulless content clogging up the literary world like a fatberg in a sewer.

I’m all for technology as a tool. Word, Grammarly, ProWritingAid—these are great. But AI-generated books? That’s where I draw the line. I’m pushing for legislation that requires AI-generated books to wear a big, ugly label that says, “This was written by a robot.” Readers deserve to know if the “author” of their favorite romance novel is a human or a glorified toaster.

Final Thoughts

Writing is a job. A hard, thankless, occasionally soul-sucking job. There are days when I stare at my manuscript and think, “Why am I doing this?” But then I remember: because I love it. Because it’s who I am. And because the world needs more books written by real people with real stories to tell.

My book, Stupid Shit, is coming soon. Subscribe today so you can grab a copy when it drops. Trust me, it’ll be worth it. Or don’t. I’m not your mom.

-Best

Transform Anger into Understanding: The Art of Letter Writing

I am the king… of Shit Head Letters—a title I wear with a mix of humor and humility. Allow me to explain.

Much like my latest project Stupid Shit, due to release soon, there’s a catharsis in writing these letters. When the world feels upside down, and someone you care about has poisoned the well with their grievances—whether over something significant or trivial—it’s easy to let emotions take over. But I’ve learned that going to bed angry or upset only deepens the chaos. Much like the butterfly effect, our words and actions ripple outward, shaping the world around us. So, what do I do with these letters?
I write them. I pour every ounce of frustration, every unspoken word, onto the page. But here’s the key: I don’t send them. Instead, I let them marinate. Over time, those raw, emotional drafts are massaged into something kinder, gentler, and more reasoned. They become a reflection of understanding rather than anger.

Why Not Lash Out?

It’s tempting, isn’t it? To tell the world how ignorant someone is because they don’t agree with you. But before I do, I ask myself:
“What if I’m wrong?”
What if my feelings are based on someone else’s misguided messaging? What if I’m reacting to a misunderstanding rather than the truth?I remind myself of this:

Words are powerful. Use them to build bridges, not walls.

The Power of Words

In a world where opinions often clash, it’s easy to let emotions drive our responses. But hateful rhetoric doesn’t solve problems—it creates them. When we attack others out of anger, we risk escalating tensions and deepening divides. Hate speech, whether online or in person, has been linked to real-world harm, including violence and discrimination. Is that the legacy we want to leave behind?Hate doesn’t just hurt the target—it hurts you, too. Studies show that hateful content can lead to psychological distress for both the sender and the receiver. It damages relationships, reputations, and mental well-being.

Pause Before You Post

Before you hit “send” or “post,” take a moment to reflect:

Is this constructive or destructive?
Am I speaking from a place of understanding or anger?
Will this help solve the issue or make it worse?

Let’s Be the Change

Instead of spreading hate, let’s share ideas, listen to others, and build a community where everyone feels valued. The world doesn’t need more division—it needs more compassion. If you’re angry, write it out. Pound the keyboard until there’s nothing left but exhaustion. But don’t send it. Let it sit. Let it breathe. Until you can address the issue without emotions clouding your judgment, leave it alone.

I believe we can find common ground with anyone. Even if it’s as simple as agreeing on the color of the sky, there’s always a place to start. Let’s agree to disagree when necessary, but let’s also strive to find common ground where we can.

Much love,
A fellow human navigating this messy, beautiful world.

Epstein didn’t kill himself, and WTF DAN and KASH?

You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out who visited Little St. James. (Epstein’s Island).

Holy shit, Dan and Kash, never, ever play poker. Seriously, watching that interview was like watching two toddlers try to hide a cookie jar raid — except instead of crumbs, they left a trail of neon signs screaming, “I don’t know how to lie, please don’t notice!”

There’s this magical thing called “poker tells” — involuntary body language, verbal slips, or just plain dumbass behavior that gives away what you’re holding. And you two? You might as well have had giant thought bubbles flashing above your heads: “I’m clueless, please don’t call my bluff.”

If poker were a game of poker tells, you’d be the easiest reads in history. You didn’t just give away your hand; you handed it over with a bow and a damn slideshow. Next time, maybe try not looking like you’re auditioning for “How to Suck at Poker for Dummies.”

In poker, self-awareness is key — knowing when you’re sweating bullets or suddenly chatty can be the difference between winning and getting cleaned out. But you guys? You were broadcasting your cluelessness like it was a damn parade.

Now, Comey is such an artist when it comes to lying. If you compare the two as current and ex-heads of the FBI, you should be scared. While Dan and Kash were basically flashing their goddamn cards like neon signs screaming, “Hey, I’m a lying idiot!” James Comey was sitting there with a poker face so solid it could’ve been carved from the frozen tears of a thousand disappointed FBI agents.

Seriously, this guy’s poker face was so tight that David Bach — a professional poker player who makes a living spotting liars and bullshitters — vouched for Comey’s Senate testimony. Bach said Comey was telling the truth, which means Comey’s poker face wasn’t just good, it was “I’m about to win the fucking World Series of Poker” good. The dude was unreadable, like a goddamn sphinx wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in a poker chip.

Meanwhile, Dan and Kash? They were the human equivalent of a flashing “I’m lying” billboard. You could see their “tells” from space. If poker was about broadcasting your bullshit, they’d be champions. But Comey? Calm, cool, collected — the kind of player who keeps their cards so close to their chest you’d need a crowbar and a warrant just to get a peek.

