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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It's primary season in Georgia, and right now there are at least three (three!) leading Republican candidates for governor currently airing television commercials during every Jeopardy! commercial break vowing to get tough on the same issue. Not taxes. Not jobs. Not education. Not data centers or immigration or crime or polluted water or unaffordable housing or traffic congestion or gas prices. The issue they're worried about is "men" stealing trophies in women's sports.

Yes, I do live in a basement, and no, I don't have a daughter, but I still have to wonder if that's really the biggest issue facing Georgians today. Or ever, really. Outsports.com lists only five openly transgendered athletes playing for Georgia teams the past twenty years. Exactly zero of those were biological men who joined women's teams in search of fame and fortune. Zero examples would seem to make this a solution in search of a problem.

Even recognizing there were a couple of swim meets in the recent past where transgendered women stormed our borders and won (or, as in the case of Riley Gaines, placed fifth), this still doesn't seem to be a problem because A) the Georgia High School Association banned transgendered girls from playing as girls on high school teams in 2022, B) the NCAA banned the same at the college level in February 2025, and C) Georgia passed a state law ("The Riley Gaines Act") banning them from any event statewide in April 2025. It's not (yet) illegal to be transgendered in Georgia, but they better not try kicking any girls' balls.

So we ask the question: why are all these Republican governor candidates spending so much time and money decrying a vanishingly rare situation that is already triply illegal in the state they say they know enough about to run? I guess it's too much work to come up with a plan to address the ongoing homeless crisis or social media monopolies when you can just keep holding up your pitchfork and yelling "Won't somebody please think of the trans children?"

All I can say for sure is that it doesn't look like I'll be voting Republican this year. Again.

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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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Every day we awaken to find that the world isn't even the place it was the night before. Predictably, that constant instability has led to fear, fear to anger, anger to hate, and hate to suffering. The goal should be to try to curtail that path, not accelerate it. Any man can only take so much injustice, cruelty, and bad taste before hopelessness wins.

Which is why I'm demanding that Kroger return to its previous recipe for Bread and Butter Chips.

Back in the good old days, the ingredients were listed as "Fresh cucumbers, sugar, water, vinegar, and less than 2% of: salt, spices (including mustard and celery seed), calcium chloride, turmeric extract (color), gum arabic, natural flavors." The result: deliciousness!

But now? Kroger pickles have become a "Product of Vietnam" with ingredients "Cucumbers, sugar, water, vinegar, salt, mustard seeds, celery seeds, gum arabic, natural flavor, turmeric oleoresin (for color)." Those may look like small changes (just 3% more salt and 2% more sugar), presumably to keep the price down, but they translate to soggier, sweeter, inferior pickles. Blech. I'll never underestimate the value of calcium chloride again.

If I have to watch as the United States sides with corporations, racists, and the enablers of pedophiles over the welfare of its own citizens; disavows medical and climate science; scuttles the global economy; turns its back on former allies Europe and NATO; solicits bribes from criminals and tyrants around the globe; murders people in international waters and its own streets; and bullies media conglomerates, law firms, and astronauts to deny its immoral behavior — you know, all the things 78 million American people voted for in 2024 — then at the very least I should be able to enjoy my favorite pickles as the legacy of the America I used to know crumbles around me. If you can't find joy in the little things, what's left?

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127/2559. Honey Don't! (2025)
Reminiscent of the earliest Coen brothers noirs like Blood Simple with the subversive comedy of Fargo, this movie has no particular message but a wryly amusing story of messed up people trying to make their way through a terribly fucked up world. I liked it.

128/2560. The Last Station (2009)
What a cast! The film aims to present the final days of Leo Tolstoy, which is probably best described as a story of messed up people trying to make their way through a terribly fucked up world.

