In anticipation of this week's National Spelling Bee (hooray!), a website I visit regularly, Language Log (languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu), has posted a list of "America's most misspelled words in 2026" as compiled by a website I have never visited, Unscramblerer (unscramblerer.com). The good news is that it's still just May, and there's plenty of time remaining before 2027 for us to get better at tomorrow, which, apparently, we love to put an extra m in. Americans are a generous people.

It seems the list was compiled by an Estonian, so it's mostly interesting as a lens for how outsiders interpret how Americans use our own language, at least as filtered through Google (the source of unscramblerer's data). For example, in their explainer, they call out the difficulty American spellers have with silent letters, giving the example of the "silent" c in schedule. As an American, I can definitely say that particular c isn't silent to us, though they're correct not to ask us to spell scissors. Unscramblerer also seem to think we struggle with color. Is this really a list of misspelled words in the King's English? We already knew British people talk funny, so it makes sense they would spell funny, too.

Even outside of those context clues, I'm not sure I have a great deal of faith in the rest of their list. Their "most common" misspelled were bougie (hooray, Marxism!), favorite, and through. The first is obviously already slang (though, again, in my experience, I've found it far more common in UK exports than native to the States), the second commonly drops the silent o when used in pidgin and comic strips, and even McDonald's prefers to drive thru. Granted, those are more fun than what I suspect remains the real worst offender: its / it's. I know the difference, yet its something I still type wrong all the time.

According to the list, the most commonly misspelled word in the state of Georgia (as in Oklahoma and Wyoming) was Chihuahua, which coincidentally happens to have been the question to the Daily Double answer "In Northern Mexico, a capital city, a state & a desert all have this name" in yesterday's episode of Jeopardy!. I'm pretty confident that I can spell that one (hooray, dogs!). I checked, and I have posted the word in three previous Wriphe.com blog posts in the past twenty-one years, so even if I have misspelled it, I've hardly done so commonly.

To be thorough (thourough? thorogh? Thoreau?), I double checked for Wriphe.com posts with common misspellings of Chihuahua and found none. However, Google tells me the most common misspelling is Chiwawa, and I'm quite sure I would never type such a thing intentionally. So if I misspelled it in here somewhere, which remains possible as spelling is not among my stronger suits and I can be very creative with my typos, it probably looks something more like Chihuahuah with a completely unnecessary extra h. As a generous American, I do so love to make things more complicated than they actually are.

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Because Cam asked for it: here's CeCe's new playmate, Cydney!

Cyd is pushing five months and, as you can see, she is still a fluffy puppy with a personality to match. I'd've mentioned her sooner, but I was supposed to be keeping her a secret so that Mom didn't get too mad at her sister for helping her ex-husband get another dog. Oops.

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While walking the dogs, I came up with a great idea for a blog post. I really thought it all out, too, paragraph by paragraph. But I made a mistake. Instead of typing it all up when I came back to the house, I instead sat down and played video games. As you can guess, now that I'm at my keyboard, I have no idea what it all was.

To be fair to me, I didn't go straight to video games. Before I played video games, I made a cup of coffee and a sandwich and moved seven boxes of comic books upstairs and watched Jeopardy!. Somehow, I can remember a lot of trivia, but I cannot remember what I was going to post right here.

If I'm being really fair, I should also admit that after I played video games, I then ate some sardines for dinner, drank another cup of coffee, watched Balls Up on Amazon Prime, and then sorted some comic books before I sat down here at my keyboard. One just shouldn't do that. Watch Balls Up, I mean.

In the continued interest of fairness, I'll say that I don't think this film's failure is entirely the fault of the underwritten script or the casting choices (although I find Mark Wahlberg only funny as a straight man making reaction shots, so I'd say it was a mistake to give him any jokes at all). Comedy, even puerile comedy, is built on subversion of expectations and timing, and this exceedingly puerile movie has neither. I expected better from Oscar-winning director Peter Farrelly, director of There's Something About Mary. My first laugh came at 41 minutes when the editor finally had the good sense to just leave Sasha Baron Cohen in frame while he was being silly. Sometimes the best editing is the least. For the record, my second and final laugh came late, at the well-telegraphed scene involving a vampire fish trapped in the urinary meatus of a penis. I don't know if it was a practical effect or CGI, but the absurdity of the situation definitely gave off welcome There's Something About Mary vibes. Finally.

So now you can see how I forgot what I was going to post. Could you remember five paragraphs after all that? No, of course not. No one could. At least the stream-of-consciousness dribble I wrote above is probably way better than whatever I had composed in my head. And, to paraphrase a much funnier movie, Brett Favre is the guy you should be with. I just want you to be happy, Mary.

52/2622. Balls Up (2026)

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Today was Henry's 5th birthday. He woke up early to bark at the pest control guy, then took a nap till after noon, had some of Mom's rotisserie chicken, visited with friends, went for a walk of his chosen direction and duration (that was my present to him; I tend to get impatient with all the mailbox sniffing), and had a nice desert licking the peanut butter off my PBJ knife. When they say it's a dog's life, I assume this is what they 're talking about.