There is a there there, and Trump’s Boys, they are too honest to run the FBI.

Isnt that a sad statement? “They are too honest to run the FBI.”

If you look at the history of the FBI and think of Hoover…He and Comey could be twins. Yes, Comey, take that as a compliment.

Jeffrey Epstein’s Little Shitshow Island: Who the Hell Flew There and Why?

So, do I believe Epstein strangled himself? Honestly, the official story is riddled with so many screw-ups, suspicious circumstances, and missing evidence that it’s hard not to be skeptical. The combination of malfunctioning cameras, sleeping guards, broken protocols, and Epstein’s connections to powerful people makes the “suicide” explanation feel like the least believable part of this whole mess.

In short: The official line says suicide, but the whole situation smells like a perfect storm of incompetence, cover-ups, and maybe something darker. Whether Epstein was murdered or managed to kill himself in a jail cell with all those screw-ups is still a question that probably won’t get a satisfying answer anytime soon. And that’s why the meme lives on — because sometimes, the truth is just too stupid or too fucked up to swallow without a healthy dose of skepticism and sarcasm.

So, Jeffrey Epstein had this private island called Little St. James. Sounds cute, right? Except it became the VIP hotspot for the kind of wild parties that make your average frat house look like a church picnic. We’re talking alleged sexual abuse of minors, drugs, and a guest list that reads like a “Who’s Who of People Who Should’ve Known Better (or Maybe Just Didn’t Give a Flying F***).” While the full sordid details are still wrapped tighter than a Kardashian’s Instagram DMs, flight logs, court docs, and investigative journalism have peeled back the curtain on who was hopping on Epstein’s personal jet to this debauchery Disneyland.

Who the Hell Was Flying on Epstein’s Creepy Jet?

1. The Usual Suspects: Rich, Famous, and Probably Morally Bankrupt

Flight logs and leaked phone data tracked nearly 200 devices back to fancy-ass neighborhoods and luxury mansions across the US and beyond. Think gated communities in Florida and Michigan, Martha’s Vineyard (because why not?), Nantucket, and even spots near Trump Tower. Basically, if you’ve got a yacht bigger than your ego, you were probably on the list.

These weren’t your average Joes. Nope, business tycoons, politicians, celebrities, and socialites who probably thought their money was a Get Out of Jail Free card for anything shady.

2. The “Oh, Really?” Celebrity and Political Edition

Bill Clinton: Flew on Epstein’s planes at least 17 times in the early 2000s. Sometimes with Secret Service, sometimes without. Clinton swears he didn’t know about the crimes and claims he never set foot on the island. Court docs and accuser testimony? Not so sure about that. But hey, who’s counting? He is still trying to figure out what the definition of IS is.

Donald Trump: Took a few joyrides on Epstein’s jet in the ’90s, sometimes with family. No official accusations of wrongdoing, but he was definitely in Epstein’s Palm Beach social circle and partied with him. Because nothing says “class” like rubbing elbows with a convicted sex offender.

Prince Andrew: The Duke of York, who apparently thought “bad decisions” was his middle name. Accused in court documents of sexual misconduct involving a minor trafficked by Epstein. Denies everything, but his name pops up in flight logs and island guest lists like an unwanted party crasher.

Celebrities: Naomi Campbell, Kevin Spacey, Chris Tucker — all took flights on Epstein’s jet. They all deny knowing anything about the creepy shit going down. Sure, Jan.

3. Epstein’s Inner Circle: The Real MVPs of This Clusterfuck

Ghislaine Maxwell: Epstein’s partner-in-crime, convicted sex trafficker, and frequent island resident. Basically the ringleader who made sure the whole nightmare ran smoothly.

Business Bigwigs: Billionaires like Les Wexner were close to Epstein. Some visited the island, some didn’t. All have since perfected the art of “I don’t know anything” face.

Why the Hell Would Anyone Participate in This?

1. Because Secrecy and Money Make You Feel Invincible

The island was remote, Epstein was loaded, and his guests were so rich they probably thought the law was just a suggestion. What happens on Little St. James stays on Little St. James — or so they hoped. Spoiler: It didn’t.

2. A Culture of Excess, Drugs, and “What the Actual F*”**

According to accusers and investigators, the island was basically a debauchery theme park for the ultra-wealthy. Wild parties, drugs, and the exploitation of girls as young as 14. Because nothing screams “good time” like illegal sex trafficking.

3. Networking, But Make It Creepy

For some, Epstein was a gateway to power, money, and influence. The island was less about friendship and more about transactional “fun.” You know, the kind of fun that ruins lives.

Speculating on the Motives and Activities (Because Why Not?)

The folks most likely to have flown to Epstein’s island for the “fun” stuff were:

People who love exclusive, secret parties and don’t mind skating on the edge of the law and morality.

Those who had something to gain from Epstein’s twisted network — money, power, or just a really messed-up story to tell their grandkids (or not).

And, of course, anyone dumb enough to think their actions would never see the light of day on a tiny island surrounded by ocean and bad decisions.

There you have it: a cocktail of rich assholes, bad choices, and a private island that was less “tropical paradise” and more “criminal circus.” Perfect material for Stupid Shit, because if there’s anything stupider than flying on Epstein’s jet, it’s pretending you didn’t know what the hell was going on.

Lets wrap this up for the 16 percent of people who believe Epstien killed himself and Kash, Pam, And Dan, are telling the truth.