129/2561. The Dark Angel (1935)
A British melodrama (based on a play) probably best described as a story of messed up people in love. At least in this case, it was the horrors of The Great War that messed them up. I thought the two male leads looked and behaved too similarly and got really confused in the third act if only because I'd already seen Love Affair and Sleepless in Seattle so it was too easy to anticipate the finale.

130/2562. Hey There, It's Yogi Bear (1964)
This was the first feature length Hanna-Barbera animated movie, and it was distributed to theaters by Columbia Pictures. I didn't know there were any, and I was surprised to find it's actually quite entertaining, especially the jaunty musical numbers, especially "St. Louis."

131/2563. The Man Called Flintstone (1966)
The Flinstones meets Get Smart in a movie that is slightly worse than either of those shows, mainly a fault of the need to maintain a single silly and dull plot for over an hour. Audiences must have agreed, because this was the last (of two) feature length Hanna-Barbera animated movie released by Columbia Pictures.

More to come.

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If you've read the news in the past few weeks, you may have a little trouble figuring out what the word "terrorism" actually means these days. It's being thrown around a lot to cover a lot of situations. So let's see if we can help clarify.

Merriam-Webster.com: ter·​ror·​ism, n: the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coercion.

Wiktionary.com: terrorism (usually uncountable, plural terrorisms) The use of unlawful violence against people or property to achieve political objectives.

Kids.Britannica.com: (under ter​ror​ism) Terrorists are people who use fear to try to change society.

As you can see, performing "terrorism" generally requires intent that the act would intimidate others into compliance with your desires out of a sense of fear. Darth Vader was a terrorist; he made his Imperial officers watch him kill their leaders so they would be too afraid to question his amoral orders. On the other hand, Freddy Krueger was not a terrorist; he was just a monster who enjoyed killing people.

The October 7 attack on Israel was an act of terrorism. The September 11 attack on America was an act of terrorism. Wearing white sheets and burning crosses in front yards has always been terrorism. Shootings on school campuses can be terrorism, but they can also just be murder. Trafficking drugs is itself not generally an act of terrorism, but in the right situation with the wrong sorts of people (like The Joker), it could be. Holding protest rallies is not terrorism (so long as there's no threat of violence). Fleeing across political borders, while illegal, is not terrorism (because people themselves are not inherently terrifying or seeking to force societal change by standing on one side or the other of an imaginary boundary).

Trying to escape police, while possibly unwise, is definitely not terrorism. Likewise, shooting someone in self defense, even if you were wrong to think you were in danger, is not terrorism either. But a hypothetical case of encouraging lethal force to subdue a fleeing suspect so others will think twice about trying to escape if they find themselves in the same situation? That's Darth Vader territory.

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I got into a polite disagreement about the relative merits of Breakfast at Tiffany's with Friend Ken, who admitted he has never much enjoyed movies from the late 50s through early 70s. Breakfast at Tiffany's aside, my uncultured friend is not entirely wrong. Obviously things did start to go a bit stale as the American Studio System died a slow death, but that doesn't mean there weren't movies worth watching in the 1960s. For example:

1960: Inherit the Wind with Tracy and Kelly taking turns stealing scenes. The Apartment deserves its Oscar for its sharp script, but I still prefer to watch (and listen to) The Magnificent Seven.

1961: Judgment at Nuremberg is still topical, as evidenced by the fact they just revisited it. I'm particularly fond of Murder, She Said, a fantastic whodunnit with a great theme. Of course, I hear Breakfast at Tiffany's is also pretty good.

1962: To Kill a Mockingbird. If you don't like that, we can't be friends (although I cannot tell you how many times I've watched The Music Man and Gypsy).

1963: Lilies of the Field has Poitier at his best, but I'm a sucker for Charade (which is not a Hitchcock film; his 1963 effort is The Birds which I also like very much).

1964: The Umbrellas of Cherborg is simply brilliant (best movie of the decade?), and if you like musicals, also A Hard Day's Night. Everyone has already seen Goldfinger, right? The template for all action spy movies to come.

