Author Archives: jdtharp

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Dick measuring veterans. I know, that’s a bold statement to say anything other than “thank you for your service,” but hear me out. I’ve spent the majority of my adult life working with active duty soldiers and a heavy helping of veterans who have opted to come back to work as civilian employees. The one thing that most perplexes me about the veteran community is the incessant dick measuring – You’re not a “real” veteran unless you were in combat, or this one is a better veteran than that one because “he only went to Afghanistan twice and I went to Iraq three times.” As an outside observer who honestly indifferent about the outcome of most “best veteran contests,” it really feels like the weirdest thing to try making hay over. The military is a big place and expecting everyone who raised their hand to have the same experience across a span of decades is simply ridiculous on its face. 

2. Cats. Ivy has been here at the house for a little over a month now. We tried the basic slow introduction and did well right up until we got to the last bit – letting everyone roam free. Ivy is determined that Cordy and Anya exist to be chased. In turn, they have mostly holed up under my bed any time Ivy is on the loose. What I seem to have created is a two-shift situation where Ivy is free to move about the place from about 5AM – 5PM and then gets relegated back to her kitted out bathroom while Anya and Cordy take over the house from 5PM to 5AM. It’s not ideal and absolutely doesn’t feel like a situation I’m going to be able or willing to keep up with indefinitely. Just how long I’m going to let it run, though, remains the uncertain variable. I don’t need them to be the best of friends, but I do need them to eventually coexist as at least disinterested parties.

3. The Islamic State. It’s hard to imagine a stratagem less likely to engender support for your cause than launching a terror attack on Taylor Swift in concert. I assume that ISIS and its slack jawed religio-fascist followers simply don’t grasp the magnetic force that woman holds over millions of devoted fans, who would simply demand that the western world’s governments scourge the wanna-be caliphate from the face of the earth if they hurt a single blonde hair on Dr. Swift’s enchanted head.

Is the juice still worth the squeeze…

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I’m tired. I thought when I cut back the posting to twice a week I might catch my breath. Maybe I have. Maybe the writing is even just a touch better and more cogent than it was when I was trying to churn out five a week. The fact remains that I’m tired. I’m tired of shouting into the electronic void. I’m tired of feeling like an increasingly isolated voice of sanity in a world determined to spin violently off the rails and drown in an ocean of screeching religious, social, political, and economic extremists. American “Christians” collectively losing their shit after entirely missing the point of the Olympic opening ceremonies leaves me wondering if it’s even worth trying to be anything other than a partisan wackjob. Is there even room for a voice that isn’t doing its damndest to be way out on the extremes? 

Maybe I’m just tired of giving a shit at all about forces operating well beyond my span of control or influence. Is it time to hunker down, circle the wagons, and focus on the thing on which I can exert some influence? After 4,043 posts, I’m not sure keeping on with this is the right answer. I’m not sure it’s doing much beyond creating its own little echo chamber. Sometimes I wonder if keeping on my soapbox isn’t, in fact, actively leaving me worse overall than I’d be if I just let the world’s fuckery roll past and around rather than sitting with it long enough to write down a few paragraphs of thoughts on the topic of the week.

I expect there’s not much that will ever stop me from writing, but maybe it’s time to go all the way back to basics. Maybe it’s time that I’m writing exclusively for myself without even the slightest consideration of an audience ever having eyes on it. That’s the kind of thing that doesn’t feed the ego, but it’s possible that might not be such a bad thing either. 

As I sit here tapping this out, I’m part conflicted, part disenchanted, part disappointed, part disgusted, and perhaps just a touch irrationally optimistic that there’s a chance we can pull up before burring the whole American experiment nose first into the ground at a high rate of speed. If we can’t, I don’t know that I have it in me to keep plastering over the wreckage with cynical commentary week after week. 

This isn’t an announcement or even a decision to stop so much as it’s a recognition that at some point I may just throw up my hands and walk away in disgust. At some point it all just becomes too absurd to carry on as if we haven’t entered a truly bizarre era in history. On the other hand, it’s the sort of thing that means having an inexhaustible supply of things to write about or comment on… so color me conflicted. 

