Unpacking the Sweet Truth: Are Artificial Sweeteners Really Safe?

Posted on 2025-07-29 by The Narrator
Coca-Cola Zero by Jorge Barrios/Wikimedia Commons.

Coca-Cola Zero by Jorge Barrios/Wikimedia Commons.

I wrote a couple of days ago about the hype of replacing high-fructose corn syrup with cane sugar and what it really means to our bodies.  A natural extension of that article is considering the use of artificial sweeteners.  The natural reaction, if you can’t use option A safely, is to go all in on option B, but is this really the right choice?

In our quest for healthier lifestyles and reduced sugar intake, artificial sweeteners (also known as non-sugar sweeteners or NSS) have become ubiquitous. From diet sodas to sugar-free yogurts, these calorie-free or low-calorie alternatives promise sweetness without the guilt, but as their presence in our diets grows, so do questions about their safety. Are they truly harmless, or are there hidden risks?

Let’s delve into the science behind some of the most common artificial sweeteners and what health authorities and ongoing research say about them.

 

Aspartame: The Controversial Classic

Aspartame is one of the most widely recognized artificial sweeteners, found in thousands of products.

  • Regulatory Consensus: The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA), European Food Safety Authority (EFSA) and Health Canada consistently affirm that aspartame is safe for the general population when used within its established Acceptable Daily Intake (ADI). The FDA’s ADI is 50 milligrams per kilogram of body weight per day (50 mg/kg/day), while EFSA and Health Canada set it at 40 mg/kg/day.
  • The Cancer Debate: In July 2023, the International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC), a specialized cancer agency of the World Health Organization (WHO), classified aspartame as “possibly carcinogenic to humans”, placing it in Group 2B. This classification was based on “limited evidence” from human and animal studies. It’s crucial to understand that IARC identifies hazards (what can cause cancer), not risk (the likelihood of cancer at typical exposure).
  • Risk Assessment vs. Hazard Identification: Simultaneously, the Joint FAO/WHO Expert Committee on Food Additives (JECFA), which assesses the risk of food additives, reaffirmed the existing ADI of 0 to 40 mg/kg/day for aspartame. JECFA concluded that the evidence linking aspartame consumption to cancer in humans is “not convincing” at current levels of use.
  • Practical ADI: To exceed the JECFA/EFSA ADI of 40 mg/kg/day, an adult weighing 70 kilograms (approximately 154 pounds) would need to consume more than 9 to 14 cans of diet soft drink daily (assuming 200-300 mg of aspartame per can), without other aspartame sources. This demonstrates that typical consumption is well within safe limits.
  • Other Considerations: Aspartame breaks down into amino acids (phenylalanine and aspartic acid) and a small amount of methanol. It is not safe for individuals with phenylketonuria (PKU), a rare genetic disorder, due to their inability to metabolize phenylalanine. Some anecdotal reports and limited studies have explored potential links to headaches, dizziness or mood changes, but these findings are inconsistent and not definitively proven at typical consumption levels.

 

Sucralose: The Heat-Stable Sweetener

Sucralose, widely known as Splenda, is another popular artificial sweetener.

  • Regulatory Consensus: The FDA, EFSA and JECFA all approve sucralose as safe for the general population, including children and individuals with diabetes, when used under approved conditions. The established ADI is 5 mg per kilogram of body weight per day (5 mg/kg/day).
  • Heating and Baking Concerns: While sucralose is often marketed as heat-stable, some research suggests that at high temperatures (e.g., above 120°C or 250°F), it can break down and react with other ingredients to form potentially harmful chlorinated compounds. This area requires more definitive research.
  • Gut Microbiome: Studies on sucralose’s impact on the gut microbiome have yielded mixed results. Some animal and preliminary human studies suggest potential negative effects on beneficial gut bacteria at high doses or long-term consumption, while short-term human studies often show no significant impact.
  • Blood Sugar and Insulin: Generally, sucralose is considered to have minimal direct impact on blood sugar and insulin levels. However, some studies, particularly in individuals with obesity who are not accustomed to artificial sweeteners, have observed increases in blood sugar and insulin after sucralose consumption.
  • WHO Guidance: The WHO’s broader guidance in May 2023 discouraged the long-term use of non-sugar sweeteners for weight control, citing insufficient evidence of benefit and potential associations with increased risk of type 2 diabetes and cardiovascular diseases. This applies to sucralose as well.

