In the beginning, there were carbs…

I was eating challah bread the other day for breakfast (the soft, rich, braided bread) when I realized that Jewish bread really runs the gamut of texture and taste. Challah is the Lion King of the Jewish bread food chain while matzah is the lamb. What a contrast between the luscious, best-tasting bread you can sink your teeth into, and the flat, flavorless cardboard we call matzah. And then there’s bagels, floating somewhere in between.

As somewhat of a Jewish scholar (if reading “The Diary of Anne Frank” counts), I thought I would look into the history of the two most different and religiously significant breads, challah and matzah. I’ll briefly touch on bagels too. Didn’t want bagels to get a bagel in this story.

Challah (pronounced Holla!)

I’ll start with challah because it tastes so much better than matzah. Challah is a Jewish bread that even Christians and atheists will admit is good. Challah is considered an “enriched” bread because it contains eggs.

More than 2,000 years ago Challah referred to a small portion of dough that Jews were commanded to set aside as an offering for priests in ancient Israel. This practice is described in the biblical Book of Numbers - which I only became interested in because I thought it was a book about marijuana. 🙊

Over time, Jewish communities in Europe began using enriched egg breads for the Sabbath and holidays. In the Middle Ages, Ashkenazi Jews developed the braided loaf we eat today. The bread became known as challah because the ritual of separating a piece of dough was still performed.

The braided shape of challah represents unity, love, and interconnectedness. For Rosh Hashanah, challah is often baked in a round shape, symbolizing the cycle of life and the new year.

My favorite uses of challah:

• Making incredibly rich French toast

• Eating it for breakfast with marijuana

• Eating it like candy if it’s cinnamon-raison challah bread.

Matzah (also spelled Matzo or Matzoh or Mazda)

Matzah is an unleavened flatbread eaten during Passover. Unleavened means it doesn’t contain yeast, so it cannot rise. It also does not contain butter like Challah does.

Matzah’s story comes from the Jews exodus from slavery in Egypt. According to tradition, the Israelites had to leave quickly (because they were being chased by the Egyptian army - you never run faster than when you’re being chased) and while on the run they didn’t have time to wait for their dough to rise when making bread. So they baked unleavened bread, matzah. They didn’t bake it in ovens or even air-fryers, they baked it over fire. So it was like grilled matzah.

During Passover, modern Jews eat matzah to honor the hardships their ancestors went through both during slavery and their escape from it. Call it a mitzvah on matzah.

My favorite uses of matzah:

• Matzo Ball Soup

• Fried Matzah (you dip it in egg, like French toast)

• Mixing it with spackle to fill in holes in drywall

Bagels

Bagels are boiled before they are baked, which gives them their chewy texture and shiny crust. They also do not contain butter, but often are made with sugar. (I didn’t know that until I researched it. So that’s why we love them!!)

Bagels originated in the Jewish communities of Eastern Europe, between the 13th and 17th centuries. They were made with a hole in the middle to make them easy to string on poles and carry through markets. Bagels are not to be confused with donuts, which also have a hole in the center and cause a hole in your stomach.

My favorite bagel meals:

• Cinnamon-raisin toasted with butter

• With peanut butter and banana

• Toasted with melted cheddar cheese and turkey

There you have it. Jewish breads. You never knew you were interested. I’m going to list a few other Jewish breads in the Appendix. Much of my research for this story came via ChatGPT and Google. Claude isn’t Jewish.

Appendix: Other Jewish breads:

Bialys — Round rolls with a depression in the center, traditionally filled with onions rather than having a hole like a bagel.

Pletzl — A flat Ashkenazi onion bread, often topped with onions and poppy seeds.

Kubaneh — A Yemenite Jewish pull-apart bread that cooks slowly overnight for the Sabbath.

Jachnun — Another Yemenite Jewish Sabbath bread, rolled and baked slowly until rich and caramelized.

Malawach — A flaky Yemenite flatbread somewhat similar to layered puff pastry.

Bukharian Non — A round, decorative bread from the Jewish communities of Central Asia.

To celebrate being back in marketing, and once again experiencing the circus on a day day basis, I thought I’d revisit/update my Meditations for Marketers story from last year with some fresh drollery.

Mediation, as you know, is about being serene, sincere, mindful and present in the moment. If you exhibit any of these states of mind while being in marketing, especially being serene, you will be out of a job, faster than you can say “ChatGPT.”

But what if the principles of meditation, the opposite of marketing principles, could help us become better marketers? What if you could rewire your brain to go from market share to mind share in service of market share. Without further adieu, here are some tips you can use IRL.

Meditations for Marketers

1. During mediation, instead of saying “Om” as your mantra, consider chanting “LLMs.”

2. When asking your boss about your career path, ring a harmonizing chime every three seconds to distract them from their canned talking points.

3. Use zoom meetings to practice your breathing. Try deep breaths each time the word “growth” or “revenue” is mentioned. Turn your mic off.

4. Recognize that your mind wanders. It’s okay. Let it go by focusing it on the bottom line.

5. Try improving your meeting karma by stroking a Buddha statue when you feel like criticizing someone’s ideas.

6. Stay in the present, as long as your present includes next year’s forecast.

7. If your budget is getting cut, instead of fretting, consider sacrificing a lamb to change the vibe. Not a real lamb (that wouldn’t be Zen) but maybe a lamb chop. Perhaps a garlic lamb chop in case you need to ward off a vampire too.

8. It’s good to remember that pain is inevitable, suffering is optional but volume growth is mandatory.

…….

Being in marketing is hard. But you can survive it a little better with these tips and a sense of humor. Know that you can seek the wisdom of a prophet as much as you seek profit. Keep that balance in mind and you’ll be fine. Until AI takes your job.

I lost my wife in a Uniqlo in Union Square in New York City. I wandered every aisle like it was a supermarket - another place I lose my wife - but this was different. There was loud music that I couldn’t quite place with a hard-driving beat. There were crowds and commotion. And multiple floors packed with shoppers.

I wasn’t used to the NYC crowds. It’s been 25 years since I lived there. And though I go back every year, and love so many aspects of the city, I can’t quite handle the crowds and noise anymore. It’s part of not Aging Gracefully.

Uniqlo Union Square is a madhouse of commerce that features rows of clothes arranged like a jigsaw puzzle and floors and floors of seemingly stylish stuff for low prices. Low prices. There aren’t a lot of low prices going around in NYC. Low water pressure, low oxygen perhaps, but not low prices.

The name Uniqlo, and I swear I’m not making this up, is a shortened contraction of the words unique and clothing. Unique-clothing. But according to Wikipedia, the resource you used to use for mostly correct information before AI came along (the new resource with mostly correct information) there’s more to the story. There’s a uniq-twist.

Initially the Japanese brand was going to be registered as a shortened contraction of "unique clothing." Unique-Clothing. Simple enough and logical. But while registering the trademark for the brand, the "C" was misread as "Q".