Again with the Great Plague…

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Last week, I suffered through my second round of the Great Plague. This iteration of COVID wasn’t as awful as the one that knocked me on my ass last fall, but all the same it’s still not something I’d recommend for someone looking to have a good time.

The butchers bill for this round of sickness seems to have been the loss of two weekends and lots of hacking and wheezing and generally stuffiness. I did have an easier time getting my hands on antiviral meds, which means I got to start them on day 2 of symptoms instead of day 5. I assume that has something to do with how quickly the worst of the symptoms dissipated. 

I’m still a touch congested and I certainly get played out a lot faster than I did before getting sick (again). I’m happily testing negative now and otherwise seem to be on the mend. I can’t help but reflect that these bugs were a whole lot easier to avoid when I was allowed to embrace my inner hermit and everyone was legally required to stay at least six feet away from me. In my heart of hearts, I’ll always kind of miss those halcyon days of the early pandemic before we knew what we were up against and staying home was the order of the day. 

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Opportunity. I think I was hit on while shopping for books at one of my favorite used and antiquarian shops last week. As I was looking through stacks of stuff deep in the bowels of the place. A 30-something blonde, well proportioned, with a pixie cut appears at my elbow. “Excuse me,” she cuts into my browsing. “Do you know if they accept credit cards here,” she asks. I’m sure I mumbled something confirming they did without more than glancing up from whatever book about the age of fighting sail I was considering. But she hovered there. Expectantly? Maybe waiting for me to pick up the thread? I have no idea. I didn’t even consider the possibility until 8 hours later when I was safely back home with my feet up for the evening. Chalk that up to a potential missed opportunity.

2. Reengaging. Last week while I was enjoying my traditional early July vacation, I was largely disengaged. I was disengaged from current events, from people, from writing, from just about everything except tending the house and animals and occasionally dipping up the road for some carryout. Honestly it was delightful. Then, as it does, this week came trundling along and required me to reengage with the world and everything has basically been awful ever since. There’s a lesson somewhere in there, I’m sure. 

3. Meetings. Yesterday, I sat in an in-person meeting for the first time in at least a year if not more. Sitting in a conference room with 25 or 30 other people felt, in a word, archaic. It was like engaging in a pantomime from some bygone era. An old fashioned meeting happens so rarely that for the first 30 minutes it was almost an entertaining novelty. As that novelty wore away, though, it was impossible to forget that each of those 30 people was a potential plague carrier and represented more people than you’ve been around in a single room in months if not years. I’m not saying there’s never a role for these in person meetings, but if we can hold them to no more than one a year, I think that would be entirely sufficient. 

Three is enough…

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By now, I suppose everyone who’s interest already knows that I added a 3rd cat to the list of critters living here on the homestead. Ivy is a sweet, approximately one year old calico female who arrived here by way of the Chesapeake Feline Association, who are effectively neighbors to me here on the bank of the Elk River. They’re a small team doing good work and I was happy to be able to be a small part of it. 

As I’m writing this, Ivy has been home with us for about three and a half days now. She’s briefly met Jorah and Anya at the door to her “safe room,” but hasn’t shown much (if any) interest in checking out the rest of the house yet and seems content to hang out in the guest bathroom for the time being. I’m doing my best to remember that time really isn’t a factor here and it takes as long as it takes to get everyone comfortable with this new arrangement.

Aside from a bit more outlay for food and the inevitable increase in vet bills, tending to three cats instead of two doesn’t feel like it’s adding too much workload at this point. I expect it will become even easier once we get everyone integrated and don’t have to maintain separate feeding, watering, and litter operations. I’m not going to speculate on how long that may take.

I’ve often joked that I’ve reached carrying capacity in the past. Now with five furry and scaled mouths to feed, I really mean it. Five is the absolute upper limit… unless I come into a lot of money and can hire staff, of course. Then all bets are off.

In any case, I’m pleased as punch to have a new member of the family settling in… but I’ll be well and truly thrilled when we get past the awkward introductory stage and can all start living together. 

One thirty down and I have some thoughts…

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It’s been just about a year since I made the conscious decision to get my weight down towards something that wouldn’t trigger such a serious lecture every time I walked into a doctor’s office. Realizing that I was, in fact, both destructible and well past the demographic definition of middle-age gave me a level of motivation I’d never had before. Score one for the motivating power of fear and self-preservation. 