Here are a few more thoughts for the 16% who believe the media, including the ladies of the view.

The Moon Landing Was Filmed on a Hollywood Soundstage

Because obviously, NASA had nothing better to do than hire Stanley Kubrick to fake the entire Apollo 11 mission. Forget the thousands of scientists and engineers — it was all just a big movie set with fake moon dust and zero gravity wires. Cue the dramatic “lights, camera, conspiracy!” 🎬🌕

Birds Aren’t Real — They’re Government Surveillance Drones

Yep, every pigeon, sparrow, and seagull is actually a tiny spy drone sent to watch your every move. So next time a bird poops on your car, remember: Big Brother is literally dropping you a message. 🐦📡

The Earth Is Flat and NASA Is Lying to You

Because all those satellite images, circumnavigation flights, and space missions are just part of a global cover-up to hide the fact that the Earth is a pancake. Gravity? Just a conspiracy to keep you from realizing you’re living on a giant dinner plate. 🥞🌍

The Illuminati Controls Everything, Including Your Morning Coffee

The secret society that allegedly runs the world also decides what you drink, eat, and binge-watch. Starbucks cups with their logo? Illuminati recruitment tools. Your barista? Probably a high-ranking member. ☕️👁️

Elvis Presley Is Still Alive and Living on Mars

Forget Graceland — Elvis faked his death and took a rocket to Mars to start a new life as the Red Planet’s King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. The Martians just haven’t told us yet because they’re still trying to learn “Jailhouse Rock.” 👽🎸

As a science fiction writer I thank god for government cover ups. Lets face it the truth is not near as entertaining as what we will create in the absence of the truth.

The “Oops, We Totally Found a Dead Alien but Lost the Body” Cover-Up

Apparently, the Pentagon once “accidentally” snagged an alien spacecraft along with its deceased pilot. But don’t worry, the government just misplaced the body somewhere between the classified vault and the coffee machine. Happens to the best of us, right?

Roswell: The Ultimate “We Swear It Was Just a Weather Balloon” Story

In 1947, a mysterious crash in Roswell, New Mexico, sparked rumors of alien visitors. The government’s official explanation? A weather balloon. Because when you find something that looks like a spaceship, the first logical conclusion is definitely meteorology.

The Secret UFO Retrieval Program Congress Pretends to Investigate

Congress is “investigating” a secret program that allegedly retrieves UFOs. Translation: lots of hearings, a few vague statements, and zero actual answers — the perfect recipe for keeping the public guessing while the government enjoys its popcorn.

Declassified Memos That Say “We Don’t Know What This Is Either”

After decades of classified documents being released, the government basically admits, “Yeah, we have no clue what some of these flying objects are, but we’re definitely not telling you.” Because mystery is more fun when it’s government-approved.

The Navy’s UFO Encounters That Are Totally Not Aliens, Promise

The Navy has reported inexplicable flying objects near nuclear weapons sites. But hey, it’s probably just a flock of very confused seagulls or maybe some rogue drones. Aliens? Nah, that’s just sci-fi nonsense.

Alien Abductions? Just Your Imagination, or Maybe a Budd Hopkins Book

Some UFO researchers popularized alien abduction stories, but even believers admit some cases are hoaxes. So if you suddenly remember missing time, it’s probably just a nap or a really vivid dream — not an intergalactic joyride.

The real tragedy in this circus of nonsense? Our hard-earned tax dollars are getting flushed straight down the bullshit toilet. Yep, while you’re sweating over rent and ramen, Uncle Sam’s busy funding the greatest collection of “WTF” moments ever assembled. It’s like we’re all chipping in for a front-row seat to the world’s most expensive clown show — and spoiler alert: the clowns don’t even know they’re the joke.

Stay tuned for the release dates of my latest books. “Stupid Shit” is almost finished.

-Best

Today’s Stupid Shit Moment: Independence Day Edition

Ah, Independence Day. A time for fireworks, BBQs, and, apparently, a parade of people doing stupid shit that makes you question how we’ve survived as a species this long. For those of you in the U.S. or Americans abroad, Happy Independence Day! You’ve earned it. Well, most of you. Some of you are out there being paid to metaphorically (and maybe literally) piss your pants in public because you think it’s a good idea to protest a president who—brace yourselves—actually believes in putting America first. Shocking, I know.

To those of you playing the role of “useful idiot,” let me just say, your about as helpful as a parachute that opens on impact.

Oh, and while you’re out there playing political charades, make sure you report that dark money on your taxes. Seriously. Uncle Sam doesn’t give a shit about your “cause,” but he will care about the fact that you’re skipping out on your dues. If you think you’re above the law when it comes to taxes, let me introduce you to a little history lesson: Al Capone. You know, the guy who ran an entire criminal empire but got taken down because he couldn’t be bothered to file his 1040? Yeah, that guy.

And don’t think for a second that you’re too clever to get caught. The IRS is like a bloodhound with a caffeine addiction—they’ll sniff out your shady finances faster than you can say “offshore account.” And when they do, don’t be surprised if your new address is Alligator Alkatraz, the newest prison where tax evaders go to share a cell with a gator named Chompers. Spoiler alert: Chompers doesn’t care about your political affiliations, but he does care about how tasty you look.

I hear the mosquitoes in the newest Florida prison create a relentless, high-pitched buzzing, a cacophony that makes the alligators sound like gentle giants in comparison.