Also today, while Mom and I were out on the patio with the poodles, Henry heard Audrey inside bark once asking to join us, so he took it upon himself to walk back to the kitchen door, which is held shut with a spring, and lean on it just enough that Audrey could get out. Then he calmy went back to lounging around the yard with Louis. That's why we often call him "The Good One." He knows what he is.

Fun fact: as a puppy, he was called Shakespeare. If I'd known that when I took him in, I'd still be calling him that. It fits.

Another fact I learned about him last week (from his foster mother) was that he had been adopted out to more families than I had been led to believe before he came to me at six months. He disliked one of them so much, he walked home to his foster family the next day. That doesn't surprise me. He's a very bright and confident boy, and I'm very pleased he has chosen to stick with me for four and a half years.

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Why is my Google News feed full of stores about how rampant commercialism and inept governments are leading to the impending collapse of Earth's ability to sustain life? Is this inspired by the current moon mission? Earth Day? AI data centers? War in the Middle East? Or just my particular doom scrolling preferences?

I'm a downer. I get it. But how about a nice link to dogs eating ice cream? Or Kpop Demon Hunter memes? Or news about cabinet members being fired for being terrible at their jobs? You know, the sorts of things that give hope that the universe isn't bent towards the worst possible outcomes.

Maybe if I just keep scrolling, I'll get to the good stuff....

Aw, geez. Now it's "I'd like to buy only America a Coke"? Fine, you win, universe.

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Over the weekend, a friend asked what I would do if I suddenly came into ten million dollars, no strings attached. My glib answer at the time was to refuse it. "What am I going to spend it on, art supplies?"

In hindsight I realize that when he asked the question, he knew something I didn't: a mutual friend had just received about the worst diagnosis a doctor can give. If there's anything money definitely can't buy, it's enough time.

As a wise general once said: "a death mark's not an easy thing to live with." But really, that's what we do every day. Life, by definition, is "the brief and futile struggle against inevitability." Not thinking about that truism is a psychological defense mechanism, a survival tactic. Skiing provides a good metaphor: look at the trees and you'll hit them, so we focus on the space in between instead. That's how we get by.

Being forced to look at the trees (memento mori as those pesky Romans say) is a good prompt to re-evaluate my current life choices. If I knew the end was near, would I be doing something differently? Are there experiences I'm missing? I have to say that even after some introspection, I can't really think of anything meaningful to me that I'm not already doing, that I've postponed, that I've sacrificed. I'm really lucky in that way, and I know it.

On the other other hand though, it's possible I'm wrong about why my friend was asking about the money. If he was actually thinking about giving me $10,000,000? Yes, please. I'll think of something to do with it. I'd hate for my obituary to say I passed up a fortune just because I aspire to nothing more than sitting with my dogs and playing video games.

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I took a bunch of pictures of yesterday's magnificent sunset, and I was going to post some of those, but looking at my camera roll I see that I have this pic of Henry playing with his Christmas present, and dogs are more important than clouds.

Clouds don't beg for belly rubs.

UPDATE: Just now, Henry walked up to the door to my bedroom and stood staring at me. It took me a minute to realize that he had just been outside in a light rain, and whenever his feet get wet, he has to go straight to the shower for a mud rinse. He was waiting for me to run the water so he could get clean and be allowed on the bed. I did what he wanted because I'm well trained.

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"I talked to God, and He told me it’s time to take a new step."

—New LSU Head Football Coach Lane Kiffin
in response to ESPN reporter Marty Smith's question
"Why was LSU the right choice for you?"
while standing in an airfield on his way out of Mississippi
which he abandoned before the 2025 postseason started
November 30, 2025

I'll be the first to admit that I have never been privy to any conversations that Lane Kiffin has had with his God, but I'm skeptical that any god really cares enough about Kiffin's financial situation to give him professional advice.

Kiffin is a football coach, not a preacher. At the risk of sounding blasphemous, it strikes me as no coincidence that Kiffin's new job is paying him $4 million more than the old. If money wasn't an issue, LSU could certainly save some of that cash for the players. Or even their students. Maybe pious Kiffin will share with the less fortunate.

Maybe I'm just jealous. God never tells me which jobs to take. (If God has been giving me career advice and I haven't heard it, whose fault is that?) I suppose it remains possible that Lane Kiffin has been hoarding God for himself. I bet $13 million a season buys a lot of divine advice.

And although this sounds to me like a con man's rhetorical trick to avoid honestly answering a reporter's nosy question, you can't argue with God. That's why there's a whole Commandment instructing not to take the Lord's name in vain. I'm sure Kiffin wouldn't break a Commandment any more than he'd break a contract. (That's probably why he coaches college and not pro ball; gotta keep that Sabbath day holy.)

Whatever the case, I'll just thank God that Lane Kiffin isn't coming to coach Georgia, home of the 2025 SEC Champion Bulldogs and the highest paid college football coach in the country. Go Dawgs!

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