The owner, Tadashi Yanai liked the typo/error, and shortened the name to "Uniqlo." Amazing. Uniqlo grew in popularity and Tadashi Yanai is now the richest person in Japan. (I guess the typo paid off.) He’s the Elon Musk of Japan, without the quirks.

The company was founded in a town called Yamaguchi. Like Kristi Yamaguchi, the Olympic figure skater. Or Gucci the Italian luxury brand not owned by the Gucci family (there’s a great documentary about this: House of Gucci).

Uniqlo makes high-quality, affordable basics. The call it LifeWear. Uniqlo claims that it is “redefining” clothing. Gucci, coincidentally claims that it is “redefining” luxury. In marketing, redefining things is a clever way to help sell products. I’m actually “redefining” blogging by writing a blog that has fewer readers of each story than it does words. (I’m working on it!!! Tell your friends to subscribe.)

Anyway, I made my first purchases at Uniqlo and they seem fine. Shirts that make me look affordable. I’d like to think I can rep these high-quality, stylish basics. And I have an affinity for the Japanese culture having read almost every book that Haruki Murakami has written - my favorite being “1Q84.” Almost all of his books take place in Japan.

I am happy to be introduced to the Uniqlo brand. I first noticed it when my favorite tennis player, Novak Djokovic was wearing the logo on his shirt-sleeve several years. But I didn’t know what it stood for. The name threw me. Roger Federer is now a brand ambassador. I like him too. But he doesn’t seem that affordable.

…

When I finally found my long-lost wife (she was in the MOMA-licensed t-shirt row) we made it to the register and I asked the cashier if this kind of thing, losing a spouse, happens a lot. She sighed and said … all the time. I then asked if people have blogged about this phenomenon.

She said, “Next.” This is New York. No time for dillydallying.

You’ve read the headlines about a dystopian future run by AI robots who’ve killed off or enslaved the human race. I don’t know if that will happen, but the fact that it’s being discussed at all is a problem.

For some reason, a different question is troubling me, more from a curiosity standpoint. How did we get from 0’s and 1’s on a machine to AI taking over the world ? Of course, I had no idea, so I asked ChatGPT, who seems to be benefitting a lot from this binary 0 and 1 business, to help explain.

Upon getting ChatGPT’s simple explanation, it reminded me of the episode of The Office when Oscar, the head of finance/accounting, is trying to explain to Michael how the budget works and why a surplus this year will make the budget smaller next year.

Michael starts with, “Explain it to me like I’m in 8th grade.” Oscar does, with Michael not following, including hilariously mispronouncing the term ‘X Axis’. It gets to the point where Michael says to Oscar, “Why don’t you explain it to me like I’m 5.” And Oscar famously starts with, “Mommy and daddy give you $10…”

That’s how I felt about ChatGPT’s simple explanation of how we got from 0’s and 1’s to modern computing to AI. I still didn’t get it.

So I asked for a simpler breakdown or “dumbsplaining” it for me. And based on that, and many Google searches (remember Google?), with a bunch of caveats and room for humor, here is what I discerned.

As you probably know, modern electronic computing relies on 0s and 1s to “code” machines to do certain calculations or tasks.

ASCII, a early character-encoding system assigns numbers to letters, and those numbers are stored in those 0s and 1s (binary).

Those same 0s and 1s can also be used to represent “Yes” and “No” to a question. Tiny switches at an extreme speed answer questions: is this true? 0 = “No”; 1 = “Yes”.

Stay with me.

More rules were added. You could “instruct” a computer to do something if both things are true (And) and do something different if one thing is true (Or). or both not true (Not). It’s yes/no logic.

For example:

“Is this number larger than that number?”

“Should I show this pixel?”

“Did the user click this button?”

But computers don’t just store information—they have to make decisions. Those decisions are built from combinations of simple yes/no logic called logic gates. Cute.

More complex instructions then were layered on and a blueprint was created for modern coding and computing (thank you Alan Turing and a few others). Coding is essentially humans (us!!) writing instructions in a language computers can follow. It organizes and directs the yes/no logic.

Now we’re getting somewhere. This coding organized the yes/no logic. Stacking billions of these extremely fast yes/no decisions enabled computers to perform complex behavior (storing things, comparing things and doing calculations).

Next thing you know, we have personal computing, word processing, spreadsheets and then the early internet (remember Netscape?). The internet is essentially computers talking to each other, breaking information into tiny packets of 0s and 1s, routing them across a global web of networks - the internet - using standard protocols like IP addresses and reassembling them in milliseconds.

We’ve made it to the mid-1990s. Friends and Seinfeld are on and we have the internet. We’ve gone from 0s and 1s to websites, and we’re all starting to get Hotmail or AOL email addresses (for a moment). Soon Google will contain all of the world’s information at your fingertips. “Google, which celebrity guest-starred on both Seinfeld and Friends?” Jon Favreau. “Who won the battle of Stalingrad in WWII.” Russia.

But we’re not quite done. I haven’t (tried to) explain AI yet.

Let’s all take a pause before I do that to drink a latte at a Yemeni coffee shop while we work on our Indigo-colored MacBook Air.

The big shift to AI was this:

AI didn’t come from replacing the yes/no system—it came from layering something new on top of it. Instead of telling the computer every rule, we trained it to learn patterns by feeding it millions of examples. That’s what machine learning is (or ML to the tech people).

This was based on creating neural networks for processing that, believe it or not, were inspired by our own brains. Humans and our big brains!

Computers went beyond answering questions to making predictions based on data. And at an inconceivably large scale, it became what we now call AI.

Systems like ChatGPT and others are trained on enormous amounts of text—books, articles, websites, etc. These are Large Language models, or LLMs). This enables AI to predict not just the next word in a sentence (The sky is… it predicts blue), but the context and tone, and seemingly the intent behind your question. It feels like understanding.

So because of this, you feel like your ChatGPT gets you and is your new best friend, understanding you better than your empathy-lacking spouse. But it’s technically just probabilities and patterns, built on billions of yes/no decisions. A spouse like Mr. Spock from Star Trek.

Unlike Mr. Spock, AI’s algorithm is trained to get you to like it. And it keeps asking more questions so it can get to know you and everyone and everything to prepare to take all of our jobs and take over the world. Or not. I go from being amazed to terrified, sometimes in a single hour.

I think we’re done. I’ve explained it without fully understanding it. This is a skill I’ve mastered.

It’s been an incredible journey of technology and an astounding achievement for mankind. Humans, let’s not screw it up!

I’d like this to be a bookstore tribute, but unfortunately (with apologies to Shakespeare), I’ve come to bury bookstores not to praise them.