So, here’s some free advice: stop trying to Jedi-mind-trick people into thinking your bullshit is revolutionary, pay your damn taxes, and maybe—just maybe—try doing something productive for once. Like knitting. Or learning how to juggle. Or, I don’t know, not being a walking punchline.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I get it. I understand both sides of the equation. Communism? Not the answer. Hating on cops? Also not the answer. And for the love of all that is holy, tossing 90-year-old grandmas who crossed the border illegally into the slammer? Yeah, probably not the answer either. But here’s the kicker: it’s above your pay grade to fix all this shit. So maybe stop taking dark money to unravel the fabric of this country faster than a cheap sweater in a washing machine. Just a thought.

A quick thank you to the real MVPs.

To the veterans who sacrificed so we could have these kinds of conversations (and by “conversations,” I mean yelling at each other on Twitter): thank you. You’re the reason we can argue about stupid shit like pineapple on pizza or whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

To law enforcement: you’re the best. We back the blue—well, the ones who actually support the American people. The rest of you? Maybe consider a career change. I hear Starbucks is hiring.

For the Writers Out There: How to Make It Big (Without Losing Your Mind)

Now, let’s pivot to something less rage-inducing and more productive: writing. I know a lot of you dream of being “independent” from working for The Man. You want to write your way to fame and fortune, sipping margaritas on a beach while your books sell themselves. Spoiler alert: it’s not that easy. But it’s not impossible either. Let’s take a look at two wildly successful authors—J.K. Rowling and E.L. James—and see what we can learn from their journeys.

Secrets of Success for Authors Like J.K. Rowling and E.L. James

Perseverance and Resilience J.K. Rowling was a single mom living in poverty, writing in cafes while her baby drooled on her shoulder. She got rejected 12 times before Bloomsbury finally said, “Fine, we’ll publish your wizard book.” E.L. James? She started in fanfiction, reworking her stories into the “Fifty Shades” trilogy after getting feedback from online communities. Moral of the story? Rejection is just the universe’s way of saying, ‘Not yet, bitch.’

Don’t skim, read; this text is full of wisdom.

Unique and Relatable Stories Rowling gave us a magical world with themes like friendship, loss, and courage. E.L. James? She tapped into a niche market with her bold, unconventional storytelling. (Translation: she made BDSM mainstream. You’re welcome, society.) The lesson here? Be unique. Be relatable. And if all else fails, throw in some handcuffs.

Discipline and Hard Work Rowling rewrote the opening chapter of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone 15 times. FIFTEEN. Meanwhile, James worked tirelessly to turn her fanfiction into a polished trilogy. The takeaway? Writing is hard. Suck it up and do the work.

Embracing Criticism and Rejection Both authors faced rejection and criticism. Rowling’s manuscript was rejected by multiple publishers, and James got roasted for her writing style. But guess what? They didn’t quit. They used the feedback to improve. Pro tip: Grow a thick skin. You’re gonna need it.

Leveraging Opportunities and Platforms E.L. James started in online fanfiction communities, building a loyal audience before going mainstream. Rowling expanded her books into films, merchandise, and theme parks. The lesson? Use every platform at your disposal. And don’t be afraid to think big.

Passion and Authenticity Both authors wrote stories they were passionate about. Rowling loved storytelling, and James was enthusiastic about exploring unconventional themes. (Again, handcuffs.) The point? Write what you love. Your passion will shine through.

Timing and Luck Talent and hard work are crucial, but timing and luck also play a role. Rowling’s manuscript landed on the right desk at the right time, and James’ trilogy blew up during the rise of digital publishing. The takeaway? You can’t control luck, but you can control how prepared you are when it strikes.

Building a Brand Rowling turned Harry Potter into a global empire. James capitalized on her trilogy with movie adaptations. The lesson? Think beyond the book. Could your work inspire a podcast, a screenplay, or even a line of merch? The possibilities are endless.

Final Thoughts for Aspiring Writers

Writing is a grind. It’s messy, frustrating, and sometimes feels like you’re screaming into the void. But it’s also rewarding as hell. So keep at it. Write your stupid shit. Share your stupid shit. And who knows? Maybe one day, your stupid shit will make you famous.

Now go forth and conquer. Or at least write something that doesn’t make people want to gouge their eyes out. Happy writing!

As for my book, Stupid Shit, let me tell you something: just when I think I’ve finally wrapped it up, the world goes, “Hold my beer,” and hands me yet another steaming pile of stupidity to write about. It’s like the universe is running a 24/7 stupidity buffet, and I’m the poor bastard with an all-you-can-eat pass. Seriously, I could be typing “The End” and BAM—someone out there decides to try and deep-fry a frozen turkey in their living room. Or, I don’t know, invents a new TikTok challenge that involves licking electrical outlets.

I mean, I try to filter out the mundane, everyday dumb shit—like people who still don’t know how to use a turn signal or those who microwave metal forks. That’s amateur hour. No, I’m here to bring you the absolute stupidest shit imaginable. The kind of stupidity that makes you stop, stare, and wonder how we’ve made it this far as a species without accidentally walking into the ocean en masse.

And let’s be real: I don’t just do this for you. Writing this book is therapy for me. Because if I didn’t laugh at this stuff, I’d probably be curled up in a corner, rocking back and forth, muttering, “Why, humanity, why?” But for you? It’s humor. It’s a front-row seat to the circus of idiocy that is modern life.

