Resist as much as possible without getting killed. BTW, I'm an Old-White-Guy Boomer. Not all people in my generation are lining up to kiss Trump's ass...

Groundhog Day.

1999 Toyota Tacoma. A dinky two-door job. Still running. It's old enough to buy itself a drink. Has a shell on the back. I'm the kind of guy who runs the car until it runs no more or isn't cost affordable. Get regular oil changes, general maintenance, nothing spectacular. A life utility vehicle. Little rusty around the edges, and definitely a car for an old dude who doesn't have to impress the chicks. As a matter of fact, it tends to attract older guys, like me, who walk up and say "that is such a cool truck."

And like a bad neighbor, State Farm won't care.

Exercise their water valves. Crawl under the kitchen sink and the bathroom sink, reach around behind the toilet, find the hot and cold valves behind the washing machine. Especially if you live in a hard water area as I do, in Southern California. I have it on my calendar to do it twice a year. If I don't, the valves will eventually become calcified and ossified and worthless. I say this based on hard experience.

Welp, there's your two choices ...

"Politics is Hollywood for ugly people." — Paul Begala

Damn shame, for her or anyone with cancer. I had a friend, quite a while ago, in her 30s. She developed ovarian cancer, and it took her out in short order. You never know, best to enjoy every day.

Very grateful for your focus and dedication. Bummer about the DDOS bullshit. Your efforts mean a lot to the communities.

Today: 203,067 miles. 85% of the distance to the moon. Destination, the Sea of Longevity.

My best thing happened unexpectedly on March 15, 1973. (Probably makes me the oldest person in the room.) My high school guidance counselor died in his sleep. Bummer for him, but lucky for me. Back in the ’60s, my school system had me pegged as a gifted student, which was a one-size fits all label. That tag followed me to high school, where as a green sophomore, I was assigned the "gifted" guidance counselor, Mr. Daly. Daly was also a history teacher, and greatly loved and admired. He was a retired USMC Vietnam vet, and suffered from Marfan syndrome, giving him a strange and imposing appearance. He was a force of nature, that guy. I was 15 when we first met, and I had no idea about what I would do with my life. Because of my label, Daly had it all figured out. In his mind I was on my way to become a doctor, lawyer, CEO, etc. Yeah — no thanks. I had no goals, only passions — Photography and Design. I wanted to enroll in my school's tech classes and follow my interests. Daly squashed that idea. Wasn't going to happen. I was heartbroken. As a kid of 15 I had no leverage, and didn't know how I could get what I wanted. My parents were no help; "He probably knows best" was the best they could do. A few weeks later, when I came to school on the 16th of March, word was that Mr. Daly had died the previous night. While the school was in mourning, I was a pretty happy kid. My new counselor had no objections to me taking the photo and design track. :: After high school, university and some preliminary jobs, I started my own marketing communications business (then called freelancing, today gig work) and continued for 30+ years by myself. Of course the work had its ups and downs, but I was happy and always employed. :: Now I'm 66 and retired, and I always wonder what my life would be like if Mr. Daly had lived and imposed his vision on my life. Guess I got lucky. :: Rest in peace, Mr. D.

Who?

Because Fuck Adobe.

"I'm sorry Dave, I can't wash that. This wardrobe is too important for you to jeopardize it."

OK Boomer has entered the chat. Seems most comments are from those looking forward. I left the paycheck life in 2019. Except for 2020 (catching up on every episode of The Office), I've been having a measured good time. I have lucky stars to thank. Got married in ’85. Adopted a daughter in ’91. Wife and I inherited a home when my mom died. We spent 30 years saving for retirement instead of paying a mortgage/rent. Was self-employed the whole time in marketing communications. Wife was a mid-level manager in health services, retired 2 years before me. We spent decades living below our means. I threw the towel in at 62. I think being self-employed (and a one-man show) prepared me for my after work life. I wasn't going to miss the office life and friends because I didn't have any, in the conventional sense. These days I work in the garden, getting dirt in my fingernails. I teach QiGong and Tai Chi pro-bono to a dedicated senior group at a local park, and I'm getting a similar gig with the city rec services to do the same. I'm a small-time landlord (one-unit granny flat behind the house). I recently transitioned from Mac to Windows (sorry Linux users, I know...) with great success. I drive a 25 year old stick-shift Toyota truck and hope it makes it to 300K. At 66, I exercise almost every day, and while I could be convinced to take a nap in the afternoon, I never do. My wife is a pickleball queen, and we manage to have lives together and apart. We both have pretty good health for oldies. Several of my peers have died recently, and the end of the road looms closer for me than ever before. My life is devoted to staying healthy and paying it forward as long as I can keep it together.

I retired.

So how will Apple craft this announcement in a way that avoids showing some kind of submission to the will and desires of the Android juggernaut? Let me guess... Anyone texting in from hardware other than an iPhone will still get the funky balloon color, eh?

I had a ton of karma points back in the old place. I think they sent me a notice saying I was in the top 5%. Didn't give a shit. Don't miss it. Just don't care at all. Glad to be here with you.

I will no longer be doing. I will don't.

Wait, what?