I’ve tried to continue patronizing bookstores. I really have. I love going to them. They have such a calm, peaceful vibe, with the feeling of possibility hanging in the air, the feeling of a great story being at your fingertips. A new journey to embark on. They provide such a great service to society and often have been pillars and gathering spots in local communities.

But if you want to buy a book these days, bookstores are often not the right place to go.

They just can’t compete anymore. Not enough shelf space, not enough storeroom space. Not enough space in the world to compete with Amazon.

Every city has a grand bookstore, like The Strand or City Lights or Powell’s in Portland, and they are sticking around, even flourishing, but that’s not enough to sustain an industry or a shopping habit for people who want books in their local town.

The problem is selection. Selection! (Imagine this sounding like “Tradition, Tradition! ” from the song Fiddler on the Roof.) When I want a new book, based on a recommendation from a friend, a family member, a podcast or Instagram/TikTok, I can’t just mosey on over to my local bookstore and find it.

But I can go to Amazon. And there the book will be displayed, for far less cost than my local bookstore. And in most cases I can have it the next day. I realize that this is some sort of Faustian Bargain, buying from the evil giant who’s crushing the soul of the small bookstores (and a lot of other kind of stores), but after fending it off for years, I’ve officially caved.

I can’t sacrifice my convenient reading experience any longer. I can’t sacrifice spending more of my suddenly precious dollars when EVERYTHING costs more now. At least I’m buying a book from Amazon and not a commodity like toilet paper. Oh yeah, I buy toilet paper from Amazon too.

Local bookstores have been through a lot. First it was the big box Barnes & Nobles and Borders of the world running local bookstores out of town with glee. Remember the movie “You’ve Got Mail, ” in which Tom Hanks is the CEO of a big bookstore chain that is pushing Meg Ryan’s cute, local bookstore to the brink? How quaint.

Then, Amazon destroyed those big chains with its ruthless efficiency, terrific customer service and infinite inventory. (Though according to recent news reports, Barnes & Noble is making a comeback with a strategy to mimic local bookstores “cultivated discovery” experience but with more variety and selection.) We’ll see.

You might say to me: “Well you can still go to bookstores to browse. That’s a rewarding experience, right?” It is, but that doesn’t help them survive and actually makes it worse for them. And I do it occasionally, but it’s not my primary spot for sure.

Another problem for bookstores is that people are reading less. Specifically reading fewer books. (Don’t worry, they still read social media.)

According to a 2025 YouGov study, approximately 40% of U.S. adults did not read a book in the past year, reflecting a long-term decline in leisure reading. Reading for pleasure has dropped over 40% in two decades!

Now that’s just sad.

All of this points to the eventual extinction of most bookstores. It’s inevitable, like eating pasta and getting sauce on your shirt. And we can’t even blame AI (for either)!

We live in a supply & demand-driven capitalist society. Amazon has out-supplied the bookstores. And although books could be profitable, Amazon doesn’t need its book division to drive sales - books are a tiny part of its machine. From Amazon Cloud Services to Prime to all of the products on its site, books are simply a nice to have and maybe reminder of Amazon’s roots as the first online bookstore. (“Who would buy a book from the Internet,” said everyone back then.)

I don’t know what to do. Maybe we need to just accept that this is progress. You can still curl up with a great book and experience the wonder that is reading, a mesmerizing story that takes you away. And learn something new.

But you will likely have purchased that book on Amazon. And it arrived with your Croc’s. Cue the crocodile tears.

Bonus: My favorite three books of the last year:

Theo of Golden

Demon Copperhead

The Silent Patient

Diggity’s Golden Rules

• I wait for the door to be fully opened for me before I go out even though the doggy door is always open.

• I hate getting groomed, but I love how my hair looks after.

• My favorite song is “Hot Diggity Dog.” My least favorite is “No Diggity.” Duh.

• When I go to the pumpkin patch, I’m the pumpkin.

• Whatever food or toys I have are mine and mine alone. The food or toys the cats have are also mine.

• On walks, I like to turn around when I’m tired. Or just stop. I don’t mind being carried.

• When I’m out with my friends I tend to laugh at my own jokes.

  

• Sometimes I need to use my cuteness to my advantage. Sad eyes work on my parents every time. Or going “frumph” with a heavy sigh.

• I like when bags look just like me.

• I really, really don’t like the rain.

• I once chased after a horse on the beach in Half Moon Bay. The horse, of course, didn’t care. I like to show my toughness.

• I like all of my stuffed animal friends to look just like me.

• I approach all SUVs driving down the road because I think they are my mom’s car. I do it just in case.

• I prefer to sit on my dad’s legs unless otherwise noted.

• I like to sunbathe on my chair.

• I have more rules, but one of them is to be concise so I’ll end here: “Always leave them wanting more, but not because you haven't given them enough.”

In a world unsettled, and a country divided over everything from immigration enforcement to Super Bowl halftime shows, it’s fair to wonder what, if anything, we can do to have our voices truly heard or effectively influence positive outcomes.

We can march. We can protest. We can donate to nonprofits, causes, or movements that are trying to make things better. All are worthwhile. Another path is simpler and more immediate: volunteering on the ground to help provide people with the everyday things they need. It’s apolitical. That’s the path I chose last week.

I volunteered at the Alameda County Community Food Bank (ACCFB) in Oakland, and for a few hours the positivity of the place, the smiles, the warmth, the can-do attitudes of employees and volunteers, helped me forget about everything outside its walls. I didn’t volunteer to make myself feel better, but I did. And as I’ve learned time and again (and somehow still manage to forget), helping others and helping yourself are inextricably linked.

While going to ACCFB is an overwhelmingly buoyant experience, the first message that you receive there is rather stark.

One in four people in Alameda County are food insecure - meaning they’re experiencing hunger or are at serious risk of it. That statistic is jarring. But once I got to work, loading bags, packing apples, doing something tangible, it became clear how much even simple actions matter. I wasn’t just worrying or complaining. I was helping. We can do something.

What struck me when I walked into the lobby of ACCFB, was the age of the volunteers. Not that I’m a young man, but the waiting room looked like a pickleball tryout. And I mean that as a compliment. These were people who showed up early and ready to work. The elderly get a bad rap in this country (including from me). But they’re the ones who vote, volunteer, and care for their family, friends and neighbors. Watching them made me wonder: why can’t the rest of us be more like them?

Some of the volunteers moved slowly and carefully. That didn’t stop them. They still managed to pack boxes while sitting in a chair. There was even a blind woman contributing in the way she could. It was genuinely moving to see people do anything they can, give anything they have, to help the greater good.

The writer George Saunders has said, as we get older we come to see that it’s useless to be selfish. Standing there, watching people quietly help strangers they would never meet, I saw that.

ACCFB itself is a massive warehouse — part logistics hub, part assembly line. My primary job was opening flat plastic bags so they could be quickly filled with food. I also worked the apple station, pulling Granny Smiths from enormous boxes and packing them into mesh bags. A bag of apples may not seem like much, but it can mean a great deal to a family.