1965: Bunny Lake is Missing. Yes, it's a lesser Otto Preminger film, but I'll take lesser Preminger over the likes of The Sound of Music and Doctor Zhivago any day.

1966: A Man for All Seasons won Oscar for a reason, but the tide is turning from the hackneyed films of yesteryear and there are a bunch of films from '66 that have entered enduring classic status, including Batman and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

1967: Hotel. I just love it. Actually, there's a lot to love about '67. I'm especially partial to In the Heat of the Night and the original Peter Cook/Dudley Moore Bedazzled, but you could throw a dart at most movies released this year and not come out too badly.

1968: The Phantom Tollbooth, because I grew up with it and was idly thinking about Subtraction Stew just yesterday. And while this is the year of Bullitt which stands up really well as an action film, I'd recommend The Swimmer as a hidden gem.

1969: Putney Swope is well outside the envelope of what came before it, but so are so many of the films of the year. I've seen quite a few movies from '69, when the cultural turmoil of the decade really starts to creep into almost everything, and I don't enjoy most of them, including the ones you're probably thinking of. I did, however, enjoy If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium and Z.

That's nothing like a complete list of worthwhile '60s movies, but the only way to find out what you'll really like is to start watching. Good luck, Ken.

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As I usually find when I already have an inkling of the correct answer, Google's AI response is wrong. (Is it ever right? What's the point of having access to the accrued knowledge of the human race if you never actually read it?)

I've read a lot of Superman comics, and I know that Superman has a yellow S-shield on a cape. However, I'll grant that not a lot of people actually read comic books anymore, Google apparently included. I'll also grant that Superman's cape in the influential 1940s animated Fleisher Studio cartoons was solid red (to make the animation easier and less costly), a trend that has been followed often in animated adaptations for similar reasons. But every live-action adaptation since Kirk Alyn's 15-part 1948 Superman serial has an S-shield on his cape. Maybe Google needs to watch more television.

Google's obviously wrong answer sent me looking through old comics for the real answer to my question of its first appearance, and the earliest I could find the cape shield in my copies of The Superman Chronicles reprints was in the historically significant¹ untitled Superman story² in Action Comics #13, cover dated June 1939, published on April 14, 1939.

Here's a sample panel, easily found in a Google Search™ (once I knew what I was looking for):

And, as if I needed any further confirmation, here are the issue's indexer notes from the fantastic (and Google-able) Grand Comics Database (GCD), online at comics.org since 1994:

The "S" symbol first appears on Superman's cape. ... Paul Cassidy is credited with adding the "S" symbol to the cape (but it only appears in some panels and not others), and the pencils and inks here look like his work. Note in particular the odd flying poses of Superman in panels one and five of the final page, which are characteristic of Cassidy. He claimed that [Superman creators Jerry] Siegel and [Joe] Shuster gave both he and Wayne Boring free reign to interpret the scripts as they liked.

Old school library for the win. Why did you make that so hard, Google?

¹ Action Comics #13 is most famous for being the first appearance of Superman's first recurring super villain: a bald criminal mastermind who vowed to "use this great intellect for crime" who called himself The Ultra-Humanite. (What, did you think it was Lex Luthor? That second-rate knock-off wouldn't show up for another 12 months.)

² The original publication has no printed title, which is not uncommon at the time. Modern reprints often refer this story as "Superman vs. the Cab Protective League," named for a protection racket organized by, you guessed it, the Ultra-Humanite. His criminal genius obviously didn't extend to naming things.

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86/2518. Hi, Nellie! (1934)
This movie has a weird structure. It's mostly a light comedy, with a haughty newspaper editor supposedly being taught a lesson by being busted down to the lonely hearts desk. There's less misogyny on display than you might expect (unusual for the era), and there's also a big story to break. I enjoyed it.

