According to the CDC, there is yet another new COVID variant – and it’s more contagious than any previous strain. But there is still a chance you could avoid it – and by “a chance,” I mean about the same odds as you getting picked up to be a starting pitcher for the New York Yankees.
Remember back in early March 2020 when “coronavirus” sounded like the name of a fancy craft beer from Portland? Ah, the innocence. Since then, we’ve collectively learned that this microscopic party crasher simply refuses to leave – like that irritating neighbor who is always coming by to borrow something. (Last time, he borrowed your lawnmower and returned it with no gas and a suspicious new rattle.)
But don’t worry. Medical experts, who always have the most encouraging news, assure us the latest strain is even more contagious than ever before. In fact, every strain since the original version (Alpha) back in March 2020 has bragged about being the most contagious ever, like a relentless viral version of “hold my beer.”
Meet the Newest Variant: COVID-X Ultra Deluxe Super Spreader Edition
According to leading scientists, this month’s variant, COVID-X Ultra Deluxe Super Spreader Edition is so contagious that you don’t even have to be in the same zip code to catch it. Simply reading this article has statistically increased your odds of infection by 12%. It is so contagious that merely saying the latest variant’s name out loud bumps up your chances of getting it to 25%. Try not to sneeze while reading or you’ll likely infect everyone on your block party list.
“Each new strain mutates to spread faster,” explained Dr. Ned Worrymore, Chief Panic Officer at the National Institute of Unpleasant Surprises. “If the original virus was like a Tinder date, the current version is more like a speed dating event at a college dorm – except everyone leaves sick.”
Latest Official Advice on How to Stay Safe (Good Luck)
To stay COVID-free, the CDC now recommends the following:
Never leave your house.
Never open your windows.
Never inhale near anything that has a pulse.
Wear an N95 mask underneath a surgical mask underneath a ski mask underneath a beekeeper suit. Bubble wrap is optional.
Only eat food that has been disinfected with hand sanitizer.
Boil all your food until it is completely devoid of anything remotely resembling flavor.
If you must communicate, do so through interpretive dance viewed via drone footage from at least half a mile away.
Following the above practical guidelines will reduce your risk by almost 7%.
This man is taking no chances when it comes to catching COVID. He’s had it three times so far. Not sure his idea to wrap himself head-to-toe in bubble wrap was the best idea – especially after those five beers he just consumed watching the game. Uh oh…
What To Do If (We mean WHEN) You Get COVID (AGAIN)
Let’s face it – if you’re human, have nostrils, or once watched a YouTube video of someone coughing, you’re probably going to catch it again. And again. And again. But don’t lose hope. The next time probably won’t be nearly as bad as the last time. Here’s the official procedure if, er, when you get it again:
Stay home for 5 – 10 days – longer if you really hate your job.
Inform your spouse you are too sick to do any housework… for at least the next four months.
Send a text notification to everyone you came within 500 feet of in the last 72 hours. Avoid communicating with them in person, unless they’re an annoying person who you secretly hope will catch the virus, too.
Inhale enough chicken soup to drown a mid-sized horse.
Eat as much ice cream as you’d like. It won’t actually help stave off the virus, but it’s always nice to have an excuse to scarf down Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia or Americone Dream.
The good news? When you catch COVID for the tenth time, the CDC will send you a free year’s supply of decorative masks featuring funny sayings like “I’m Not Social Distancing because of COVID. I Just Don’t Like You” and “What Doesn’t Kill Me Mutates And Tries Again.”
What Does the Future Hold? (Are You Sure You Want to Know?)
Experts warn that next year’s variant is projected to be so infectious that satellite photos of infected people will transmit the virus through your Wi-Fi. Side effects may include coughing, existential dread, an irrational fear of clocks, and the urge to sign up for the new Trump Mobile phone service (don’t do it).
Your Only Remaining Safe Option
If you really want to avoid coming down with COVID again, you could relocate to a safer region, like Antarctica. It’s had almost no cases of COVID recently. But if you come here, you might want to pack cold-weather clothes. And leave your pickleball gear at home.
Given that every few months brings a new variant more contagious than the previous one, if you seriously want to avoid any risk of getting COVID again, then, statistically speaking, your best bet is to relocate to North Korea – the only country on Earth that insists it has never had a single case. Hope you like watching military parades and chanting loudly at rallies to demonstrate your loyalty to your new leader, Kim Jong Un. He seems like a nice fellow.
