THE BLOG

Tales and Musings from a Not Very Stable Mind

Stories, observations, opinions, memories, and whatever else seemed important enough to write down before I forgot it.

FROM THE CHIEF’S DESK

Yes, I Use AI. No, It Doesn’t Write Me.

I use AI to brainstorm, edit, organize, create images, and help drag decades of unfinished projects toward the finish line. I don’t see it as a replacement for my voice. I see it as a partner—one that gives millions of old words and half-finished ideas a fighting chance to become something real.

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LATEST MUSINGS


  • Day 4: The Ultimatum (The Open Letter)

    SERIESThe Corporate Emancipation: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 We’ve reached the conclusion of our series. Having thoroughly diagnosed the systemic dysfunction and psychological toll over at the Gigafactory, it is time for a solution. Dear Uncle Elon: Here are my terms. Let’s skip the pleasantries. You’re bleeding talent, your…

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  • Day 3: The Fallout (Hardcore Anonymous)

    SERIESThe Corporate Emancipation: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 Welcome back. Yesterday, we established that working at Tesla is functionally identical to a toxic eleven-year marriage. Today, we step inside the minds of those still trapped on the inside, waiting for their own glorious uncoupling. Imagine a group of seven…

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  • Day 2: The Diagnosis (The Seven-Year Glitch)

    SERIESThe Corporate Emancipation: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 Yesterday, I introduced you to the strange phenomenon of the “Happy Tesla Refugee”—inspired by my own son’s recent, highly celebrated termination. Today, we diagnose the pathology of the beast itself, and why escaping it feels so familiar. There are few feelings…

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  • Day 1: The Preamble (A Manifesto on Corporate Emancipation)

    SERIESThe Corporate Emancipation: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 There is a standard script for how a person is supposed to react when they lose their job. There should be shock, followed by a mild existential crisis, a sudden tightening of the household budget, and perhaps a somber updating of…

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  • Yes, I Use AI. No, It Doesn’t Write Me.

    Why I use AI, what I use it for, and why I’m not the least bit embarrassed about it. Yes. I use AI. Quite a bit, actually. I use it to brainstorm. I use it to organize ideas. I use it as a writing assistant and an editor. I use it to develop book-cover concepts…

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  • A Thousand Years, She Says—As I Settle into Dust

    Some promises are made with magic crayons and zero regard for arthritis. The other day I woke up feeling every bit of my age—closer to 70 than I was last year, and a few decades past my warranty. Still, I seem younger than some of my peers, mostly because I still pretend I can do…

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  • Leaving Behind a Joyful Mess: Love, Legacy, and a Garage

    Living with joy, preparing for goodbye, and leaving a little less mess behind. I was watching The Resident the other night, a show that usually lands somewhere between medical drama and life philosophy in scrubs. One scene hit harder than I expected: a man, recently diagnosed with cancer, decides not to pursue chemo. His reasons…

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  • Revenant Webbing: The Ache of a Fading Mind

    Even coffee can’t cut through this morning’s fog. Some mornings, the fog rolls in before my eyes even open. Today was one of them. It wasn’t exhaustion, or lack of motivation. It was the ache of not knowing exactly how to start the day. As if the instructions had been misplaced. Somewhere in the night,…

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  • A Great Grand Night with Grandkids

    Life gets even better when you become a grandparent Last night was one of those magical evenings that remind me just how special this chapter of life truly is. If you’re not a grandparent yet, you can’t quite understand how deep the joy runs—but once you are, you get it. For me, being “Papa” isn’t…

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  • Snuggled Within a Snow Bubble

    Isolated from the world, finally catching up. Day five of near-total isolation. A thick blanket of snow has quieted the Memphis streets, and a stubborn layer of ice keeps the world at bay. I can still hear distant life humming along the highway—but here, on my street, it’s hushed. No surprise knocks on the door.…

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