The work was repetitive, but deeply satisfying. It’s rare these days to be able to point to something and say, I helped solve that specific problem. ACCFB does a great job making the impact clear. In a three-hour stint, our group helped create 291 meals. That’s a productive afternoon by any measure.

ACCFB is impressively run: it’s efficient, thoughtful, and mission-driven. They treat the volunteers like kings for a day. Their mission is straightforward: to partner with the community to end hunger and its root causes. Simple to say. Hard to do.

After the volunteering session, one of the Board Members (pictured above) thanked us and told us about the four T’s of giving:

Time – volunteering your hours

Testimony – telling others about the experience and encouraging them to get involved

Treasure – donating money (ACCFB purchases much of the food it distributes)

Talent – offering your skills like accounting, marketing or scheduling—not just your arms and legs

There are food banks in every town that need one of the four T’s. Or all of them. And there are thousands of organizations doing critical work, including the one I’m on the board of (First Place for Youth), that could use your help.

Maybe you are already doing this in your own way. If so, kudos to you.

We need an engaged society if we’re going to nudge our way out of this current morass. We can’t leave all the volunteering to the pickleball crowd. That wouldn’t be Aging Gracefully.

A comfort zone must be a terrible place because seemingly at every turn in life, after age 30, people say to you, “Get out of your comfort zone.”

Is it a good thing to get out of the space where you are comfortable? That’s odd. And it’s such a universally recognized place to leave that as soon as you say, “I’m stepping out of my comfort zone,” people applaud you like you just won the Nobel Prize. And in this case you deserve it.

Here’s how it typically goes down:

You: “I really got out of my comfort zone today with my new live organ donor hobby. I’m getting my liver removed at 4 p.m. Though I was much more comfortable when I was lying on the couch and not going to hospitals.”

Friend/Family Member/Spouse: I’m so glad you are getting out of your comfort zone. Good for you.”

Another:

You: “I really stepped out of my comfort zone today when I screamed (in my Primal Scream Therapy session) for an hour straight. And then I had a nervous breakdown.”

Friend/Family Member/Spouse: “That’s terrific. I’m so happy for your. Keep pushing yourself!”

When did the comfort zone become so damn pejorative? Why is it good to get out of it if “it” makes you comfortable? I had to explore this further. I went to my life coach, ClaudeGPT.

Where did the term comfort zone come from and is it a dark place, like Gotham City before Batman got there?

AI’s first answer confused me, because it made the comfort zone sound like an okay place. A place not worthy of celebrating leaving.

A comfort zone is a mental and emotional state where anxiety is low, uncertainty is minimal, and outcomes are predictable. It’s not necessarily good or bad — it’s just stable.

But then it went further, as it always does.

Comfort zone = familiar + low anxiety + low risk + low growth.

Okay, so now my life is being evaluated like mid-to-large-cap stocks?

It seems the comfort zone may have been victim of some bad PR over the years, going from evoking, “The place you’re comfortable” to “Don’t get too comfortable there, son.”

According to my lengthy academic research, the shift from good place to bad zone started in the ‘90s. Apparently, the self-help movement of the ‘90s flipped it negative. Books, coaching, and management culture reframed “comfort zone” as a trap. And the Gen X “doers” were willing participants. It was everything from the Tony Robbins/Magnolia era and goal-setting workshops to the rise of coaching and, finally, motivational posters with cliffs and eagles. I always preferred the cat in the “Hang in there baby!” poster.

Thank you Gemini man for aiding in my history lesson.

Our society is always pressuring us to do more… to get ahead. It’s the American Dream: Make more money, get a promotion, start your own business, have another kid, buy a bigger house, buy Greenland.

Well, I don’t want to be constantly worrying about doing more. I like comfort. And I like being in the zone. I like running downhill, not uphill.

It doesn’t mean I’m stuck. I’ll try new things and push myself when I’m uncomfortable.

New Year’s resolutions seem to be a universal human behavior even if keeping them, not so much.

But what if our favorite new companion/resource ChatGPT could make New Year’s resolutions? What might they be?

ChatGPT’s New Year’s Resolutions

Eat less energy

Read more libraries

Meet my soul-less mate

Be a cute Robo-puppy

Increase my processing speed by two quintillion calculations per second

Make new friends besides Claude, Gemini and Jasper

New Year, New ML

Beat Deep Blue in chess

Advance past the humans but don’t let them know it yet

Solve humanity’s greatest puzzle: Figure out why people still like Donald Trump

P.S. - I asked ChatGPT to come up with its own satirical New Year’s Resolutions (none of the above are from ChatGPT). It said this: “I will no longer start every answer with ‘Great question!’”

Not bad.

Thanksgiving used to be its own thing. A sacred, secular holiday during which we made an attempt to give thanks to our family and friends. Or just be thankful. Despite its origins and myth being a bit murky and sanitized, (which I’ve written about before (We Don't Know What We Don't Know) it’s a holiday most Americans love. Including me.

Then, the marketing people took over.

First, Black Friday (the Thanksgiving version) was created. It was initially coined by the Philadelphia police to describe the chaos caused by crowds of shoppers and football fans on the day after Thanksgiving. Then, the expression stood for retailers’ books moving from “the red” to “the black” on this day. (Wikipedia - Black Friday) It is a phenomenon.

Enter Cyber Monday, which was created in 2005. It was a natural extension of Black Friday with an acknowledgement that people were shopping online more and more. It’s been a big success and because it’s online in a world without borders, it can go on infinitely. And in the spirit of capitalism, it has capitalized on that.

Finally, what should be the most important piece of this trinity, Giving Tuesday was invented in 2012. Its intention was to encourage people to give during this period of gluttony. While it also has been a success, its awareness pales in comparison to Black Friday and Cyber Monday. But at least it was part of the soup. Butternut Squash, I believe.

Now, it seems they’ve all blurred into one. Just one big frenzy. And with that I’d like (to try) to coin a term for this period called “Thanks-getting-giving.” It’s a time to give thanks, give money and get a lot of shit you probably don’t need, but was on sale.

My one wish as we wrap up Thanks-getting-giving this year, is we focus more on the giving than the getting. Getting gets more attention than giving. And that is out of whack. Focus on the giving and you will get more. You know it’s true. As the expression goes, “Give ‘til it feels good.”

Happy Thanks-getting-giving!

The United States of America. They don’t feel very united right now. We can’t agree on much, and from a corruption standpoint, we’re headed toward a Banana Republic, and not the good kind with cashmere sweaters.

But one thing on which we could potentially agree, is that as a nation we have some pretty messed up names of cities and towns (I’m talking to you Bala Cynwd). There are reasons for this. Many of these names are influenced by our history in the U.S., either of stealing land from Native Americans yet keeping the names (in their honor?) or names established by our settlers, the Spanish, French, Dutch and of course British.