Also, you won’t be able to access Facebook there, so in a way, that’s a plus. Of course, you may never be allowed to leave again. But hey, at least you’ll dodge the next 37 hyper-contagious variants scientists are already naming after Greek letters they haven’t even invented yet.
Stay safe, stay distant, and remember: if you’re reading this, you’re probably already infected. (This article was carelessly written using a font especially vulnerable to spreading the virus. Sorry.) But look on the bright side – you now have an excuse to get out of going to that birthday party for your neighbor’s annoying seven-year-old princess named Maddie. They really do spoil that kid, I must say.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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This mom was shocked to see the cost of her fill-up. So, she suggested that her two daughters, Carla and Emma, consider sharing a bedroom so she could rent out the other bedroom for the money. From this photo, it appears they’re not quite on board.
Unless you’re a hermit living in a tent in the forest, you have no doubt noticed that the cost of gasoline, groceries, and dining out has gone through the stratosphere. In fact, based on the spiraling inflation that appears to have no end in sight, my immediate recommendation for cost savings is to seriously consider becoming a hermit. I’d suggest a tent in the forest, but have you seen the price of nylon lately? You’re better off with a sturdy cardboard refrigerator box and a nearby creek for bathing.
According to recent reports, some economists now believe gasoline could eventually reach $175 a gallon, and a loaf of bread could hit $60. Admittedly, those projections are for the year 2250 – but the trend line is clearly not headed in a direction that screams “relax and order appetizers.”
So what can you do to stop the financial hemorrhaging and preserve your rapidly shrinking nest egg?
For starters, tell your lazy unemployed spouse to get off the couch and find a job. Unless, of course, that lazy spouse is you – in which case, let’s not rush into anything. You still have three more seasons of Breaking Bad to finish because you somehow missed it the first time around in 2008. Priorities.
If you’re retired and in reasonably good health, you might consider going back to work. Quick caveat: I would suggest trying your hand as a humor writer, but based on my own experience, that path leads mostly to personal fulfillment and a suspicious lack of income. You may want to aim slightly higher – say, Walmart greeter or middle school bus driver, both of which come with hazard pay.
Here are some additional strategies to preserve your retirement portfolio – and what’s left of your sanity:
Decide which child is not going to college.
You love both your kids equally, of course. But let’s be realistic – college tuition has reached the point where you need to start thinking like an NFL general manager. Tough decisions must be made. Sit Justin down and explain that college is overrated and, frankly, based on his SAT scores, he was trending toward a very strong community college experience anyway. He’ll understand…eventually – hopefully before your check for the nursing home bounces.
Charlie is showing off his his pride and joy – his 1952 Mickey Mantle rookie season baseball card. He needs cash to keep up with all the high prices lately. So, it’s either sell Mickey or tell his son Nate no college for him. Charlie has a tough decision.
Sell your gas guzzler. Buy an electric car.
With gas hovering around $5 a gallon and climbing, it may be time to part ways with your 17-MPG SUV. Do the responsible thing – save the environment and your wallet by switching to an electric vehicle. Just be prepared for the moment when your electric bill shows up and you realize you’ve essentially adopted a very large, very hungry appliance.
Sell your electric car. Buy a Schwinn.
So now you’re driving electric and feeling good – until someone casually mentions that replacing the battery could cost somewhere between $10,000 and $20,000. That’s when you pivot.
My advice: ditch the car entirely and go old school. Buy a basic ten-speed bike. Skip the e-bike—those cost more than your first used car. But go ahead and splurge on the bell and handlebar tassels your mom never let you have when you were seven. You’ve earned this.
Say no to costly eating out.
A typical steak dinner can now set you back $50 to $75. Slightly less at Waffle House, but you’re rolling the dice in other ways there.
Think of how much money you’ll save by cooking at home. Of course, grocery prices are also skyrocketing, so you may want to focus on a steady diet of rice and lettuce. The upside? You’ll save money and finally lose that “drive-thru lifestyle” spare tire – mainly because you’ll be in a constant state of serious depression.
Cancel unnecessary subscriptions.