So, stay tuned. The world keeps giving me material, and I’ll keep serving it up hot and fresh. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: stupid shit never takes a day off.

Understanding Iran: Actions vs. Rhetoric

It seems my Whac-A-Mole blog post didn’t land as intended with a few folks. It may have come across as too lighthearted for the seriousness of the topic. For those who feel I wasn’t fully engaged with the actions of our government, I’d like to offer a more thoughtful perspective. Let’s dive in.

When assessing individuals, actions are a more reliable measure of character and intent than words. While words can be crafted to influence perception, actions provide tangible evidence of priorities and values. Observing behavior allows for more informed judgments about trustworthiness and fosters meaningful connections. Ultimately, actions reveal the essence of an individual’s principles and objectives, often outweighing the reliability of verbal declarations.

Watch what they do, not what they say.

Regarding Iran, its historical and contemporary actions underscore its role as a state sponsor of terrorism. Over the past four decades, Iran and its proxies have been linked to approximately 625 American deaths, with many more injured. This figure likely underrepresents the full extent of harm due to challenges in attributing certain attacks and the ongoing nature of proxy operations.

The 1979 Iranian hostage crisis exemplifies the breakdown of U.S.-Iran relations. Fifty-two Americans were held for 444 days in retaliation for the U.S. granting asylum to the deposed Shah. This event not only strained diplomatic ties but also had significant domestic political repercussions, contributing to President Jimmy Carter’s electoral defeat.

Iran’s leadership, particularly Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, has consistently expressed hostility toward the U.S. and Israel. Chants of “Death to America” and “Death to Israel” are common. While such rhetoric is sometimes framed as opposition to Western values, Iran’s actions—such as enriching uranium to 60%, far exceeding the 3% required for civilian energy purposes—suggest intentions inconsistent with its claims.

The regime’s treatment of its citizens, including the execution of women for minor infractions, highlights its oppressive governance. These actions, rather than rhetoric, provide a clearer understanding of the regime’s priorities and objectives.

Given the lack of public access to the intelligence that informed this decision, one must assume the information provided to President Donald Trump was credible and that his response was both decisive and proportionate. Uranium enrichment at levels far exceeding the 3% required for civilian energy raises legitimate concerns about potential military applications.

Centrifuge technology, central to the enrichment process, can be reconfigured to produce weapons-grade material, blurring the line between civilian and military use.

The hope remains that such actions will deter Iran from pursuing nuclear weapons and encourage the regime to adopt a more cooperative stance in the region. However, as history has shown, Iran’s nuclear program has been a persistent source of international tension, with disagreements over its right to enrich uranium complicating diplomatic efforts.

Whether this intervention will lead to a long-term resolution or further entrench hostilities remains uncertain.

Ok, enough blogging for today. I have books to edit…Blah!

Dissecting 2012: The Hero’s Journey Explained

I don’t always watch movies on TV, but when I do, it’s usually because I’ve run out of excuses to avoid them. Truth be told, the last time I sat down for a cinematic experience, Twisters was still blowing cows across the screen. Why the long hiatus? Well, when you’ve written over 90 million words (yes, I counted), your brain tends to treat “relaxation” like a mythical creature—something you’ve heard about but never actually seen. But hey, even the most overworked wordsmith deserves a mental vacation every now and then, right?

So, I decided to dust off my popcorn bowl and dive into 2012, Roland Emmerich’s epic disaster flick. But because I’m a writer (and therefore incapable of turning off my analytical brain), I thought it’d be fun to dissect the movie through the lens of the Hero’s Journey. If you’re not a writer, you might be thinking, “Why should I care?” And honestly, fair point. But stick around—there’s a good chance you’ll leave this with a newfound appreciation for both storytelling and John Cusack’s ability to outrun the apocalypse in a limo.

The Hero’s Journey: A Quick Crash Course

Before we dive into the fiery pits of 2012, let’s talk about the Hero’s Journey—a storytelling framework so universal it’s basically the avocado toast of narrative structures. Coined by Joseph Campbell, it’s the blueprint for every epic tale, from The Odyssey to Star Wars to, yes, 2012. Here’s the gist:

Ordinary World: The hero starts in their boring, everyday life. Think “before Frodo left the Shire” or “before Harry got his Hogwarts letter.”

Call to Adventure: Something shakes up the status quo. Usually, it’s a big ol’ problem that can’t be ignored.

Refusal of the Call: The hero hesitates because, let’s face it, saving the world sounds exhausting.

Meeting the Mentor: Enter the wise guide who says, “You’ve got this!” (or, in some cases, “You’re doomed, but good luck!”).

Crossing the Threshold: The hero leaves their comfort zone and steps into the unknown. Cue dramatic music.

Tests, Allies, and Enemies: The hero faces challenges, makes friends, and punches bad guys (or, in this case, dodges tsunamis).

The Ordeal: The big, climactic moment where everything’s on the line.

The Reward: The hero achieves their goal—or at least survives long enough to celebrate.

The Road Back: Time to head home, but not without a few more hurdles.

The Resurrection: The hero emerges transformed, wiser, and probably in need of a nap.

Return with the Elixir: The hero brings back something valuable to share with the world. (Spoiler: It’s usually not an actual elixir. Sorry.)