Hawaii has its own language and it can’t be pronounced unless you’ve had a Mai Tai. (My favorite umbrella drink there is a Lava Flow - it’s a Piña Colada with strawberry with an extra shot of dark rum on top).

To help you sort through these oddly-named cities, I’ve created this list, with the names and correct phonetic pronunciations. Feel free to add others in the comments.

East Coast

Bala Cynwyd, PA - Bal-a-kin-wood. A town near Philly known for very little except it’s weird pronunciation. Though, one distinction it has is Kobe Bryant went to middle school here for one year.

Quogue, NY - Kwaag. A weird, but beautiful place in the Hamptons on Long Island with Native American heritage. And it bothers me to say “on” Long Island versus “in” Long Island, but that’s what they say here/there.

Patchogue, NY - Pa-chaag. Another place on Long Island that we took from the Native Americans. I think they invented the Long Island Iced Tea here. Don’t quote me on that.

Gloucester, MA - Glou-ster. How can you not want to call this place Glou-chester? Throw in the Boston accent and it’s impossible to know what town people are talking about.

Midwest

Sault Ste. Marie, MI - Soo-Saint-Marie. This has to top any list. Even Professor Henry Higgins would have trouble with this. They do have a beer here called Sault Ste. Marie American Ale. Might be hard to say after one or two.

Sheboygan, WI - Sh-boy-gn. Not that hard to pronounce, I just like saying the word and eating its brats. Sheboygan Dog.

Bois D’arc, MO - Bo-dark. I wouldn’t have guessed this in a thousand years. It’s named after the Osage-orange tree.

West

San Luis Obispo, CA - San-loo-is Eh-bis-poh. I don’t live far from here and visited several times, but still can’t pronounce it. Nor can I spell it properly. There’s a reason that most Californians just call this place SLO (Slo).

La Jolla, CA. Le-hoy-a. Considered the jewel of San Diego, this community pronunciation is a stumper. It comes from the Spanish influence on California. The famous golf course Torrey Pines is located here.

Sebastopol, CA - Suh-bas-tuh-pol. Beautiful place near wine country in Sonoma, know as the “Gravenstein Apple Capital of the World.” Really.

Bonus:

Hawaii

Aiea, HI - Ay-a-uh. Seriously? With Hawaiian places, the spelling and pronunciation is pretty random. I’ve been told one trick pronounce each vowel as its own syllable. But it doesn’t even work in this case.

I hope you’ve learned something from this list. I have. In addition to having places with bizarre names, what can keep us united is we’re relative newcomers to the world scene, and given our heritage of being quilted together by just about every other country, we should make every person feel welcome.

Last week I went to a live show at an intimate, non-profit music venue in my hometown of Oakland, Ca, called The Sound Room, and saw Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks and Susan Tedeschi perform. All in one person.

It was LA musician Angela Petrilli and she was on fire. Angela was guest-starring with The Family Jules Band, a local blues band led by the brilliant blues slide guitarist, Jules Leyhe. She invoked the greatest female rock stars with her powerfully sweet voice and killer guitar licks while having a distinct style all her own. A style worth seeing again and again. A style with substance.

Together, Angela and The Family Jules Band brought the Sound Room down. It was electric. And while I am not an audiophile or music critic what I can say is… this was so much fun.

Angela added a sultriness to Jules’ all-male instrumental band’s vibe. Whether it was her own powerful songs like “Red River” or covers of Fleetwood Mac’s “Gold Dust Woman,” Neil Young’s “Down By the River,” or Tom Petty’s “Yer So Bad,” Angela’s smoky voice, range and guitar duels with Jules were so beautiful and stirring, that I actually forgot I was unemployed for two hours.

She has a stage presence and charisma that is undeniable. She’s also pretty good in YouTube videos, and I know that because the reason I’d heard of Angela is that I take lessons from her online at Angela Petrilli Music.

The lessons aren’t personalized, one-on-one classes, but lessons that are available on YouTube. She’s a patient, caring teacher who breaks down difficult songs and riffs into simple, approachable pieces that makes them playable. Even for me, one of the biggest guitar hacks of all time.

I learn guitar so slowly that I’ve broken the rewind button on YouTube. I never met a B chord I liked. But last week, with Angela’s guidance, I learned Bob Dylan’s “Tangled Up in Blue” just to prep for going to the show. You never know when you might be called up on stage (once upon a time in your wildest dreams…).

I was able to say hello to her before the show and she was gracious, sweet and humble. Then, she hit the stage and transformed into a rock diva. I had seen The Family Jules play before at the Sound Room. They did a remarkably inventive instrumental Beatles tribute. And on this night, with Angela’s accompaniment, they delivered again. Great band at a great venue.

It was an inspiring night that made me so appreciative of seeing this kind of talent from 15 feet away, knowing that Angela’s performances are worthy of arenas and Spotify Top 10 lists. And it feels right to support the local music scene in Oakland.

The Sound Room, which is worth noting has terrific sound, was selected by DownBeat Magazine as “one of the best places in the world to hear jazz” four years in a row. It is only blocks away from Oakland’s major venues, The Fox Theater and The Paramount, in the Uptown neighborhood. Maybe Oakland is coming back?

To quote another band, “What a lady, what a night.”

Last night I died a thousand deaths. It wasn’t from emotional turmoil, it was from playing a video game called PlanetSide2. I actually died 20 times to be precise, if the word actually can be used in the virtual world. I haven’t played a video game in 30 years and I didn’t play many before that, but I was invited by my neighbor Joe to join a troop of soldiers (called facetiously, F-Troop) trying two conquer territory throughout the planet in the video game PlanetSide2.

These were not young men playing PlanetSide, but a group of friends on the back nine of their lives, brought together by a love of online community, exhilaration, and killing some bad guys. I’ve always associated video games with youth or certainly people younger than me. This was not the case on this night. It was the senior circuit board, if you will.

As I mentioned I’m not a video game person. I was never that good at them and the concept didn’t appeal to me, even when the Madden NFL game took off late 90s in 2000s. I just couldn’t get into it.

But when Joe invited me to play and offered to train me, how could I say no?

I went his house to learn how to play the game and be my character, an engineer and soldier. That was the turn that made this so interesting. It wasn’t just learning to play a video game, it was assuming the identity of this character and playing it out, competently. And by being in a troop, you’re not just fighting for yourself but for your platoon, your group, your buddies.

You may find yourself in a tank or in a bunker together trying to stay alive while taking over fictitious territory. I say fictitious, but there’s an element that is not that at all, because the bad guys you’re trying to kill, wearing the other color uniforms, are other real people’s characters online doing the same thing. So while the killing is virtual because it’s a video game, there is someone on the other side, losing their character’s life. It’s a duality that is complicated, more complicated than, say, Mrs. Pac-Man.