87/2519. Blondes at Work (1938)
Fourth (of nine) Torchy Blane movies. Hard-nosed newspaper reporter Torchy breaks a lot of rules (and laws) in this one as she races her detective fiance to break the story of a dead department store magnate. Enjoyable as all the ones that came before it (in no small part because of Torchy's mischievous irresponsibility in determined pursuit of a headline).

88/2520. The 400 Blows (1959)
This French film is much lauded, and I get it. It's incredibly modern in its sympathetic presentation of a much disturbed adolescent who is treated very poorly by the self-absorbed adults in his life. I wish I'd seen it at 14.

89/2521. Torchy Gets Her Man (1938)
Sixth (of nine) Torchy Blane movies. (I skipped 5 because Torchy isn't played by Glenda Farrell in that one.) Here the dramatic tension comes from the audience knowing more than Torchy or her fiance about the counterfeit ring they're chasing. Plus there's a police dog that only answers to German commands. Who doesn't love dogs?

90/2522. Torchy Blane in Chinatown (1939)
Seventh (of nine) Torchy Blane movies. New York's Chinatown doesn't have as much to do with the story as the title would suggest. Instead, Torchy (and her fiance) are on the hunt for a Chinese gang that implies supernatural force to extort money from a family of art collectors in possession of ancient Chinese family jewels. It's all a bit far-fetched, and the mystery is incredibly easy to crack. Still fun.

And since we've already covered three Torchy Blane movies, let's just skip ahead a bit and get to

96/2528. Torchy Blane Runs for Mayor (1939)
Eighth (of nine) Torchy Blane movies, and the last one to star Glenda Farrell. To tackle a corrupt political racket, Torchy does, indeed, run for mayor of New York on a campaign platform that would probably still work today. Not my favorite, but still worth the watch as Farrell's last Torchy.

More to come.

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Hannah, who last sent me questions in 2023, has broken her silence to write

"I was thinking about the post you made on May 17th, 2024, about taking your first COVID test. I remember thinking at the time that there can't be that many people left in the US who haven't taken a COVID test before, and I'm sure the number is even smaller a year later. I know a good chunk of people in the US say they haven't had COVID before (I only know two people who haven't had it) but I just think it's kind of wild that there are people out there who have never even tested for it."

For the record, I still haven't COVID (so far as I'm aware), so add me to your list, Hannah. And I haven't tested since that post in May 2024. But I agree with you, there really can't be many people in America who haven't been tested by now.

Nearly a billion tests had already been run in the US before widespread reporting ended in 2022. According to the CDC, the disease is still killing hundreds of people a week, so I assume testing remains widespread in medical facilities today. If you find someone who hasn't been tested in 2025, they're probably under 3 years old (although they do have tests for babies now, so even untested toddlers seem unlikely given how often rug rats get sick).

Hannah continues

"While I was looking for that post, I saw the one from January 24th, 2025. Why do you know that fact off the top of your head (that 10x more people in the US die every year from cattle than from sharks)? Do you peruse CDC data in your free time? Or did you hear it and then go to the CDC website to corroborate it? Or are you worried about getting killed by a cow? I'm just curious.

I'm flattered that anyone actually reads these posts thoroughly enough to criticize the sanity of my reading habits.

I know lots of facts off the top of my head. I should; I've been collecting them for almost 50 years. (I asked my parents for The Book of Lists for Christmas while I was still in elementary school.)

I'm pretty sure I first heard the cattle death statistic on Twitter, back when it was called Twitter and someone else owned it. And as I am prone to doing, I corroborated the basic veracity of what on the surface appeared to be an outlandish statement before repeating it. (I'm as gullible as the next Internet user, but I don't like repeating lies if I can help it.)

I do like to do research of that sort. Finding facts is fun, even when they run counter to my expectations. So, yeah, I've been known to deep dive in the CDC's data from time to time for giggles, just as I every once in a while wade through the Georgia Historic Newspaper archive when the mood strikes. Is that odd behavior? Doesn't seem so odd to me.

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