In any case, dropping 130 pounds over the last year hasn’t exactly been an adventure. I’m agitated every day about the foods – and lifestyle – I had to give up in order to achieve what would be easy to assume was purely a vanity exercise. I won’t pretend I don’t have my vanities, but none of them have ever been tied to my appearance, which is probably for the best.

I’m sure when I wander back to my doctor for my next scheduled checkup, he’ll make all the appropriate approving noises. My most recent bloodwork came back with significantly marked improvements over its historic baseline. Even if we haven’t gotten to the root causes of what was causing my heart to ramp up to a sprint of its own accord, it’s hard to argue against my innards being healthier than they were a year ago. 

What no one mentioned as they encouraged me through this process, though, was all the minor annoyances that would accompany this process. I just did my second cull of the clothes hanging in my closet and came to the unhappy realization that I only have eight shirts and two pair of pants that fit now. The rest – some of my favorite shirts mind you – are now comically oversized on my new frame. 

I’m going to have to take some time during this little Independence Week vacation for clothes shopping. I spent time doing that already this spring. This means I’ve spent more time shopping for clothes in the last three months than I have in the last three years. In fact, it will probably account for more time than I’ve spent shopping in the last decade.

I used to know the brands I liked and the appropriate sizes. It was easy enough finding them online and reordering as needed. Now, every damned shirt is a roll of the dice. It’s an enormous pain in the ass and feels a little bit like adding insult to injury. Sure, I’ll do it because wandering around naked is frowned upon by western civilization (and winter is coming), but there’s no power in heaven or earth than can make me enjoy the process. 

It’s been a very strange year…

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It’s just a few days shy of the one-year anniversary of experiencing the still unexplained tachycardia that started me down what feels like a very long and often unfulfilling series of medical appointments and major life changes. As June 28th looms larger on the horizon, I’m still not sure what to make of the experience. Maybe it’s not surprising to anyone else but learning that I am not actually indestructible came as something of an unwelcome surprise. 

I won’t say that I ever considered myself particularly healthy, but I always felt robust and strong as a bull moose. I rarely gave much thought to my physical limits. This experience has forced me to confront both human fragility and the illusion of invincibility I once held. Every medical appointment since has been a reminder of my body’s unpredictability, and despite numerous tests and consultations, the cause of my tachycardia remains elusive. This uncertainty has become a constant background noise in my life.

Each day carries a mix of hope and frustration, as I swing between optimism that the next appointment might bring answers and the annoyance of another inconclusive result. It’s a challenge to remain patient and positive when the path to wellness feels never-ending. Often, the struggle between my own ears is as or more problematic than the physical one.

As June 28th approaches, marking a year since this parade of fuckery, I find myself reflecting on the life changes that have accompanied it. Adjusting my lifestyle to accommodate both the knowns and the unknows has meant altering routines that felt as natural as breathing. From dietary changes and new exercise regimes to prioritizing rest and stress management, the shifts have been both major and minor but always impactful. The experience has reshaped my understanding of health and well-being and the surprisingly delicate balance required to maintain it. 

A year later I wish I had better answers than, “well, as long as the incidents aren’t recurring, keep doing what you’re doing.” Patience in the face of uncertainty has never been one of my strengths. This experience hasn’t improved that at all. As I gain some distance from the events that launched this ridiculousness, pondering on what it all means and what’s going to happen has receded to manageable proportions rather than filling a dominate place in my daily thoughts. That has gone a long way to letting me make the mental leap to getting back to what now passes for normal.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Antwerpen Chrysler Jeep Dodge. Antwerpen is apparently the outfit that bought my Jeep after the nice people at Land Rover sent it to auction. They, in turn, sold it to someone named Kok Loeng. But somehow as far as the dealership and the MVA are concerned it’s still my email and physical mail address associated with the Jeep. I regularly get letters both electronic and physical. I guess it’s only a little absurd that they can’t sort it out. I advised them once but now they’re on their own. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but it feels pretty much in character for both a car dealership and the state government.

2. Smell. I was walking the halls at the office on Tuesday and was struck by a distinct smell that I always identify with hotel rooms at the beach. I think it’s some combination of a space being overly air conditioned, high humidity, and cleaning products. If I hadn’t known better, I could have said I was walking the halls at the Carousel thirty odd years ago. It’s a damned dirty trick for your mind to play when you’re standing in the dumb office being a trusted professional. 