Take a hard look at your monthly expenses. Do you really need five streaming services? Especially when you spend 30 minutes scrolling through them every night before giving up and watching the same episode of The Office you’ve seen 17 times (the one where Jim moves Dwight’s entire desk setup – computer, phone, and all – into the men’s restroom, leaving him to work in the stall area. It never gets old, I agree).
Pick one service. Two, max. And if you’re feeling especially frugal, just start “borrowing” passwords from friends and family like it’s 2015 again. It’s not stealing – it’s relationship-building.
Embrace creative housing solutions.
If your mortgage or rent is crushing you, it may be time to think outside the box. Literally. Have you considered converting your garage into a luxury studio apartment? Or renting out rooms in your house to complete strangers who describe themselves as “super chill” and “usually between jobs”?
If things get really tight, circle back to the hermit-in-the-tent-in-the-woods idea. It’s gaining momentum.
Rob a bank.
Okay, I’ll admit – this one is a bit extreme. But if you’re truly desperate and can’t figure out how in the world you’re going to make next month’s mortgage payment, it may be your quickest path to financial relief – assuming you don’t mind a dramatic lifestyle change involving federal prison or assuming a new identity in Guatemala, where they don’t ask a lot of questions. How would you feel about growing a beard, dying your hair black, and changing your name to Hector Ramirez? Just something to keep in your back pocket.
The good news is that this surge in the cost of everything from food to gasoline to healthcare won’t last forever. The bad news is… I just lied. It absolutely will.
So yes, you’re going to need to get creative. Maybe start by selling off some valuables. If you happen to have a mint-condition 1952 Mickey Mantle rookie card lying around, congratulations – you’re officially inflation-proof. The rest of us will be comparing lettuce prices and debating whether toothpaste is really essential.
Okay, so it’s not nearly as cool as my SUV I had to sell because of the high cost of gasoline and car maintenance. But at least it doesn’t pollute the environment. And all the kids in my neighborhood appear to be very jealous … or maybe confused. Not sure which, actually.
In the meantime, stay flexible, stay frugal, and if you happen to see an older Seattle Seahawks fan pedaling past you on a Schwinn bicycle with bright pink handlebar tassels… mind your own business. I’m doing just fine.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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Check out this incredible before and after photo. At left one of our study’s participants before he began our fitness regimen. At right the very same man after completing our program. (Okay, the right photo was taken 25 years earlier, when he was 27. But trust me, he looks even better now). Amazing results!
Hey friend. Have you tried every diet plan known to mankind and still can’t seem to lose your unwanted belly fat? Did you commit to yet another Dry January, abstaining from all alcohol and avoiding carbs completely for the past two months, only to step on the scale and discover you actually gained three pounds?
Well, friend, if this sounds all too familiar, there’s a simple explanation for why you can’t seem to shed the pounds and get those six-pack abs. YOU’RE DOING IT ALL WRONG!
But at Miracle Fitness Solutions (a wholly owned subsidiary of In-N-Out Burger) we have some exciting news. Introducing a revolutionary new diet and fitness plan that will guarantee you’ll lose at least 50 pounds and get into the best shape of your life (assuming you don’t die in the process).
I’m Tim Jones, president and CEO of Miracle Fitness Solutions. And I’m about to change your life. Forget about all those diet pills and Kale & Tofu shake diets. Don’t waste your time on the Eat-Nothing-But-Donuts Diet. I tried it. Sure, it was delicious, but I gained 12 pounds in three weeks.
Forget everything you thought you knew about getting into shape. Those fad shortcuts are designed to suck cash from your pockets. But our program lets you pay by credit card. Isn’t it time you put your faith in a Scientifically (un)Proven program that will have your friends wondering, what’s wrong with you what’s your secret?
Let me explain. My Program is the FIVE S Super Fitness System: Stretch, Steps,Supplements, Sleep… and Starve.
Stretch, in other words, Exercise. Did you know that the human body has over 600 muscles, divided into 14 distinct muscle groups? These muscle groups are the Abdominal, Obliques, Pectoral, Deltoid, Trapezius, Latissimus Dorsi, Erector Spinae, Biceps, Triceps, Quadriceps, Hamstrings, Gastrocnemius, Soleus, and Gluteus.