 

Acesulfame Potassium (Ace-K): The Often-Paired Sweetener

Acesulfame K is frequently combined with other sweeteners to achieve a more sugar-like taste.

  • Regulatory Consensus: The FDA, EFSA, Health Canada and JECFA all deem Acesulfame K safe. The FDA and JECFA set the ADI at 15 mg/kg/day, while EFSA’s ADI is 9 mg/kg/day. To exceed the FDA’s ADI, a person weighing 150 pounds (68 kg) would need to consume more than 26 individual tabletop sweetener packets daily over their lifetime.
  • Cancer Risk: Early studies in the 1970s raised concerns about Acesulfame K’s potential carcinogenicity, but subsequent, more robust research has not consistently supported these findings in humans. While some recent observational studies have shown a slight association with overall cancer risk, these findings are not conclusive and do not prove causation.
  • Gut Microbiome and Metabolic Effects: Some animal studies suggest that Acesulfame K might alter gut flora and could be linked to weight gain and inflammation. However, human data is limited and the overall impact on blood sugar and insulin is generally considered minimal, though it’s part of the broader discussion on NSS and type 2 diabetes risk.

 

Saccharin: The Sweetener with a Past

Saccharin is one of the oldest artificial sweeteners, known for its distinct taste and controversial history.

  • Cancer Controversy Resolved: In the 1970s, studies linked high doses of saccharin to bladder cancer in rats. This led to warning labels. However, later research revealed that the mechanism of cancer development in rats was not relevant to humans. Consequently, saccharin was removed from carcinogen lists by the U.S. National Toxicology Program in 2000.
  • Current Safety: The FDA, WHO/JECFA and EFSA now consider saccharin safe for use as a food additive. The ADI is 5 mg/kg/day. An adult weighing 154 pounds (70 kg) could safely consume up to 350 mg of saccharin daily, far exceeding typical intake.
  • Gut Microbiome: Similar to other NSS, some studies have explored saccharin’s potential to disrupt the gut microbiome, but overall evidence is mixed and inconclusive.
  • Other Side Effects: Saccharin can sometimes leave a metallic or bitter aftertaste. Very high doses might lead to mild gastrointestinal issues.

 

Stevia: The “Natural” Sweetener

Stevia is often perceived as a healthier alternative because it’s derived from a plant.

  • Approved Form: It’s crucial to differentiate: only highly purified steviol glycosides (the sweet compounds extracted from the stevia leaf) are approved by major regulatory bodies like the FDA, JECFA, EFSA and Health Canada. Whole-leaf stevia or crude extracts are not approved due to insufficient safety data.
  • ADI: The ADI for steviol equivalents is generally 4 mg/kg/day, a generous amount that is difficult to exceed through normal consumption.
  • Gut Microbiome: Research on stevia’s impact on the gut microbiome is mixed. Some studies suggest potential benefits or no harm, while others raise questions, indicating a need for more human research.
  • Blood Sugar and Insulin: Stevia itself does not raise blood sugar or insulin levels, making it a popular choice for individuals managing diabetes.
  • Potential Benefits: Preliminary research suggests stevia may have antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties and some studies explore its potential benefits for blood pressure and kidney health. These areas require further robust human trials.
  • Digestive Issues: While generally well-tolerated, some stevia products may contain added sugar alcohols (like erythritol) that can cause digestive discomfort in sensitive individuals if consumed in large amounts.

 

Sorbitol: The Sugar Alcohol

Sorbitol is a polyol, a type of carbohydrate that is not fully absorbed by the body.

