Close!

The conversation Steve and I had about empanadas reminded me of a time when I asked Google something, and I think the AI, if it could, would have looked at me and said “Are you that stupid?”

If you ask Google what is the difference between two things, even if they’re not that similar, the AI will be generous and find some similarity. For example, when reminding myself what empanadas looked like, I asked to compare empanadas with samosas. It first said they were different, but they were both pastries with filling, and went about describing them. But in another case a few months ago, the AI just said “no!” and I felt really dumb. Here’s why.

Back a while ago, Dairy Queen had a sweet and spicy menu they were pushing. One of the items was a spicy lemonade. When I heard the commercial, I thought it said the lemonade was made with tahini. That was the only word in my vocabulary that even came close. So I pondered and I wondered and I thought. I don’t consider tahini spicy, but how on earth would that even go with lemonade? So I asked other people. And they hadn’t noticed the commercial and were also perplexed. I continued talking to other people, making the old broccoli ice cream joke about how lemonade and tahini are both good but you wouldn’t put them together,

and laughing and laughing because I thought I was so so funny. If you listened, you might have heard the sound of me digging myself a hole. Dig dig dig.

Here’s why. I thought the stuff in the lemonade was called Tahini. It is in fact called Tajín. You can see that this is not even close to tahini. *thump* Carin goes in the hole. Now all these people who watched me make dumb jokes either already think I’m a moron, or will as soon as they see what the name of the stuff actually is.

Hoping to redeem myself just a little bit, I asked Google, “are tahini and Tajín related?” This, or something similar, is what it said:

No, tahini and Tajín are not related. They are completely different foods from different parts of the world, and they only share a similar sound.
📌 The Main Differences
Feature
Tahini
Tajín

A creamy seed paste (like sesame butter)
A dry chili-lime seasoning powder…

Things have become a bit more generous since I googled this last time. At least now, the Google AI acknowledges their names share a similar sound because the j in Tajín is pronounced with an h and the i is pronounced with a long e. Back when I did it, it felt like the AI was just like “Nope. I don’t know what planet you’re on, stupidface. I can’t even imagine where you’re coming from at all.”

So yeah, I’ve learned something, and a bunch of people probably wish I knew stuff. Or maybe they learned something too, and we can feel silly together. I hope it’s that.

A Lot Of People Are Saying I Make The Best Mexican Food

I’m familiar with TACO (Trump Always Chickens Out) and NACHO (Not A Chance Hormuz Opens) as food acronyms to describe Trump’s approach to policy. But apparently I’m behind the times, because I was unaware of two more that people have been using. One of the benefits of having no social media, perhaps. Anyway, they’re fun, and just complicated enough that I know I’m not going to remember them, so I’ll stick them here for my benefit and yours.

One of the clever ways to deal with the unprecedented and disruptive U.S. presidency of Donald Trump is to make up acronyms using Mexican foods.
This has given us TACO — Trump Always Chickens Out — to reflect the U.S. president’s tendency to escalate a situation before retreating once the economic and political costs become too heavy.

Then there was EMPANADA — Everybody Makes Promises And Nobody Actually Delivers Anything — used to describe countries making outrageous and unachievable trade promises in the hope of avoiding the worst of Trump’s tariffs.
More recently, NACHO — Not A Chance Hormuz Opens — was popular. The vital Strait of Hormuz did sort of reopen after Washington and Tehran signed an interim peace deal on June 17. But even that partial relief is now in question after Trump said on Wednesday that the MOU was “over,” reviving the risk that the waterway could again become a pressure point.
Perhaps the best Mexican food acronym for Trump is TAMALES, standing for Trump Always Messes Around, Leaves Everybody Shafted.