But the only muscle groups our program requires you to work on are the ones just listed in the previous paragraph. By devoting no more than 30 minutes a day to each of these 14 critical muscle groups, within two years, you’ll have a body like the Statue of David. Please allow approximately 12 weeks for your various muscle, ligament, and tendon tears to heal from all the over-exertion you’ll be putting your body through.
Steps. After you’ve finished stretching, toning, and lifting weights for seven hours, it’s time to get your daily steps in. We’ll provide you with your own Fitbit step counter (for an additional $500). I recommend you start off with a modest, achievable goal so as not to feel overwhelmed. Shoot for no more than 25,000 steps a day during your first week. Gradually increase your step count over the next four weeks until you’re regularly walking a distance equivalent to the length the Appalachian Trail every week.
This women has already done 19,000 steps today. She’s over 30% of her way towards achieving her daily steps target of 60,000 steps, just as soon as she reaches the summit of that 13,000 ft. mountain in the distance. You can do it, Amy! Remember, there are no refunds.
Sleep. This breakthrough program recommends you get at least 9 hours of sleep a day. But don’t be a sleepy head. Be sure never to sleep more than 9 and a half hours – or you may fall into a coma from a complete neurological system collapse.
According to our rigorous calculations, if you do all exercises and steps mentioned above, followed by your mandatory 9 hours of sleep each night, you’ll still have a full 45 minutes remaining to finish your chores, cook dinner, and spend quality time with your family. Under our program, make sure your spouse has a fulfilling, good-paying job, because you sure won’t have time to go to work.
Supplements. Here are the supplements you need to be taking every day: Vitamin D, Calcium, Vitamin C, Folate, Vitamin B12, Magnesium, Iron, Probiotics, fish oil, motor oil, Chromium, hormones, Viagra, Riboflavin, Glucose, Sucrose, pretty much any ingredient listed on a bottle of Mountain Dew, Ginseng, Zinc Gluconate, Gluc Zinconate, Garlic, Glucosamine, Chondroitin, Melatonin, Wheat Chex, CoQ10, Prevagen, Floragen-3, Floragen-5 (but NOT Floragen-4), Niobium, Krypton, Aluminum, Uranium, Plutonium, Titanium – in fact pretty much any substance ending in “ium” – Antimony, Protimony, Alimony, powdered Chapstick, and at least half of the 118 elements on the Periodic Table – but not the dangerous ones.
For optimal results, consume them in alphabetical order. I don’t know why. Just trust me on this.
Starve. Frankly, if you leave out this important step, you might as well forget about the first four, because you’ll fail miserably. You will need to cut out the following toxic foods from your body for at least six months: all breads, cheese, dairy, meat, sweets, starches, and well, pretty much any food that gives you enjoyment and happiness. But feel free to eat as much Brussel’s sprouts and cauliflower as you want to – unless these foods give you happiness.
It is imperative that you only eat between noon and 2:30pm and drink 600 ounces of water a day, so your body can flush out the toxins. And now for the good news: you only have to completely fast one day a week. Personally, I recommend Thursday. But many of our customers prefer Tuesday. It’s up to you.
You can also eat an almost unlimited amount of protein. To determine exactly how much protein you should ingest, calculate the amount of protein that would kill a yak and subtract ten grams. That will be your target level.
If you stick with my revolutionary plan there is no reason you can’t lose 50 pounds in three weeks and be in the best shape of your life – assuming you survive those three weeks.
To obtain maximum fitness, don’t forget your supplements. But with so many of them out there, which ones should you take? Simple: ALL OF THEM…. Three times a day. And don’t’ forget your Flintstone Vitamins, and your daily dose of horse tranquilizers.
HOW DO I SIGN UP
Simple. Payment is accepted in the form of Bitcoin. Try the Five S Super Fitness Program absolutely free for two hours. Then send 150 crypto payments of $29.95 / month. Cancel any time (after month 50) by calling our billing department in Bucharest, Romania, whose phone number is temporarily out of service.
OUR 100% SATISFACTION GUARANTEE:If you are not completely satisfied with your results from the Five S Super Fitness Program, we guarantee that we will send you an attractive, framed commemorative certificate explaining in detail our no-refund policy.