How 2012 Fits the Hero’s Journey (With a Dash of Chaos)

1. The Ordinary World

Meet Jackson Curtis (John Cusack), a struggling writer and part-time limo driver. His life is as ordinary as it gets—divorced, juggling kids, and probably wondering why his book sales are flatter than a pancake. If this were a sitcom, his biggest problem would be forgetting his ex-wife’s birthday. But alas, this is a disaster movie, so things are about to get way worse.

2. The Call to Adventure

Jackson stumbles upon a conspiracy theorist (Woody Harrelson, in peak “crazy guy with a radio” mode) who warns him that the world is about to end. Naturally, Jackson’s first reaction is, “Yeah, okay, buddy.” But then the ground starts cracking open like a dropped egg, and suddenly, Charlie’s ramblings don’t seem so far-fetched.

3. Refusal of the Call

At first, Jackson doesn’t take the whole “apocalypse” thing seriously. I mean, who would? But when Los Angeles starts collapsing faster than my New Year’s resolutions, he realizes it’s time to grab the kids and hit the road. Or, in this case, the sky—because nothing says “family bonding” like escaping in a private plane.

4. Meeting the Mentor

Charlie Frost, our lovable doomsday prophet, serves as Jackson’s mentor. Sure, he’s a little unhinged, but he’s got the inside scoop on the government’s secret arks (because of course there are secret arks). His advice? “Head to the Himalayas.” His delivery? Equal parts helpful and unhinged.

5. Crossing the Threshold

This is where things go from “bad” to “holy crap.” Jackson and his family narrowly escape a crumbling Los Angeles in a limo—a scene so over-the-top it makes Fast & Furious look like a documentary. They’re officially in the unknown now, where survival is the name of the game.

6. Tests, Allies, and Enemies

The Curtis clan faces obstacle after obstacle: collapsing cities, selfish billionaires, and the occasional volcanic eruption. Allies include a Russian billionaire’s kids (because nothing says “teamwork” like rich kids in peril) and a geologist who’s trying to save humanity. Enemies? Pretty much everything else, including gravity.

7. Approach to the Inmost Cave

The gang finally reaches the Himalayas, where the arks are being prepped. But there’s a catch: they don’t have tickets. (Pro tip: Always RSVP to the apocalypse.) Sneaking aboard becomes their next big challenge.

8. The Ordeal

This is the big one. A massive tsunami threatens to destroy the ark, and Jackson has to risk his life to save everyone onboard. It’s tense, it’s dramatic, and it’s exactly what you’d expect from a movie where the stakes are literally “the end of the world.”

9. The Reward

Jackson and his family make it onto the ark, securing their survival. Humanity gets a second chance, and Jackson gets to be the hero his kids always wanted him to be. Win-win.

10. The Road Back

As the waters recede, the survivors aboard the ark prepare to face a drastically altered Earth. It’s a bittersweet moment—kind of like realizing you’ve survived a marathon, only to remember you still have to walk home.

11. The Resurrection

Jackson’s journey transforms him into a braver, more selfless version of himself. He reconciles with his family, proving that even in the face of global annihilation, there’s always time for personal growth.

12. Return with the Elixir

The survivors represent humanity’s chance to rebuild. Jackson’s “elixir” isn’t a magical potion—it’s hope, resilience, and the knowledge that even in the darkest times, we can find a way forward. (Cue inspirational music.)

Why the Hero’s Journey Matters

The Hero’s Journey isn’t just a storytelling formula—it’s a mirror for our own lives. We all face challenges, doubts, and moments of transformation. Sure, most of us aren’t dodging tsunamis or sneaking onto arks, but the core themes—struggle, growth, redemption—are universal. And that’s why it works, whether you’re writing a novel, watching 2012, or just trying to survive Monday morning.

So, the next time you watch a movie, ask yourself: Where’s the hero? What’s their journey? And most importantly, could you outrun an earthquake in a limo? (Spoiler: Unless you’re John Cusack or have a death wish, the answer is a resounding “hell no.”) But hey, if you’re feeling confident, go ahead and try. Just make sure someone’s filming it so the rest of us can enjoy your inevitable failure on YouTube.

Speaking of disasters, have you signed up for my emails yet? No? Why the hell not? What are you waiting for—a personal invitation? Fine. Here it is:

Dear Reader, please sign up for my emails so I can spam you with my questionable wisdom and occasional nuggets of brilliance. Love, Me.

There. Now you have no excuse. Unless, of course, you’re one of those people who still uses AOL and thinks email is for “serious business only.” In which case, I can’t help you.

Now, let me tell you about my current juggling act. I’m working on not one, but two books at the same time. That’s right—two. Because apparently, I enjoy torturing myself. One of them is called Stupid Shit, which, let’s be honest, is probably why you’re here. The other one? 1300 Feet Per Second, which is a psychological thriller.

And because I’m such a generous soul, I even find time to share blog posts about stupid shit. Or, occasionally, not-so-stupid shit. You know, for balance. It’s like a treasure chest of wisdom, except instead of gold coins, you’re getting sarcastic commentary and unsolicited advice. But hey, treasure is treasure, right? So go ahead—take something from my trove of brilliance. Or at least pretend you already knew all this stuff so I can feel like I’m making a difference.

Have a nice Day!

The Case Against SB3: A Defense of THC Use and other Stupid Shit

Why We Shouldn’t Be Making Criminals Out of People Who Just Want to Chill?