Please Stop Ruining Corn On The Cob For Everyone

There’s some internet wisdom I’ve heard over the years that says that when a headline contains a question, the answer to that question is almost always no. Quite often, it’s correct. But here’s one of those almosts I was talking about.
Is It Rude To Shuck Corn Before Buying? We Asked an Expert

This has to be a city people thing, because I never noticed anyone doing it until I grew up and had to start living in cities and buying my own groceries. But now that I’m here, I can’t count all the times that Carin or I has had to sometimes rather firmly protest to get whomever happens to be helping us to stop trying to husk our damn cobs! It’s bad enough when they’re purchased, but sometimes they’re not even our damn cobs yet! And you wouldn’t believe how many of them are completely taken aback by this, as if *we’re* the ones from another planet.

Corn on the cob is not that hard. If you want to inspect it first, just pick it up and lightly molest it. Does it feel firm and heavy? If yes, you’ve likely found a good one. Then you buy it, you bring it home, and when you’re ready, you husk it and put it in the pot. Note that I said when you’re ready, because that’s important. Removing your husks and then letting it sit is a fine way to make sure that you’ll be eating worse corn.

And of course husking in public is rude. First of all, husking corn can be messy as all hell, so you should be doing it outside or indoors in a place where you can clean up after yourself. It shouldn’t be left to the already overworked people at the store or the market. And what makes you think that it’s ok to do this in the first place? Would you unwrap a cut of meat and then put it back? Would you peel a bunch of bananas and then decide you’re not taking them? That’s the sort of thing that would get you thrown out of any decent store. So for that reason alone, just don’t.

We reached out to Rob Shenot, owner of Shenot’s Farm and Market, who shared that while his grandfather, who was, in Rob’s words, the original corn king of their farm, was very annoyed by customers doing this very thing, he understands that some customers want to inspect before they buy. So, what takes the action from understandable to rude? This shift happens if the customer doesn’t take the ears that they’ve opened. As Shenot notes, “We don’t know how often our customers scrub under their fingernails, and if you’re not a professional corn picker, there’s a good chance you’ll pop some kernels at the top of the ear.” This affects the quality of the corn, as “the husk is a great protector against bruised kernels that also preserves moisture in the ear.”
The note about quality and how husked corn’s quality goes down is an oft-repeated point when arguing against husking corn before buying. It is strongly recommended that corn should only be husked right before being cooked or eaten—this keeps the kernels sweet, bright, and moist. And if you shuck corn and don’t buy it, it will dry out rapidly, most likely get rejected by other shoppers, and become part of the staggering food waste stats.

If you want to see this in action, go to a store and instead of buying fresh, unhusked corn, grab a couple of those plastic trays full of mostly husked cobs. They’re almost always under-sized and tough, not to mention that half of them look like they’ve been through a war.

I’m Proud To Introduce Our New Lead Detective

There was a ridiculous story back in February that we never got around to posting, but since there’s an update, let’s fix that now.

A police officer, clearly one of the department’s best and brightest, pulled a woman over for texting and driving because he had seen her holding a phone in her right hand. Normally that would be great, but there was just one small problem. She didn’t have a right hand.

In spite of the very obvious hole in his case, he ticketed her anyway, to the tune of $116.

In may, which seems entirely too long, the department asked that the citation be dismissed due to insufficient evidence, which…well…yeah. Evidence really doesn’t get much more insufficient than this.

And now, in August which also seems entirely too long, comes word that the Deputy in question, Yosvani Quesada, has been given a verbal reprimand. Verbal? Like not written down and stuck in his file forever? That oughta teach him.

Other than police officer or President of the United States, I’d love to know where I can find a job where no matter how terrible I am at it I can just keep failing up and up and up and up.

But at least this woman, who if my own disabled person experience means anything probably goes through more than her fair share of crap in an average day thanks to the general public, doesn’t have to pay for his incompetence.

According to a summary of a PBSO Internal Affairs report, PBSO Deputy Yosvani Quesada has received a verbal reprimand for the incident on February 11 when he pulled over Kathleen Thomas, a Lake Worth Beach resident, for texting while driving.
Thomas, who has only one arm, got a $116 ticket. The traffic stop in the 1800 block of North Dixie Highway in Lake Worth Beach was recorded on Deputy Quesada’s body-worn camera. Deputy Quesada told Thomas he saw her holding a cell phone in her right hand while driving, even though he could clearly see during the traffic stop that she had no right hand.
The Internal Affairs report says: “Deputy Sheriff Yosvani Quesada misunderstood the legal elements necessary to establish a violation of wireless communication, device hand held while driving-first offense.”

