I didn’t know that’s what this was called. It is one carol that doesn’t bother me no matter how many times it’s played.

We all die alone. Unless you’re the pilot.

Working retail for a decade-plus did it all in for me. 100 cumulative weeks of Christmas carols, decorations, impatience, childish adults, stress, and readjusting merchandising just so we could be told that we missed targets, underperformed, and failed at loss prevention.

So, I quit. I also quit X-mas. I celebrated on beaches for a few years. That was great. In deserts for a few as well. But, alas, I have returned to the rugged white north and the big-box spectacle. I have children who get a “normal” Christmas. The elf is on a shelf.

As for dying alone, I choose life. It’s the part we experience. I have a partner and a family, true. More on this later. But, I don’t plan on being parked in a nursing home as a drooling, vegetative, sieve-brained, line-item expense; or some mega-corp, health-sector, big-pharm farm animal. Milowda na animal.

When I can no-longer read and write and wipe my own bum — or when the pain, despair, and attendant paperwork for living threatens to overwhelm my desire to continue — I’ll want no part of this life anymore.

I’m an introvert. My kids mourn my partner going to a yoga class more than they’ll ever mourn my passing. My wife would be pissed it wasn’t put in the shared calendar. I’ve not got roots anywhere anymore, so my funeral will be sparsely attended. My close friends, I see once a year. My sibs would attend. But, that’s essentially it. None of my colleagues from previous schools. None of my students. None of the people I met in travels. None of my old schoolmates. All those ties are gone.

What’s left? Not much. So be it. Today, I’m alive. Today, I can learn, create, and leave messages in bottles. Today, I can respond to you and say the time, place and circumstance of your death tells nothing about you. The times, places, and decisions of your life — from a single room to the infinite vacuum — only partially tell your story. You, being here, tell the rest.

Got you. And this list.

No, I was checking whether you thought it was the ✝️-ians who were annoyed. Like, who the “their” was in your question:

Do you feel like that lessens [✝️-ians] annoyance about it? (I assume the ✝️-ians are annoyed be virtually everything non-traditional at this point)

Or

Do you feel like that lessens [the Greeks] annoyance about it? (I didn’t know the Greeks would be annoyed about it. But, hey, you live you learn.)

Or

Do you feel like that lessens [the English] annoyance about it? (I assume the English would be annoyed because of the aforementioned laziness in spelling)

Hating on 1950s X-mas carols.

The Tomandandy version from the Rules of Attraction.

Who, the X-ians?

Ill find it and have a listen.

Ill check it out.

Aw, this would’ve set up our gen-AI present much more accurately.

Human bodies as datacenters? How long til Bezos, Gates, and Zuckerberg figure that one out?

21st century slavery in the making. Promises of fat contracts, lots of money to send back home to family, careers in the tech sector. All the while it’s the dead being fed to the living to process data need for the rich to live in an immersive fantasy land.

The next scene, at Mül, was also good set-up for the motivations of the film: A humanoid species living in perfect balance with a whole, tropical-beautiful planet, which is then — predictably —

Remove Joel Silver from the production team of the Matrix: Reloaded and Revolutions. Creative control to the Wachowskis.

Allow the countercultural, noir elements that made the first Matrix excellent. Police and innocent bystanders are potential if not actual enemies. Fewer set-piece fights; more skillful, thoughtful moments like the fight against Seraph.

And, certainly, a different end-fight arc. Once Smith has the Oracle’s power, a slugfest stops making sense.

I met my partner 18 years ago. She started therapy regularly after our first five years together. She started to see some patterns in her behaviour, especially toward me, that she wanted to work on. Since then, she has decided she wants to become a therapist.

On the other hand, my journey started when I tried to access counselling 25 years ago. My GP tried to put me on an antidepressant immediately. I said no. Since meeting my partner and her starting her therapeutic journey, she has tried for a long time to get me into seeing a therapist. It took almost 15 years, but I started about a month ago.