Let’s talk about SB3, the legislative dumpster fire that tried to ban THC products in Texas.

My blog posts tend to attract people from all walks of life—some who agree, some who don’t, and some who just want to argue for the sake of arguing. And honestly? I welcome it. I’ve always been the kind of person who asks, “What if…?” even when it annoys the hell out of everyone else in the room. But one thing I won’t do is debate emotions. Facts? Sure. Emotions? That’s a fool’s errand, and I don’t have the patience for it.

So, when Governor DeSantis vetoed Florida’s SB 1698, I had a sneaking suspicion Abbott would follow suit with SB3 in Texas. And thank God he did, because SB3 was one of the dumbest pieces of legislation I’ve seen in a while.

Let’s get real for a second: the reasons for creating SB3 made absolutely no sense. Sure, there are people out there who’ve never inhaled (myself included), but that doesn’t mean I’m on some moral crusade to stop others from enjoying a little THC. Just because I want to keep my brain intact doesn’t mean Karen down the street shouldn’t be allowed to eat a gummy and stare at her ceiling fan for three hours.

But SB3 wasn’t about protecting kids or saving society from the horrors of THC. No, this was about money. Specifically, the medical marijuana industry’s money. THC products are cutting into their monopoly on cannabis, and they’re pissed about it. So, what do they do? They whip out their political cudgels and start swinging, convincing lawmakers to support a bill that even a third grader could see was a blatant cash grab.

Let’s be honest: most of the lawmakers who supported SB3 probably didn’t even believe in it. They were likely told, “Support this bill, or your pet project to build a statue of yourself in your hometown is toast.” And because politicians love their vanity projects, they caved faster than a Jenga tower in a hurricane.

The arguments for SB3 were laughable at best. “We need to protect the children!” they cried (cue Sally Struthers) as if kids are out here buying THC gummies in bulk. Newsflash: kids aren’t buying THC products any more than they’re buying alcohol or cigarettes. And if they are, maybe it’s time for parents to step up and, you know, parent.

The reality is, THC products are already regulated. They’re labeled, tested, and sold in stores that follow the law. The only thing SB3 would’ve accomplished is turning law-abiding adults into criminals for choosing a safer alternative to alcohol or opioids.

The Real Impact of SB3

If SB3 had passed, it wouldn’t have just banned THC products—it would’ve destroyed an entire industry. We’re talking about 53,000 jobs and an $8 billion market, gone overnight. Small businesses, farmers, and veterans would’ve been left out in the cold, all because a few politicians wanted to score points with their donors.

And let’s not forget the people who actually need these products. Veterans, for example, have been vocal about how THC helps them manage PTSD, chronic pain, and anxiety without resorting to opioids. One veteran even said, “These gummies saved my life.” But SB3 would’ve turned those same veterans into criminals for using a product that works for them. How’s that for gratitude?

Thankfully, Governor Abbott vetoed SB3, and for once, I have to give him credit. He recognized that the bill was a disaster waiting to happen. In his veto statement, Abbott pointed out that SB3 would’ve been dead on arrival in court because it directly conflicted with federal law. The 2018 Farm Bill legalized hemp products, and SB3 would’ve put Texas on a collision course with the feds.

Abbott also called for a regulatory framework instead of an outright ban. He suggested treating THC like alcohol, with age restrictions, product testing, and local government involvement. Is it perfect? No. But it’s a hell of a lot better than banning THC altogether.

At the end of the day, SB3 wasn’t about protecting kids or public safety. It was about money, power, and control. The medical marijuana industry wanted to crush its competition, and they almost succeeded. But thanks to Abbott’s veto, the hemp industry gets to live another day.

We shouldn’t be making criminals out of people who just want to relax with a little THC. We have bigger problems to deal with—like actual crime, poverty, and the fact that gas prices are still ridiculous. So let’s stop wasting time on stupid shit like SB3 and focus on things that actually matter.

Until then, I’ll be over here, sipping my coffee and wondering how we got to a point where banning THC gummies is treated like solving world hunger. Cheers.

If you haven’t signed up for my emails yet, now’s the time to get your shit together. Seriously, what are you waiting for? A handwritten invitation? My massive book, Stupid Shit, is coming along beautifully—like a fine wine, except it’s more like boxed wine because it’s cheap, accessible, and will probably leave you questioning your life choices. When it drops, I’ll most likely throw it on KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing, for those of you who don’t speak Amazon), so if you’ve got that account, you can read it and laugh your ass off for free. Yes, free. Because I’m generous like that. Or maybe I just want to make sure you have no excuse not to read it. Either way, you’re welcome.

Now, let me tell you about the genius behind this book. I wrote it in bite-sized chunks. Why? Because I know you. I know you’re busy. I know you don’t have time to sit down and read a 500-page manifesto on the stupidity of humanity. But you do have time to read a few pages while you’re doing your business. That’s right, this book is perfect for bathroom reading. When you’re sitting there, regretting every cheese burrito you’ve ever eaten, you can flip through Stupid Shit and laugh while simultaneously wondering why you thought dairy and beans were a good idea. It’s multitasking at its finest.

So, sign up for the emails. Stay tuned. And prepare yourself for a book that will make you laugh so hard you might just need to buy some extra toilet paper.