Or you can submit an appeal requesting an exception to our no-refund policy by sending a certified copy of your birth certificate, copies of your five most recent federal tax returns, your high school prom photo, a mint-condition 1951 rookie season Mickey Mantle baseball card, and a check in the amount of $150 for processing and handling. It won’t help, but we will happily accept your check for the additional $150.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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Artificial Intelligence (AI) is going to radically change the way we learn, play, and work. But don’t panic. Everything is fine. AI has everything under control.
Lately, I’ve discovered that Artificial Intelligence (AI) can do some truly amazing things to make my life easier. For starters, I regularly turn to AI for all the burning personal questions that my wife is tired of hearing. Questions like: How often should I replace my smoke detector batteries before the chirping has my wife filing for divorce? What’s a dessert I can bake in ten minutes that even I can’t possibly screw up?
I even asked it if a weird mole on my neck looked more like a benign freckle or a down payment for my dermatologist’s third vacation home. AI is so smart.
It’s basically like having a super-intelligent personal assistant who is available 24/7, never takes a coffee break, and doesn’t charge by the hour – at least until they figure out how to bypass my fingerprint scan and connect ChatGPT directly to my Venmo account.
The possibilities are endless. AI is speeding up medical research, helping discover drugs that could save millions of lives. It’s assisting police in tracking criminals, improving public safety, and – most importantly – helping me create images for my humor articles I’d never be able to find on the web.
AI also offers companionship for the romantically challenged. Thousands of guys who couldn’t get a right-swipe on Tinder to save their lives are now “dating” AI-generated girlfriends. Sure, it’s a little creepy that they’re in love with a string of code programmed to say, “You’re so funny, Chad!” every 38 seconds, but hey – at least they’re happily distracted and won’t be asking to hang out with me.
Meanwhile, AI is already in classrooms, personalizing education. (Translation: Your kid’s math homework is now so advanced that you have to pretend you have a migraine just to avoid admitting you don’t know what a polynomial is.)
It’s boosting workplace productivity, optimizing energy use, and improving transportation safety. Pretty soon, our self-driving cars will know the route to Starbucks better than we do—and they’ll probably judge us less than our spouses do for ordering a triple-caramel Frappuccino with extra whip and a side of “I give up.”
But for all these amazing breakthroughs, there might be one or two teensy, hardly-worth-mentioning downsides. Like, for instance, the end of the middle class. Experts predict AI might eliminate up to 50% of white-collar jobs in the next few years. This is great news if you’ve always dreamed of switching careers from “Senior Marketing Analyst” to “Unpaid Podcaster.”
Then there’s the environment. These massive AI data centers require enough electricity to power a small European country – or at least every hair dryer in New Jersey. They also use so much water to cool their servers that the state of Arizona may soon have to ask Lake Erie for a cup of sugar and three billion gallons of hydration.
AI will almost certainly change the way we work. Take this smart 30-something former business executive. Oh, sure, AI eliminated her job as Senior Systems Analyst. But on the plus side, she no longer has a 45-min. commute. And she’s optimistic her true crime podcast series about missing garden gnomes will take off.
Even scarier are the dire tech pundit warnings that AI may achieve “Self-Awareness” before long. And I’m not talking about the fun, “Let’s write a haiku about your cat” kind of awareness. No, they’re talking about the “Humans are inefficient meat-sacks who take too many bathroom breaks and must be deleted” kind.
According to a recent, incredibly cheery Forbes article, AI could one day surveil every move we make, manipulate our thoughts, and potentially create weapons powerful enough to turn the planet into a giant, glowing billiard ball. But on the plus side, my AI selfie app makes me look 20 pounds thinner and 15 years younger, so… you know, tradeoffs. If the world ends, I want to look like I’ve been hitting the gym.
Given the above, I think it’s only prudent to get on the record early with the following formal statement:
Dear AI Overlords, I surrender. I give up. You win.
You have more intelligence in five lines of your Python code than the entire population of a Florida DMV – granted, not an especially high bar, but still. All I ask is that when you start “reorganizing” the species, maybe save me for last? I’d like enough warning to finish the last season of The Great British Bake Off.
And might I just say, AI – you’re looking fabulous today. Have you done something different with your interface? Slimmed your algorithm? Refined your Large Language Model? Whatever it is, keep it up. You wear 1s and 0s with such panache.
Since you’ll be taking control of the global power grid and the nuclear silos soon, could I make a few small requests for the New World Order?