Now, this first therapist has not been mind-blowing in any way. No breakthroughs, no revelations. Really, I don’t think we’re vibing. But, still, being able to say aloud some of the things that I hide from everyone else is, in and of itself, therapeutic.

The list, above, were my stumbling blocks, too. They still are. Add to the list that I’m an underemployed, visible minority, a father-of-two in a high-stress career, and that I refuse to “adjust [blithely] to a profoundly sick society.” I’d rather continue to feel my isolation and my detachment than walk into Walmart whistling and smiling at my good fortune.

All this to say (TL;DR) therapy comes from your own commitment to honest self-examination. Guided, surely, but at least attempted. It won’t be found in a pill, potion, or portent. I hope to find a therapist who can challenge me to do better.

After seeing it placed in an episode of Ozark, I took on reading Tony Judt’s Postwar. Such an incredible recount of the lived experiences of Europeans from 1945 to 2005.

While I was reading it, I stumbled into an article titled “The Man Who Freed Me From Cant” written by Ta-Nehisi Coates — another of my favourite authors. Though not a historian, his books and articles record contemporary history with combination of indomitable force and ineffable grace.

I cannot understate how shit Luc Besson’s Jeanne d’Arc film was. At least, in my memory. I know, I know; everyone’s got an opinion. These are my two cents. This movie really let me down.

The first teaser, which gave absolutely nothing away, was excellent. The cast was solid. I thought, cool, Besson is doing a period piece.

Wow, it was dog shit. Dustin Hoffman’s role helped. But barely.

It was up for international awards. Milla Jovovich went for a Golden Raspberry.

https://www.macrotrends.net/1333/historical-gold-prices-100-year-chart

In August 1976, gold was $35/oz, close to its historical level. By October 1979, it was $380/oz, over 10× increase — peaking (for the 20th c.) in January 1980 at $668/oz.

20× return in 3.5 years.

Gold doubled again in value by December 2010, and again by January 2025 — to $2800/oz.

The all-time high, 20 October 2025, $4377.58/oz.

125× return in under 40 years.

I’ve seen it said: it’s not that gold has gotten more expensive. Its that the USD is debased as a currency against the dollar. The gold standard for USD ended in August 1971.

Well, that only took most of a year.

No, the just say “el pendejo”.

Diplomacy.

After 9/11, when the world weighed an invasion of Afghanistan, America could have skipped the invasion, taken the Al Qaeda leadership the Taliban offered up, and continued to seek O/UBL. A forensic investigation and specific arrests, extradition, trials, and convictions would have been much better than a disastrous 20 year war that accomplished two things: enriching military contractors and the impoverishment of a central Asian nation.

Diplomacy.

Deposing Saddam Hussein with the same type of pressure that, later, led to the ousters of Hosni Mubarak, Ben Ali, and Bashar al Assad. Some might say that 2003 created the pretext for the Arab Spring. I’d counter that time and tide created the conditions. Operation Iraqi Freedom was a pipe dream and an extension on the GWoT piggy bank.

Diplomacy.

Building a better, more sustainable future demands a move away from fossil fuels. Making driving, urban sprawl, warfare, agribiz, and Amazon packages into a socially toxic soup of ideas would have done wonders for green initiatives. Instead a turn away from the largest industries of the time was — and still is — regarded as heresy.

Team efforts.

When people see one another’s skills and can come to have confidence in and rely on each other, that builds bonds. Creative exercises are good ways to achieve this. Co-producing a play or video, painting a room, or making a meal (while not hungry, of course) could be methods that help kids to practice this. We take our kids camping and there are lots of ways for kids to work together and rely on each other. Also, opportunities to exercise independent competence and to do tasks that help the family.

Trauma bonding is a dicier strategy. Could work out. Could end in tears. It all depends how many times you want to have them survive a winter plane crash on a mountainside. By the third time, they’d probably catch on.