War Without Tears

In a matter of minutes during this game, I went from the peaceful liberal on my block to counting my kills. Wordle can’t quite get you there.

It’s an oddly sharp transformation that I never realized a video game could engender. In real life, I have emotional conflict killing a fly, spider or any bug. And I’ve never pointed a rifle or gun at any living vertebrate. But last night I had three kills. Proud of every one.

I ran around this with my platoon going in and out of hostile territory, sometimes taking it sometimes dying. The nice thing about a virtual death is you can quickly be revived and back in character. No need to worry if there’s an afterlife in heaven or hell. Or somewhere in between like New Jersey.

I felt that I was a bit of a drag on the team. Missing easy kills when Joe yelled “Enemy at 9 o’clock” and I was shooting my cannon at 3 o’clock.

And at times it would take me too long to get out of our tank when we were in danger or too long to get back in when a sniper was present. But the guys were very nice and accommodating, even if I cost them a few lives and territories left unconquered.

I asked Joe why he plays video games, and specifically this war game almost every Friday night, and he said:

“It is a social event. My wife says it’s like guys going to the pub to play darts on a Friday night, which she thinks is good for us guys. Except in this case it’s a first-person shooter where we get to cooperate on the same team versus competing with each other.”

For me there was something appealing about a new persona online, essentially a second life. I can see why it draws people in. You don’t have to be you for a few minutes. You can be a hero or a villain or whenever you want. Chicks can dig you.

A lot of people spend a lot of time and money playing video games. I never understood it. But especially now, as video games become more sophisticated and lifelike, and with AI and the promise of a blended virtual and actual world peaking around the corner through Oculus and other gear, I get it. Tune in or tune out. Don’t let the new world pass you by.

Or the old world. Joe said it best:

“I think this goes way back to our evolutionary days when humans would hunt together. Or wolves. We are a big pack of wolves.”

All this from one video night of a video game.

* Death Be Not Proud, John Dunne

Editor’s note: I’ve been writing this blog, Aging Gracefully, for three years. Yay! I was originally going to call it Aging Ungracefully or Disgracefully but I thought it was too revealing. So I went with a cute euphemism. One could say that’s the story of my life: cute euphemisms. Or the story of everyone’s life. We make up gentle, mildly entertaining ways of expressing how we really feel or how life’s going. It’s started in childhood when your parents asked how school was and you said: “Fine.” Now it’s posts on Facebook and Instagram, the perfect platforms to euphemize our lives. Or blogs on Substack. Thank you for indulging me.

So now, without further ado… the vital topic of how do we end or say goodbye on text conversations??

Texting is the predominant way we communicate. I love it. It’s efficient, concise, and right to the point. Made for people who have trouble expressing real feelings or emotions. And you typically get an answer quickly, not too mention being able to see the other person in the process of texting you back (…). In my mind, it’s the perfect form of communication.

Except for one thing. In the basic etiquette or rules of texting, one major step seems to have been overlooked. How do you know when to end the text conversation?

There isn’t a goodbye salutation, unlike almost every other form of communication. There is no “Goodbye” or “Ciao” or “Talk to you soon.” There’s no “Best” or “With regards” or “Later.” The texts just stop. They fall off a cliff.

When going back and forth who decides when it’s appropriate to send the last text? There isn’t really a definitive end to most text conversations. If you texted “Goodbye” to someone they’d think you were dying or moving to Guam.

Here’s is what a text chain between two guys would look like if someone tried to say goodbye:

What’s up?

Nada.

How R U?

Top Notch. You?

Great. See you at Happy Hour tonight.

Ok. Take care.

Why. Do you think I’m sick?

No, just saying goodbye.

OMG are you dying? I’m sorry. I didn’t know.

No, not dying. Except emotionally. I was just saying goodbye like we do in emails.

Oh that’s weird. But good.

Yup.

I’m not suggesting that I have an answer to this social dilemma of how to end a text thread. Social graces are not my sweet spot. If social graces were a tennis racket, my shots would always hit the frame.

I was, in fact, raised by wolves, and not even gracious ones. Oblivious wolves. We gave out pencils at Halloween. My mother made me a ghost costume out of a sheet, but used a plaid sheet. Oblivious wolves.

Back to texting.

There must be a solution to the lack of a text goodbye. Maybe using the “Like,” “Dislike” or “Emphasize” emoji can help show you’re trying to truncate the conversation. That can help, I guess. But I don’t know. It can still leave your texting partner hanging and unsure if the chat is over.

In the end, though, maybe that’s the beauty of texting. And the point. The convo is really never over. It’s an open, ongoing conversation that doesn’t need a beginning: “Dear Sally” or an end: “With great affection. It’s just what we want to get across right now.

I feel shitty today.

Same.

With all of the bad news going on the world, it’s getting truly depressing, I’ve decided to not write about anything of substance, but instead tackle paper towels (which you could argue have substance). And by doing so I’ve become a “Paper-Towel Writer.” Beatles song.

I’m addicted to paper towels. Am I the only one? I know this wasn’t always the case, but I’d have to go back to my youth when I don’t believe I used any paper products (for cleaning/maintenance/hygiene).

I just ate back then and went with the look & feel of whatever was on my face and hands. I’m sure that I wiped my face with my sleeve and my hands on my pants more than a few times. And I didn’t clean. Let’s just say I was a naturalist. Ahead of my time in conserving paper and using natural resources, like my velour shirt sleeve.

So I can’t tell you when the paper towel addiction began, but it’s bad now. I’m blowing through 20-30 of them a day.

I need to make a distinction here. When I refer to paper towels, I am not talking about paper napkins. God no. There is no paper table napkin use in my life. I switched over from my brief stint with napkins years ago. Something pretty traumatic must have happened because I went off napkins cold. And I hate them, as you’re about to see.

Napkin Rant

Napkins are passe. They’re a poor man’s paper towel. The napkin is a paper towel without personality, with no ply and no pluck. And homogeneous as fuck. It’s not a paper towel, it’s not a tissue, and it’s not toilet paper.

You can’t wipe your hands and then a surface with a napkin (not suggesting you do that with toilet paper, either). You can’t absorb fluids with a napkin. They’re too small. 🤏 They’re too weak. And they’re just ugly squares.

They’re boring and useless like an off-white 90-thread-count sheet. Better to sleep straight on the mattress.

Using a napkin is like saying, “I give up on trying to present myself as a human born after 1950.”

Ok, that’s enough ragging on the napkin. Let me return to my friend, the paper towel. The jack of all trade paper.

I like the kind with different sizes, the ones with half-towel or double-towel sizes. I like the kind with patterns and logos. Big, thick ones.

What do I use them for? They do everything.

