Everybody’s Got an Opinion. Yet, Nobody Knows a Fucking Thing
Everybody has an opinion about politics, immigration, the economy, and people they've never bothered to get to know. But somewhere along the way, we started confusing opinions with actual knowledge. From a frustrating conversation with my father to someone questioning my engagement to Dawna, I've had about enough of people who would rather judge, label, and repeat whatever bullshit they've been fed than think for themselves.
Just Fucking Saying
A Facebook meme claims no child ever feels born in the wrong body unless some creepy adult puts the idea in their head. Well, that's fucking news to me, because I knew something was wrong when I was three or four years old, long before the internet or anyone had explained what transgender meant. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be asking some hard fucking questions about diagnosing children and administering life-altering treatments. Parents need to parent, doctors need to practice medicine, and politicians need to get the fuck out of the examination room.
Luckily, I’m Not in Jail
All I wanted to do was get my wife's Dodge Challenger registered so she could leave on her road trip. Instead, I spent forty-five fucking minutes waiting for a bureaucrat to tell me one missing signature made the impossible impossible, drove across town to another MVD office that somehow figured it out, and then nearly got into a roadside fight with some douchebag in a white SUV who was riding my wife's ass. By the end of the day, Dawna was safely on the road, the car was legal, and I wasn't in handcuffs. I'm calling that a fucking win.
A Trail of Lipstick Smears and Corporate Mediocrity
Corporate America has a fucking problem. We've gotten remarkably good at promoting people who look successful without ever accomplishing a goddamned thing. A trail of lipstick smears and political connections has replaced competence, integrity, and accountability. Meanwhile, the people actually doing the work are left wondering how the fuck we're supposed to accomplish the mission. Is the workforce getting worse, or have I finally climbed high enough to see the corporate bullshit that's always been there?
I Don't Need Any Fucking Help Shopping
Two Le Pera motorcycle seats. Nearly $1,400 spent. Two failures at roughly 20,000 miles apiece. So naturally, I found myself shopping for yet another fucking motorcycle seat. And just when I thought the morning couldn't get more irritating, Microsoft Copilot decided I needed help shopping. Seriously? Ask my wife. The last fucking thing I need is help spending money on motorcycles.
The Fucking Public
Albuquerque has collected more than $11 million through automated speed enforcement, and now there's talk of letting cities keep an even bigger share. Meanwhile, the cameras keep multiplying. Government calls it public safety. I see an expanding surveillance system, an addiction to revenue, and another assault on individual liberty. Here's a fucking reminder: I am the public. You work for me. Not the other way around.
I Just Wanted to Know What the Fucking Camera Was
I just wanted to know what the fucking camera was. Instead, I found myself wandering through ordinances, policies, contracts, departments, and a municipal bureaucracy so complicated that understanding my own city government became a fucking research project. Government belongs to us. It shouldn't require a map through the labyrinth to figure out what the hell it's doing.
Twenty Fucking Feet
There was a trash can twenty fucking feet away. Instead, she left her cup, spilled drink, wrappers, and the remains of a jelly donut in the street for somebody else to clean up. It’s a tiny thing, until you realize how perfectly it represents the difference between liberty and entitlement.
We Wanted R2-D2. We Built Fucking C-3PO.
We spent decades imagining artificial intelligence as R2-D2: the competent little machine that quietly rolls over, plugs into the problem, saves everybody’s ass, and shuts the fuck up. Instead, we built C-3PO, a know-it-all that desperately wants to explain everything. George tried to fucking warn us.
Thanks for the Material, Asshole
The danger of putting your work into the world is that everybody has a fucking mouth, and the internet gave everybody balls. One anonymous asshole decided to make fun of a tooth I’m still dealing with after nearly dying in a motorcycle crash. Unfortunately for him, he picked on a fucking writer.
The Procedural Fucking Dance
I spent hours watching people move through a courthouse where the enormous power of the state had somehow become routine. Dates were scheduled. Names were called. People were told when to come back. Everyone played their part. But somewhere underneath all that fucking procedure, I kept wondering what happened to justice.
Get the Fuck Out of the Left Lane
The left lane isn't the “I'm going 68 in a 65, so I deserve to be here” lane. It isn't even the fucking speeding lane. It's the passing lane. Pass somebody, move the fuck over, and stop turning an incredibly simple traffic pattern into a clusterfuck for everyone behind you.
Dear MS Copilot, I Can Fucking Write
I’m fucking Gen X. I learned to write by hand, type on an actual typewriter, build an outline, stare at a blank page, fuck it up, crumple it up, and start again. AI can be an incredibly useful tool, but I’m not convinced we should outsource the basic human ability to take a thought out of our own heads and turn it into a fucking sentence.
Who the Fuck Authorized This?
Cameras are going up everywhere, and nobody seems to be asking the most important fucking question: who authorized government to routinely watch free citizens suspected of absolutely nothing? Liberty isn't being watched more responsibly. Liberty is being left the fuck alone.
The Free Fucking Bacon Problem
Maybe the free fucking bacon isn't really about bacon. Maybe it's about entitlement, responsibility, and what happens when people become so accustomed to somebody else solving every inconvenience that carrying the weight of liberty starts feeling like too much fucking work.
There’s a Special Place in Hell for Speakerphone People
I was just trying to eat breakfast and write in peace when one asshole decided the entire hotel needed to hear his speakerphone conversation. Then another one joined in. Somewhere between the tinny voices and my rapidly deteriorating sanity, I started wondering about entitlement, social awareness, and why the fuck people do this.
Put Your Back Into the Fucking Plow
Having a hard life doesn't give you a claim on somebody else's success. I've been broke. I've failed. I've trusted people I shouldn't have trusted. But nobody was coming to save me, so I got back up and kept fucking moving.
What the Fuck Happened?
A brutal three-hundred-mile motorcycle ride across southeastern New Mexico somehow turned into Texas liquor laws, government-mandated technology, individual liberty, and my general irritation with being protected from myself. I’m not entirely sure how the fuck we got here either.
Florence Is Going to Be Fucking Fine
Arizona has decided lane splitting is reckless driving. I have a simpler question: who’s the fucking victim? A motorcycle doing something a Toyota can’t doesn’t make it reckless, and Florence being uncomfortable doesn’t make it a crime.
Service Dogs and Weak Chins
I went out for Sunday breakfast intending to work on Undertow. Instead, while waiting for a table, I found myself contemplating two completely unrelated observations about humanity: fake fucking service animals and weak chins. So much for the best-laid plans.