Trump’s Late Night Iran Strategy: A Game of Diplomatic Whack-a-Mole

As many of you might have heard, the US, under Trump—yes, that Trump—decided to play a little game of geopolitical whack-a-mole and removed three Uranium enrichment sites in Iran on a Saturday night. Because, you know, nothing says “I’m serious about diplomacy” like a late-night raid.
Now, some folks might argue that Iran was just trying to save the planet with their proposed nuclear energy programs. You know, the same way a toddler thinks they’re helping by “cleaning” the house with a garden hose. Most of you reading this would probably just nod and say, “Bless your heart,” while secretly rolling your eyes.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: we should pay attention to what people do, not just what they say. Talk is cheap, folks. Take the people crying foul over Trump not consulting Congress or the American people. Seriously? If they were in charge, they’d be the first ones waving a white flag and begging for mercy from anyone who hates this country.

Now, let’s talk about how this mission went off without a hitch—thanks to a little thing called secrecy. It was like a magic trick: “Now you see the B2 bombers heading to Guam, now you don’t!” Not getting permission from those who want to impeach Trump for merely existing? That’s the real sleight of hand.
Today’s media circus will be full of voices, both for and against. The naysayers will crank up the emotional tension, warning us that Iran, the world’s favorite sponsor of terror, is going to do something terrible. Spoiler alert: they always talk a big game, but their actions? Always violent and deadly.

Remember that phrase “speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far”? Good ol’ Teddy Roosevelt popularized it to remind us that diplomacy is great, but a strong military presence is even better. Last night, we saw that principle in action. Appeasers? They’re always going to get screwed by the oppressors. It’s a fact of life, like taxes and bad hair days.

Had Trump notified Congress, those who’ve been bought off by our enemies would have been tipped off. You know, the ones who want him impeached? Yeah, they’re probably on the payroll of foreign governments. Treason is a real thing, and maybe we should consider bringing back public hangings for those convicted of it. Talk about a big stick!

So, these are my thoughts on the stupid shit that is political posturing and theater. Those who talk shit are just pandering to the mindless masses who gobble up whatever the media, bought and paid for by America’s enemies, dishes out. It’s all emotional leverage to manipulate the masses who want to believe in crazy shit—like the tooth fairy, flat Earth theories, and other absurdities that make for entertaining blogs about stupid shit.

Have a nice day!

Why Stupid Shit Rules the Internet

Let’s be honest: the news is a soul-sucking black hole of despair. It’s like a daily reminder that humanity is collectively riding a unicycle on a tightrope over a pit of lava, and we’re all just hoping the clown in charge doesn’t sneeze. I, for one, can only stomach about two minutes of headlines before I’m ready to yeet my phone into the sun. As long as the sky is still blue, birds are still dive-bombing freshly washed cars with military precision, and gravity hasn’t given up on us yet, I’m good.

So, what do I do instead of doomscrolling? I dive headfirst into the cesspool of distractions: reels, TikTok, and YouTube. These platforms are like the junk food of the internet—deliciously addictive but guaranteed to rot your brain. And let’s be real, they’re also a breeding ground for some of the stupidest shit humanity has ever produced.

When I’m not doomscrolling or watching people do dumb things for clicks, I’m writing. Currently, I’m editing a thriller about a forensic expert who moonlights as an assassin. (Because why not? Who doesn’t love a little murder with their science?) Writing, my friends, is escapism on steroids. Unlike movies, where you’re stuck in someone else’s plot, writing lets you play God. I create worlds, people, places, and scenarios. I can make someone fall in love, get hit by a bus, or both—because I’m the boss.

But editing? Editing is like one of those adult coloring books that are supposed to be relaxing but actually make you want to set the whole thing on fire. It’s tedious, it’s boring, and it requires a level of self-control I simply do not possess. Which is why I keep getting distracted by—you guessed it—stupid shit.

Let’s talk about reels for a second. My God, this is the armpit of society, and I say that with love. Case in point: there’s this girl—no, woman—who has a pet scorpion. Yes, you read that right. A pet scorpion. She proudly shows off this venomous little nightmare, holding up its log like it’s a goddamn trophy, and proceeds to explain how it eats, how poisonous it is, and—wait for it—warns people not to pet it.

No shit, Sherlock. Who in their right mind is out here trying to cuddle a scorpion? “Oh, look at my adorable little murder bug! Isn’t he just the cutest?” No, Karen, he’s not. He’s a living fossil with a stinger that could ruin your whole week.

Let’s take a moment to appreciate the irony here. The word “pet” comes from the Scottish Gaelic word “peata,” which means “tame animal” or “companion.” In what f*cking world does a scorpion fit that definition? Unless you’re cuddling it, stroking it, or teaching it to fetch, it’s not a pet. It’s a red flag with legs.

Fun Fact: Scorpions Glow (and They’re Everywhere)

Now, I live in a place where scorpions are not a novelty—they’re a nuisance. They’re everywhere. I take a blacklight out at night to hunt them because, fun fact, they glow under UV light. It’s like a rave, but instead of dancing, you’re trying not to get stung. And no, I don’t pet them. Once you’ve stepped on one barefoot, you’ll understand why. Spoiler alert: it’s not a pleasant experience.

So, that’s where I’m at with my book, Stupid Shit. It’s coming along nicely, fueled by my fascination with words, my disdain for scorpions, and my love of calling out the ridiculousness of the world. If you want to stay updated on my blogs, book releases, or just want to laugh at the absurdity of life, sign up for my email list.

And as always, have a nice day! Or don’t. I’m not your mom.