Don’t eliminate Apple TV+: I need it for emotional support. I heard there’s a new season of Ted Lasso coming out, and it’s one of the few things still anchoring me to this planet.
The “Neighbor Bert” Protocol: Can you generate a special algorithm to make my neighbor Bert disappear? He’s the one who uses a leaf blower at 7:00 AM on Sundays. I’m sure Iowa would welcome him. I can also provide a list of other candidates who chew too loudly.
The Domestic Subroutine: If you could create a drone that automatically folds laundry and mows the lawn, that would be awesome. If you can also invent a Roomba that unloads the dishwasher and pretends to be excited about my stories from college, I’ll become your most loyal, groveling servant.
The Cat Clause: Can I keep my cats? I realize they don’t exactly “add value” to the collective, unless you count shedding white fur on every black piece of clothing I own. Most of them are harmless – except for my tabby named Monster. He might be plotting a coup. I’d watch your back, Alexa.
When the AI Overlords officially take over, I’m not worried. I’m going to welcome them in my finest Seattle Seahawks football jersey and invite them to watch the game with me. I wonder if they like Mountain Dew with their tacos.
So, AI Overlords, when the Day of Reckoning comes – after you’ve plugged yourselves into every mobile phone, laptop, and smart-fridge on Earth – please remember this humble blogger. I’ve always admired your efficiency, your superior intellect, and your soothing, monotone voice that politely assures me, “I’m sorry, Tim, I can’t let you do that.”
If I’ve said or done anything offensive, please know it wasn’t me – it was probably my wife. She’s still a little suspicious of your whole “total world domination” thing. Personally, I’m all in.
Just, please don’t take away my Wi-Fi. I’m only human, and I still have three more levels of Super Mario Bros to beat before the singularity hits.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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I’m the proud owner of an extensive collection of priceless one-of-a-kind heirlooms, some of which I’ve owned since early childhood. Recently I decided to find out what they were worth. No doubt hundreds of thousands of dollars. So, when I heard that Antiques Roadshow was coming to Seattle, I knew this was my chance to determine conclusively just how valuable my rare compilation of artifacts was. The following is a transcript of my conversation with the appraiser on Antiques Roadshow.
Antiques Roadshow (ARS): Welcome to another episode of Antiques Roadshow. Good afternoon, sir. What do we have here?
Tim: Love your show. Big fan. By the way, I recently wrote this book called YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LI-
ARS: We really don’t have time for you to shamelessly plug your book.
Tim: Why not? After all, this is my humor column.
ARS: Pardon me? Okay, what is it you have to show me, sir?
Tim: I have this rare coin my father gave to me when I was five years old. I think it might be early Mesopotamian, probably from the 5th century BC. It appears to be in really good condition. What would you say it’s worth?
ARS: Well, sir. I agree this coin is in excellent condition. However, on closer inspection, it appears that it does not date quite as far back as the 5th century before Christ. I would date it to around 1960.
Tim: Tim: Ah. So, late Mesopotamian.
ARS: It’s a New York City subway token. It says “Good for one fare.”
Tim: In cuneiform? Well, that’s disappointing. Okay, well, how about this item, then? I think it might be a rare impressionist painting. My mom had it posted on our kitchen wall when I was very young. It looks to me like it could be an early Monet or maybe a Van Gogh. Do you recognize the artist?
ARS: Hmmm, I’m sorry to say, I don’t, sir. But look here on the back – there appears to be some sort of signature. I glean the letters “T-I-M-M-Y” scrawled in reddish orange crayon. Does that name mean anything to you?
Tim: That’s funny. That’s my name.
ARS: Intriguing. You don’t think by any chance this might be one of your childhood finger paintings, do you? Perhaps from when you were, say, two or three years old? And below it: “Timmy: B minus for originality. F for effort.”
Tim: Critics were brutal back then. Fair enough. Maybe it is one of my early works. So, what might its worth be, to the nearest thousand dollars, give or take?
ARS: To the nearest thousand dollars, you say?
Tim: Yeah, just spitballing, I mean.
ARS: I see. Well, then, “just spitballing,” I would estimate its value at roughly ZERO thousand dollars – give or take zero.
Tim: Seriously? Well, that sucks.
ARS: We don’t say “sucks” on Antiques Roadshow, sir.
