4/10/25

Lattes & Loitering, Episode 52: A New Book (with a twist)




It started, as these things often do, with a book.


Not a new book, exactly—just new to me. One of those titles that practically taps you on the shoulder from across the digital aisle:

13 Things Mentally Strong People Don’t Do.


Catchy, right?

Enough to make me hover over the “Buy Now” button for a moment.


But then I pictured it—the sorting facility, the barcode scanner, the box making its journey across three states and four highways just so I could sit in a café and feel slightly more emotionally fortified. And I thought: maybe not.


So I let the AI do the lifting.


In a few minutes, I had a clean, thoughtful summary. A clickable mind map. A podcast voiced by two eerily calm digital humans, swapping insights over a topic they technically can’t feel.


And honestly?

It was enough.


I didn’t burn any fuel. I didn’t wait three days. I didn’t add another object to the great domestic archive of unread personal development literature.


I got what I came for. And then I lingered.


Because sometimes strength isn’t about doing more.

Sometimes it’s about knowing when not to.


And loitering with a latte, apparently, still makes the cut.


Here's some clickable stuff:

 PDF summary 

 Simulated podcast



Mind map of '13 Things'



Oh, and speaking of loitering:





4/7/25

Red Hats, Cold Feet







Something new is brewing.




I’ve started work on an animated cartoon—limited animation, to be honest. We’re talking slow blinks, head tilts, awkward shuffles. The kind of movement that mirrors the mental gymnastics of a man caught in a moral midlife crisis.




His name is MAGA Mike.




He’s a dyed-in-the-flannel Republican. Trump voter. Used to shout at the TV. Used to own more flags than shirts. But now… something’s shifting. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But enough that you can see it in his eyes.




The man’s starting to wonder.




The cartoon is satire, yes—but it’s not a hit job. It’s a portrait. A study in contradiction. A bit of absurdity laced with humanity, because that’s the most honest way I know to explore what’s happening in the bones of this country.




Mike is fictional. But his story? It’s everywhere.




The project will grow slowly, the way real doubt does. A still photo is the one above. The voice, the pacing, the awkward pauses—they’ll come. This is my attempt to speak to a fracture in our collective story using the only tools I’ve got: humor, pixels, and a deep love for asking inconvenient questions.