3. Here we are on Thursday, trying to slip back into the week after a random holiday on Wednesday. I’m not a big fan of these floating holidays. Where they fall on most other points in the calendar, I fill in the blanks with some of my own vacation time to build out a nice long weekend. Since I’ve already done that in early June and will do it again in early July, burning off more vacation time between the two feels excessive. So, what we’re left with was basically a week that feels very much like it’s had two Mondays. If that’s not the sign of a having a bad time, I don’t know what would be. 

I’m not there yet…

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I want to like artificial intelligence. I was an early adopter of things like the Blackberry and iPhone, tablet computers, and Blu-ray disks. Getting my hands on new tech was thrilling. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t toned that down considerably. I still like having neat new hardware, but tech like Generative Pre-trained Transformers (GPT) and the raft of other AI platforms feels somewhere between overwhelming and terrifying.

Technology is advancing at an unprecedented pace. Innovations are not only frequent but also increasingly complex. GPT, for example, is built on sophisticated machine learning models that can generate human-like text. This level of complexity can be daunting, even for those who have always embraced new technologies. The rapid pace means there’s less time to acclimate and understand each new development.

Earlier technologies, though innovative, were often more transparent and easier to understand. In contrast, many modern AI systems, including GPT, operate as “black boxes.” Their decision-making processes are opaque, making it difficult to comprehend how they work or predict their behavior. It’s a classic example of AI being asked a question, something magic happening, and the system spitting out an answer on the other side. 

Throw in a healthy dose of skepticism about how easy these systems will be to control or how well privacy is being protected and I feel like I’m increasingly in danger of turning into the old man standing in his front yard shaking his fist at a cloud. Maybe I’ve just finally gotten old enough that I’ll never be entirely comfortable again in a world so deeply different than the one I was born into. I want to like this stuff. It’s fascinating and I expect it’s fully going to run the world in the future… but every time I fiddle with it, I’m left feeling just a bit uneasy.

I really do want to like AI. I think it’s clearly the next stage of our technological development. I want to like it, but I’m just not there yet.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Portion size. For most of my life, I’ve ignored the “recommended serving size” listed on most products. All it ever told me is that I identify as a family of four for purposes of meal prep. The reality is the serving size listed for most things is honestly absurd. Have you ever really measured out a single ounce of peanuts? It’s way, way less than an adult male hand full. An ounce of cheese? That’s something like a 1×1 inch cube. A serving size apparently isn’t half a package of bacon. Want a sandwich? Yeah, that’s “one serving” for each slice of bread. Utter bullshit that in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four, we haven’t come up with a consequence free way to eat the tasty food.

2. Never being satisfied. Sitting in the office doing stuff that I plainly have the capability of doing while sitting in the comfort of my sunroom remains pretty much infuriating. Look, I know that being in the office once or twice a week – in comparison to the five days a week that was the norm in the olden days – is a huge step in the right direction. Yet on those days when I have to put on pants and drive the 40 minutes to sit in fluorescent splendor, it all feels completely ridiculous. I don’t expect to see another revolution in office affairs in my lifetime, but having seen what could have been – what should have been – how we’re forced to operate “just because” feels entirely absurd.

3. Trash Tech. At one time Trash Tech was a reasonably well-respected trash company. Their cans were thick in the neighborhood on trash day. When I sold the truck and opted to hire a service, they were the top of the list. It was a horrible mistake. In the one month I maintained service with them there wasn’t a single day when pickup happened on its scheduled day. For two out of four weeks there was no pickup at all. Our business relationship was terminated for cause pretty quickly and that’s where the drama really started. Because I was “under contract” for three months of service, they wouldn’t come retrieve their containers until the end of that period – which would have been the end of March. For the last two and a half months, their cans continued to sit here. Finally tired of calling their customer service number, I opted for the far more humorous option of invoicing them for two months of storage and advising of the administrative fee that would be imposed at the end of June if I had to arrange alternative removal and disposal of their equipment. Sometime this morning, their cans finally disappeared. Sadly, the invoice remains unpaid.