Here, Have A Multilingual Earworm

I have so many posts that I want to write that it’s kind of overwhelming, and my brain starts spinning, and then no posts come out. For one, I have accumulated over a year’s worth of sleep-talking in the comments that I need to get written up. And then there are the other posts that take lots of time and thought and I think about them and my brain runs away. So I thought I might do something small to maybe at least have done something.

Last month, we went on a trip to celebrate Sukie’s 10th birthday. Yes, that kid is 10. On our way there, we rode with my brother, his wife, and Kliks and Bricks of course. So we listened to some very kid-centric playlists all the way there and back. At least my brother has good taste, so they didn’t drive us bonkers.

There was this one song that he played a bunch that has stayed in my head, and whenever I hear it, I smile and it makes me all warm and fuzzy.

I can’t even put it into logical words. I had first thought it had been written for the World Cup, but it appears it was not. And they left out a few countries, but the point is there. I just like the concept that all around the world, when we get down to it, we’re not all that different. We speak different languages, but we’re not a bunch of aliens. “How are you” may be said in different ways, but it’s still the same question.

There was another part of me that thought about how many places use a similar version of the question and made me think about colonies and that influence…because even warm fuzzies can still be tinged with realism, I guess. Or maybe I’m a great big Debbie Downer.

I had to laugh at one point because a crazy part of me was trying to memorize the whole thing, taking in all the different how are yous, and Steve either knows me too well or sensed what I was doing because he said “There’ll be a quiz on this later.”

Anyway, here’s your sappy song. Enjoy. And don’t be surprised if it follows you around.

Somebody Hire This Man, Because This Was A Home Run

I don’t know how much Lewis Kalb paid to win this call an inning of baseball on the radio auction, but judging by how well he did, I think the Phillies ought to be paying him. It’s hard to believe that it is, but if this really is the first time he’s ever done commentary, it’s amazing. Other than using the word “delivers” too often for my taste, he was pretty well perfect. He’s got the voice of an old school baseball announcer. He knew stats. He described everything like you’re supposed to because it’s the radio. He went back and forth between answering the questions the other announcers were asking him and calling the pitches without missing a beat. Seriously, he nailed it. If he wants one, some team somewhere could do a whole lot worse than giving him a job.

Thankfully, Today Is August 10, 2026

When I was in high school, I read a book called the Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury. It had a lot of really deep stuff that I don’t think I truly grasped until I read it a second time. There was one story, though, that freaked me out even the first time I read it, although what really made me think was my mom’s reaction to hearing it. It was called There Will Come Soft Rains. It was all about a smart house, the only house still standing, even though none of its inhabitants had survived a nuclear disaster. Even though they were all dead, the house kept trying to live, continuing the routines that had been programmed into it. When I read it the first time, I just kept waiting for the happy ending that never came. When there were certain details described, mom knew exactly what was going on, and stopped what she was doing to listen. That’s how you know it’s a good story.

When I read it the second time, only a few years ago, two things jumped out at me. The first was how his idea of a smart house is a lot more plausible now with our devices linked and things that can be set on timers, with our robot vacuums and other robot appliances, with our thermostats that also can monitor the weather. But the second was the date. August 4, 2026. I was going to live through a date set in a sci-fi story.

When I realized this, I had a silly idea. I was going to create a blog post and schedule it to be released on August 4, 2026. I thought about saying something about how I hoped that Ray Bradbury’s envisioned future had not happened, and that everyone is still doing fine, but in case they’re not, here’s a small message from the past. I would sum up what was going on at the time I wrote the post, and wonder to myself how much will have changed by the time it was published. But life was a lot of crazy chaos, and the idea of the post completely slipped my mind, and now the day has come and gone.

I am happy that we are not living in a nuclear war…but with all the war going on overseas, the fear of something developing is not an unreal one. Ray Bradbury was creepily accurate in his electronics predictions, but also in his predictions of how no matter how many years go by, we still have so much conflict and struggle, and such potential to bring so much oblivion.