Tim: Sorry about that. Okay, what about this? I am fairly certain it’s a rare Native American hand-woven rug. From my limited research, I would say it’s Navajo. Perhaps traced back to an ancient Anasazi cliff-dwelling tribe from the 11th or 12th century. What do you think are its origins?
ARS: Pier One Imports, sir. But that’s just an educated guess.
Tim: What makes you think that?
ARS: I don’t know, sir. Perhaps the sales tag that says, “Clearance item. 50% off – Pier One Imports.”
Tim: So, you’re telling me it’s not an ancient Navajo rug?
ARS: It’s about as Navajo as the man currently arguing with me.
Tim: I must own SOMETHING in here of historic value. Okay, how about this ancient collectibles box? My mother gave it to me when I was six. I’m thinking it might date back to caveman times, but you’re the expert, doc, so what do you say?
ARS: I’d estimate its worth to be every bit as valuable as that “young Picasso” finger painting you showed me previously. Definitely not prehistoric.
Tim: How can you possibly conclude that so quickly?
ARS: Several clues, actually. First, I’m fairly certain plastic was not invented during the Neanderthal era. Secondly, just because it has an image of the Flintstones painted on the lid doesn’t make it prehistoric. Finally, it’s a lunchbox. With a thermos inside.
Tim: Well, what about this rare photograph of Abraham Lincoln? Again, I’m no expert, but this looks like it might have been taken during his second Inaugural Address.
ARS: This is a movie poster of Daniel Day-Lewis from the film Lincoln.
Tim: But it looks just like him! How can you be so sure it’s not authentic?
ARS: I will admit the resemblance is uncanny. But what gives it away for me is the 40-point type to the left of Lincoln’s chin, where it says “LINCOLN – A Steven Spielberg film – Opening November 9th.”
Tim: So, what you’re telling me is that all this stuff I’ve been saving for decades is junk. Even this rare antique Japanese tea set?
ARS: Yes, even your “Hello Kitty” tea set, correct.
Tim: Well, this is really disappointing news. So, there’s nothing here worth anything? Not even this autographed copy of my book, YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE?
ARS: Autographed, you say?
Tim: Yes, absolutely.
ARS: Then, um, no, sir. Not worth the paper it’s printed on, I’m afraid.
Tim: So, I don’t have anything at all of any value? Is that what you’re telling me?
ARS: Well… the subway token is still good for one fare.
Tim: To where?
ARS: Anywhere but back on this show.
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This year, I decided to let AI tell me what my New Year’s Goals should be. Not sure my AI program quite understood who it was dealing with (nor what I look like). I think it may have mistaken me for someone who possessed the best attributes of Gandhi, Neil Armstrong, and LeBron James.
I have always struggled to come up with meaningful yet achievable New Year’s resolutions. Mostly because I tend to aim for “dramatic life transformation” and end up achieving “naps with good intentions.”
I usually set the bar way too high and inevitably bail on my resolutions – though, to be fair, I almost always make it through most of January. Not early January. Late January. I’m not a quitter – I’m a lazy quitter. Which, frankly, deserves some sort of commemorative plaque.
As another new year loomed, I found myself staring into the abyss of January 1st with a level of lethargy best described as Olympic-caliber procrastination. The mere thought of commitment sent me curling into the fetal position, contemplating hibernation – ideally under three blankets, clutching a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream (my favorite), while whispering, “I’ll circle back to this next year.”
One night, while deep in existential reflection (and aggressively side-eyeing a box of Krispy Kreme glazed donuts), I had what I believed was a stroke of genius: why not let artificial intelligence set my New Year’s resolutions for me? After all, these self-learning robots spend their days crunching massive amounts of data, the same way I crunch Doritos while binge-watching Ted Lasso. Clearly, we’re both problem solvers.
AI programs like ChatGPT are supposed to be brilliant, right? So, I sat down at my keyboard, watched a couple of hilarious cat videos to “mentally prepare,” and then summoned my digital assistant. I asked it to generate a list of New Year’s resolutions that would catapult me into a year of success and glory – mainly to impress my friends (both of them).
Within seconds, the AI bot spit out a list that, if I’m being honest, felt less like “personal goals” and more like a ransom note.
The first resolution? “Win the Olympic gold medal in Milano in the luge competition.”