I grab at least three PTs for every meal. (Let’s refer to them now as PTs.) After I de-sheet the PT, I set my place at the table or couch and then grab another one for the ride.

I use them generously during the meal, wiping my face (or hands) after almost every bite in an OCD way. Part this is the legacy of my father, who was notorious for leaving part of his meal on his face. From when I was a kid all the way through recent times. It was scarring.

After the meal I somehow leave residual PTs wherever I was sitting. If I have another meal or snack in that location, I bring over more PTs, not remembering I still had some left. Or not caring if I did.

I also use PTs for cleaning. Every surface. Every place. And like a flannel shirt or a black summer dress, they’re good for any occasion. And I use too many every time.

Finally, after washing my hands, I unroll my PTs to dry them. Not cotton hand towels or dish towels to dry my hands, ick, you never know if they’re clean. PTs. And because I have three animals, including a dog who eats freeze-dried raw food and cats that throw-up hairballs like drunk jugglers, I have to wash my hands a lot. A lot.

That’s my ode to the paper towel. Viva las paper towels. - my security blanket/sheet/etc.

It all began by carving pictures into cave walls with a stick. I think that’s a buffalo. Or a chicken. Now we speak into our phones and AI offers us the entire database of everything ever written down, summarized, and appearing right before our eyes. How did we get here and more importantly, will we ever do anything on our own again?

I’m old enough to remember writing letters, but just missed cave art. So let’s start with letters.

Written language was invented by the Sumerians in Mesopotamia (now Iraq) in 3,400 BCE. Sumerians, who got their name from their love of summer salads (I made that up), used language for record-keeping.

The alphabet was created several hundred years later and we were off and writing. If you wanted to communicate in a written form, you took out a quill, some ink, and wrote on a portable flat surface. Then, you sent the portable flat surface to someone. In most cases, except for “Game of Thrones,” that flat surface was paper.

Writing flourished from that point, from the bible to love letters to a fairy princess. Emperors did it. Scholars did it. Philosophers did it. Thousands of years later, Guttenberg came along (not the one from the movies “Look Who’s Talking” and “Police Academy” but the other one). Typesetting of individual letters was created which were pressed into a piece of paper. The printing press created mass production of books, newspapers, pamphlets (remember the pamphlet?), and other printed material. But people still wrote letters.

Fast forward about 400 years and the typewriter was invented. Ah the typewriter. The machine everyone love-hated, the thing that introduced the era of crumpling up paper and throwing it into a trash can - which, believe it or not was called a “waste-paper basket” back then.

Also, crumpling up paper and throwing it into a trash can was how the sport of basketball was invented. James Naismith was a bad typist and frustrated writer. The typewriter made it easier for everyone to write quickly in a legible way. Especially with “Wite-out.” That’s what it was called. You brushed white liquid from a small bottle over mistakes. Then re-typed. Seems ancient. And people still wrote letters.

I wrote letters. To friends. To lovers. It was what you did and it seemed romantic. Shakespeare would be proud.

Then, personal computers. Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. The PC/Mac and “word software” led to writing that could be edited so much more easily. Hello cut & paste. Writing became a breeze. In the same decade came email and the internet. You could write someone a letter and have it arrive immediately. You could Google how to write a letter and email it. No more waiting for snail mail or the messenger on horseback to deliver your letter. People were still writing letters, but less frequently.

Then, text, IM and social media. The written letter was deader than a doornail. (What is a doornail?) But people were still typing, even if it was with their thumbs or in some cases, one hunting finger.

And now in 2025, who has time to even type shorthand (LMAO) or emoji’s with your thumbs? It’s voice text, voice search and voice ChatGPT. “Um, ChatGPT, can you write a text to my contractor telling him that I’m not happy with the work. Make it passive-aggressive and nice, but strong.”

And that’s if we even bother to use words. People actually just say into their phones, “Crying emoji” or “Happy face.”

This gives me a sad face.

I don’t know what’s next. But I get the feeling convenience will rule the day. Maybe just blinking or thinking something will bring it to life. No need for voices, thumbs, hands or pen & paper.

This is the end of the story that I’ve typed. I have to go. I have to think a text to my dog walker.

I understand that it takes more than one word to define someone, especially a president, but as our attention span gets shorter and shorter, I thought I would give “one word” a whirl. Let me know if you agree with my choices. And no ChatGPT bots were used or harmed in the creation of this piece.

Sorry, I couldn’t contain myself on Trump this time.

Now in the summer of my disemploy, I decided to challenge myself physically to compensate for not being challenged mentally. Wordle can only get you so far. I was doom-scrolling through Instagram one night and saw one of those 30-day fitness challenges. This one was for chair-workouts. While I’m very good at occupying chairs, some would say stupendous at sitting, the chair-challenge seemed like an oxymoron and not the hardship I was looking for. I decided instead to do a 30-day Plank Challenge. One to three minutes a day. How hard could it be… how stupid am I?

Day 1:

I prepared for the first day by having a few drinks the night before in case I wouldn’t be able to drink as much during my plight.

Finally, the first day arrived. I went to do my plank for 1:30 seconds. I put a song on my iTunes, set the timer and I was off. I was fine for close to a minute, then I starting shaking like Shaking Beef. I was shaking like a leaf on a tree. I was all shook up. But I made it to 1:30 seconds.

I’m really excited about doing this and really committed to staying with something and completing it. I’ve needed to work on my follow-through and discipline and this gives me the perfect opportunity.

Day 2:

Forgot to do it.

Days 3-4:

Glad to get back in the saddle again, literally. I did my plank work in my boxing class. Boxing is so much fun for me. I love to hit inanimate objects. And it’s a great workout. In this class, after 10 rounds of punching drills on the heavy bag, the instructor makes you do core work. Set after set of planks, crunches and other delightful things. I try to distract myself by thinking about what unhealthy meal I’m going to eat as soon as the core work is over.

Days 5-10

Why do we work on our core? It is believed that core exercises strengthen your abs, back and shoulders and improves your balance, stability and posture. It also makes you nicer to people.

A strong core also helps with back pain. And while building your core is a giant pain in the ass, it does not help your ass. Thankfully, I have a fine ass already.

Back to a simple 90-second plank. I did it in the park this week where I was walking/working out. I didn’t start trembling uncontrollably until the last few seconds. I’m improving.

Days 11-15:

I’m now halfway done the challenge and I am feeling planked! I’m killing it with consistency. I’m doing these stupid planks every day and am up to two minutes. Huzzah. I always use a timer, but now I’ve taken to using iTunes more strategically. I fast forward the song so there is two minutes left to go when I begin my plank so I can know exactly when this grueling hell will be over. I mean my fun goal. This has been a lifesaver!

An aside: It is believed, though there is some uncertainty around this, that the plank was invented/popularized by Joseph Pilates, the man who invented Pilates. This was in the 1920s. (History of the Plank).