IDK

Remember back five years or so ago when the Ontario government was making people sign up to receive health card and driver’s license renewals electronically because they were no longer sending out print notices? Well, it came time for me to renew my health card, and not an electronic peep was heard. I did get my question answered about whether this applies to Ontario Photo Card holders. The answer is nope. I got a big ol’ paper notice telling me my purple card needed to be renewed. This was lucky for me because my health card renews at the same time as my Ontario Photo card, so I just did them both. But I wonder how many people didn’t get the texts they were promised.

There is a small part of me that wonders if the system was so smart that it knew the two pieces of ID were synced, so since I was already receiving a notice for the photo card, it just decided not to send the text about my health card. But I have many many doubts about that.

Maybe I’m the only one this happened to, but I’m just not sure. If it happened to more than me, do they know about it? Are they going to fix it? And if it happened to me because of something I’ve done wrong, I’d love to know what it is so I can fix it before the next renewal.

You Again!

That title likely won’t make sense to anyone but Carin, but it works and it’s the best I’ve got, so we’re going with it.

Speaking of Carin, any of you who know her, do yourselves a favour and picture this in her voice. Take it from me, it’s at least twice as amusing that way.
WE’RE HAVING A GET-TOGETHER. COULD YOU BRING YOUR MASSIVE, POORLY TRAINED DOG?

A few especially Carinesque snips to get you started:

Hey man, we’re having a little get-together in the park this weekend. I would love it if you could make it. We’ll have snacks, and you can bring a six-pack or something if you want. We’ll probably throw some tunes on the portable speaker, catch up, and just enjoy the afternoon.
Oh, one other thing, almost slipped my mind: Could you bring your massive, poorly trained dog?

As soon as you arrive, could you immediately take his leash off and then, after the fact, ask us if we’re cool with it?
Could you reassure us that—despite his size and general demeanor—he’s actually very friendly?

Once the spread’s been laid out on the picnic blanket, could he run across it, stamping one muddy paw in the open red pepper hummus container, and another squarely on our son’s face?

When your big, stinky mutt chases after another dog in the park, could you meekly call his name and say “come,” a request you may as well be making of the moon, for all the effect it will have, as your dog’s atavistic predatory instincts overwhelm what perfunctory efforts you’ve made to train him to live peacefully in a large, urban area?

Could you wait until the other dog’s owner starts calling out “Excuse me? Whose dog is this?” before you sheepishly amble over? When you return, could you make an offhand comment about how unreasonable the other owner is and how they shouldn’t bring their pup to the park if they’re not ready to “play” with other dogs, even though any definition of play that encompasses the depraved behavior of your gigantic, ungovernable hound would necessarily also include a spider’s “play” with a fly, a lion’s “play” with a gazelle, etc.?

Just Because He’s Dead Doesn’t Mean Her Life Has To Be Over

It’s not every day that being found dead next to a life-sized sex doll isn’t the most embarrassing part of such an event, but here we are.

Investigators say Ryan Smith, 41, and a colleague were dispatched last week to a home at the Rock Creek Apartments in Omaha to collect the body of an individual who died there.
“Near the body on the bed was a very real life size” sex doll, an investigator reported.
Police allege that Smith subsequently called the property manager and claimed that the local sheriff had asked him to remove the sex doll “to collect swabs for biopsy.”
Smith’s “strange request” was denied by the manager, who later returned to the apartment to discover that Smith was inside the unit (which had been locked with a deadbolt and chain).
After Smith exited the home with his shirt untucked and his pants in “disarray,” the property manager called cops, who later busted Smith on a felony burglary charge.

Something, probably the whole pants in disarray thing, prompted cops to take a closer look at the doll, which they described as “sticky”. They also observed that it appeared as though something had been rubbed on its inner thigh area.

That second one seems a little dubious to me since that’s kind of her whole thing, but it turns out there was more than enough evidence for a Judge Cox of all people to send Ryan Smith away for 90 days.