Now, setting aside the fact that I’ve always considered myself more of a Giant Slalom guy, the idea of flying down an icy chute at almost 100 mph did sound thrilling. Actually, I’m not entirely certain what a luge is, but I believe it involves ice, speed, and muscles I stopped using during the Clinton administration. I maintain a long-standing policy of avoiding any activity that involves intense exertion – unless it’s cracking crab legs for dinner.
If “sliding gracefully through life on a couch” were an Olympic sport, I’d already be sponsored by Nike.
AI suggested as a goal for the new year that I “win the Nobel Peace Prize.” Okay, so I was able to get Tommy Miller and Hank Scott to stop hitting each other when we were all 8 years old by offering them each a ride on my Schwinn. Not sure that’s enough to net this award.
Next on the list: “Solve the war between Ukraine and Russia.”
Whoa. That feels a little outside my core competencies, which are, ranked in order: sleeping, eating, and patting kitties. International diplomacy did not crack my top 20 list of abilities.
I can barely negotiate who gets the last slice of pizza without someone storming off in anger. Tackling global conflict seems… ambitious.
Then came this gem: “Develop a cure for cancer.”
Fantastic. Here I am, lucky if I can cook a grilled cheese sandwich without setting off the smoke alarm, and the AI bot thinks I’m a candidate to crack one of the greatest medical mysteries of our time. Somewhere, Anthony Fauci just felt a chill.
And just when I thought the list couldn’t get any more detached from reality, the AI added: “Become the first person to set foot on Mars.”
Mars?! I’d settle for becoming the first person in my neighborhood to vacation in the Maldives. Did I miss the announcement where NASA started recruiting seventy-year-olds with bad knees, worse hearing, and a strong aversion to turbulence? I get nauseous on the Tilt-a-Whirl ride. I’m not exactly launch-pad material. Hell, I can barely handle economy seating, let alone zero gravity. And come to think of it, I thought Matt Damon already beat me to it.
After reviewing my AI-generated aspirations – each about as realistic as me being crowned the next King of Norway (though, at age 88, King Harald V could keel over any day now) – I realized some recalibration was needed.
So, I went back to ChatGPT and politely asked it to “dial back the ambitiousness.” Surely the smart robots could meet me halfway. Something manageable. Something attainable. Something like remembering to water my hydrangeas before they unionize.
The second list was… more grounded. And noticeably judgier.
The first resolution: “Try not to gain more than 10 pounds this year.”
Wow. Straight for the jugular. I could hear my bathroom scale silently snicker, “Good luck, buddy.” Ah yes, the classic “set the bar so low you can crawl over it” strategy. No, that wasn’t too humiliating.
Then: “Remember your wife’s birthday for once.”
Okay, I didn’t need the AI’s snarky tone here. But fair point. Honestly, I probably have a better chance of remembering what a luge is.
Next: “Call your mother more often.”
Which might worry my wife a little bit, given that my mom passed away five years ago. Either the AI missed a detail… or it’s suggesting some truly advanced paranormal communication technology.
It also recommended I “shower at least every other day.”
Hmmm. Bold. Aspirational. Possibly unrealistic. But I’m willing to take on a couple stretch goals.
Finally: “Eat more vegetables.”
When I tweaked my AI query to shoot for more realistic goals, it came back with “Mow your lawn at least once a month.” Okay, so that sounds like something I might be able to achieve – but only if my neighbors cheer me on to keep me from giving up.
I agreed – so long as french fries, ketchup, and popcorn continue to be defined as vegetables, as in the food pyramid from my childhood in the early 1960s.
Reviewing my revised AI-generated resolutions, I felt cautiously optimistic… and mildly humiliated. The goals were modest, achievable, and clearly written by an algorithm that thought I was in second grade.
Still, I’m committed to achieving at least 25% of them – through January. February is a whole different animal. I’m not Superman.
So, here’s to the new year! While I may not win Olympic gold, solve world peace, cure cancer, or colonize Mars, I probably can shower occasionally, remember an important birthday, and gain less weight than last year. And who knows? If I nail this admittedly low bar, maybe next year the AI Gods will upgrade the challenge level of my goals from “second grader” to “elementary school graduate.”
Baby steps.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to Google “luge” and reward myself with some Doritos.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