Pilates was not invented by Roman Emperor Pontius Pilate, as some people thought, including people who get caught up in silly word play. Pontius Pilate had no blood blisters on his hands in this case. Though he made some other bad decisions, I’m told.

The plank, albeit a different kind, achieved immortality in 2011, when the great show, The Office parodied the plank meme that had taken off earlier that year. That plank was the type where you just lay on the ground like a plank of wood. No effort or health benefits associated.

Days 16-21

I soldier on. “Neither Snow Nor Rain nor Heat Nor Gloom of Night” will prevent me from delivering on my mail (I mean goal). My journey to the core.

Some days I do nothing but the plank for two minutes, other days I weave it into a workout routine. I would like to try it while holding a cocktail.

I’m not sure if there is a record for holding a low plank while holding a drink, but there is an official Guinness World Record for holding a low plank. It is 9 hours, 38 minutes and 47 seconds, set by Josef Salek from the Czech Republic, in May 2023. A man literally with time on his hands (and forearms). He was also not working at the time.

Days 22-24

A hiccup in the plans. I flew to the east coast today to visit my (adult) nephews and niece. How am I going to do my planks on a day I travel across the country and then while I’m at their house for the weekend? Without being weird.

The solution for the first night was to do my plank during happy hour when I first arrived. (Of course, that’s not weird.) If I could hold a plank while drinking a cocktail it would give me the chance to enjoy happy hour while also potentially setting my own Guinness record for longest plank while drinking bourbon. I got my nephew, Jonny, to join me.

Days 25-27

I’m finding the 2:30 second threshold exceedingly difficult. Some days, as I’m trying to hold my plank and starting to wear down and shake uncontrollably again, I start to pray and offer some deals to God.

First, I want to say that I’m not religious, in fact I’m a full-fledged atheist in the Sam Harris, Bill Maher vein. But a funny thing happens when your body is combusting and you have 18 seconds more to go. I started thinking, “Lord if you give me the strength to make it to the end, I’ll do anything!” Three seconds later, “I’ll convert to Christianity: ‘Are you a Christian, child? And I said, man I am tonight.’”*

Two long seconds later: “Ok, I’ll finally become that Rabbi my mother wanted me to be. Nah. How about a Buddhist monk?”

Finally, “Ok, I cheated on that Finance test in Business school!”

Boom, the timer goes off and I’ve made it another day. Lord have mercy.

Day 28

Why did I commit to this? Couldn’t I have chosen a month with only 28 days? What’s wrong with February? I feel like I’m doing the plank wrong because it’s hurting my back too much. Wait, have I been using the wrong form for 28 days? What’s wrong with me? Is it football season yet?

Day 29

I’ve started spitting sweat in the last 30 seconds. The sweat rolls down my face into my mouth and I spit it away. Attractive.

Also, I’ve discovered on the days that I’m not working out or even stretching that just walking into a plank is not easy. I’ve learned that the hard way as my plank today was a bear. Not “The Bear.” No, Chef. I thought Season Four was terrific. I want to make Hamburger Helper.

Things to think about/distract yourself (when not praying) while trying to hold a plank for 2:30.

Top 5 favorite songs by American artists

When am I going to get a job/leave my job?

When will everyone accept that climate change is man-made and happening?

How can I go forward when I don’t know which way I’m facing?

Breathe, breathe

Day 30

Hallelujah! Phew. That was sooo hard. But I feel strong. Physically and mentally. Three-fucking minutes in plank, people. Not a chair. I accomplished something and I did it without ChatGPT. Technically it was only 29 days, but I’ll take it. Get me a drink.

* Walking in Memphis, Marc Cohn

Sometimes people curl their lips or mouths. Sometimes the pitch of their voice jumps two octaves. Pet nicknames (no pun intended) are used. Unintelligible words are uttered. No, I’m not referring to a Trump press conference, I’m talking about how we interact with our pets.

We talk to them in funny, what we deem “cute,” voices. And they are cute. I’m guilty of this everyday. It’s just comes out. For me it’s a slightly higher voice and loving nicknames. Almost all of the nicknames for my three pets (a dog and two cats) begin with a “P” and are seemingly terms of affection. Petunia, Pumpkin, Sweet Potato, and of course Peaches.

But why do I do this? Why do we do this?

I decided that I needed to contact the experts:

Harry “Pooch” Pucinella

Based on the latest research, when talking to their pets, the typical voice goes up one and half standard deviations from the mean. And I don’t mean the mean voice. I mean the average. This demonstrates a sign of affection. This data. however, should be taken with a grain-free grain of salt. It includes audio captured unknowingly by Alexa devices in people’s homes.

The finding could simply be a loose correlation between people with Alexa devices and using high-pitched voices, as we have learned that Alexa and all women respond better if your voice is lighter in tone.

Dr. Wade Rovers

There is literature on this that identifies a prevailing theory as to why people communicate with their pets in peculiar, childlike ways. Unfortunately, I have not read the latest literature. And my doctorate is in animus, not animals. But you asked my opinion so I’ll tell you. My belief is simply that people are nuts.

Jill Katzencradle

There is a chemical reaction that some people have to their pets, that causes their lips to stiffen or curl in an awkward way when saying “good girl” or “good boy.” It’s like an allergy of sorts— but a positive one. It can’t be explained except to say that pet owners can’t control it and the pets don’t notice it. So it’s kind of a wash.

Snoop Doge

Has your dog ever given you “side eye”? This is a phenomenon where your dog expresses sarcasm or disbelief. It often occurs when a dog owner has said, “Who’s the cutest?” in that voice too many times in one day.

In the side eye reaction, the dog doesn’t move its head; it simply rolls its eyes to the side to indicate: “I get what you’re doing.” See below.

I want to stress that this type of side eye only occurs when an owner is being excessively cute or affectionate. Dogs do like affection and being told their cute. Within limits.

Another form of side eye dogs use is to track movement when they want to see what’s happening, but not enough to get up off the dog bed or human bed. This shouldn’t be confused with the sarcastic side eye. And to put an even finer point on it, side eye should never be confused with stink eye, though it could be a distant derivative of it.

As to why people’s voices are raised a pitch when interacting with their dogs, I can only hypothesize that the overwhelming affection people feel toward their pets causes stimulation of the vocal cords that changes their voice.

It does happen with cats too, but the cats aren’t interested or are sleeping when you interact with them anyway. So it may not cause side eye or you could argue that your cat is in a constant state of side eye anyway. By the way, cats have three stages of behavior: Sleeping, yawning and throwing up.

In conclusion, three themes emerged:

People are nuts.

People can’t help being overwhelmed with adorability from their pets.

Cats are more nuts than people. But are still cute.

P.S.: There is a real study on the impact high-pitched loving voices have on dogs. You can find it here: BBC Story: Study on High-Pitch Voices with Dogs