  • Regulatory Consensus: The FDA recognizes sorbitol as “Generally Recognized As Safe” (GRAS). JECFA has given it an “acceptable daily intake (ADI) of ‘not specified’,” which is the safest category, indicating no health hazard at levels necessary for its intended use.
  • Primary Side Effect: Digestive Issues: This is the most notable aspect of sorbitol. Because it’s incompletely absorbed, large amounts reaching the large intestine can be fermented by gut bacteria, leading to gas bloating, and a laxative effect. Foods containing significant amounts of polyols like sorbitol are often required to carry a warning about potential laxative effects.
  • Blood Sugar and Insulin: Sorbitol has a low glycemic index and a minimal impact on blood sugar levels, making it suitable for people with diabetes.
  • Dental Health: It is non-cariogenic (read this word carefully – it is not “carcinogenic”), meaning it does not promote tooth decay.
  • Other Considerations: Sorbitol is found naturally in some fruits. While generally safe, its primary limitation is the potential for gastrointestinal discomfort with higher consumption. Unlike some other artificial sweeteners, direct links to inflammation, cancer risk or hormone disruption are not primary concerns for sorbitol itself, though the broader category of sugar alcohols is continually studied.

The Sweet Conclusion: Moderation is Key

Artificial sweeteners, when consumed within recommended limits, are considered safe by all major health authorities worldwide. The scary headlines you see are often based on animal studies using unrealistically high doses or misinterpretations of risk classifications.

That said, no sweetener — artificial or natural — is a free pass for unlimited consumption. Artificial sweeteners may help with calorie reduction and blood sugar control, but they can also reinforce a preference for sweet flavors and lead to overconsumption of other high-calorie foods.

The scientific landscape surrounding artificial sweeteners is complex and constantly evolving. While regulatory bodies generally affirm their safety within established ADIs, ongoing research continues to explore potential long-term effects, particularly concerning the gut microbiome, metabolic health and the impact of high consumption.

For most people, consuming these sweeteners in moderation, as part of a balanced diet, is considered safe. However, they are not a magic bullet for health. They offer sweetness without calories, but they don’t provide the essential nutrients found in whole foods.

If you enjoy them occasionally, you’re fine. But if you’re downing a dozen diet sodas every day, it might be time to reassess, not because of cancer, but because it probably isn’t the healthiest habit overall.

The overarching message from health experts remains consistent: focus on reducing your overall intake of added sugars, whether from cane sugar, high-fructose corn syrup or artificial sweeteners. Opt for water and embrace the natural sweetness of fruits and vegetables. Making these smart choices will benefit your body far more in the long run than debating the nuanced differences between various sweeteners.

 

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Sweet Deception? Unpacking Coca-Cola’s Switch from HFCS to Cane Sugar

Posted on 2025-07-27 by The Narrator

There’s been a noticeable buzz in the media recently about Coca-Cola’s decision to sweeten some of its drinks with cane sugar instead of high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS). For many health-conscious consumers, this move feels like a positive step, a return to “natural” ingredients and a win in the ongoing debate about what we put into our bodies. But is this change truly as significant as it seems? Let’s dive into the nutritional science to understand the real difference.

Cane Sugar vs. High Fructose Corn Syrup: A Tale of Two Sweeteners

At first glance, the two sweeteners appear quite distinct.

  • Cane Sugar, chemically known as sucrose, is a disaccharide. This means it’s composed of two simpler sugar molecules – 50% glucose and 50% fructose – chemically bonded together, typically derived from sugarcane or sugar beets.
  • High Fructose Corn Syrup (HFCS), often referred to as isoglucose, is a liquid sweetener made from corn starch. The most common form used in beverages, HFCS 55, consists of approximately 55% fructose and 45% glucose. Unlike sucrose, the glucose and fructose in HFCS are not chemically bonded. They exist as free monosaccharides.
glucose (left) and fructose (right)

glucose (left) and fructose (right)

How Our Bodies Process Sweeteners

The minor structural difference between sucrose and HFCS leads to slightly different initial processing in the body, though the end result is largely similar.

When you consume cane sugar (sucrose), enzymes in your digestive system quickly break the bond, splitting it into its constituent glucose and fructose molecules. These then enter your bloodstream.

With HFCS, since the glucose and fructose are already separate, they don’t require this initial enzymatic breakdown. However, for all practical purposes, this difference in initial processing speed is often considered negligible in terms of overall absorption and metabolic impact in the grand scheme of digestion.

Once absorbed:

  • Glucose is the body’s preferred energy source. It enters the bloodstream directly and is transported to cells with the help of insulin, where it’s used for immediate energy or stored as glycogen.
  • Fructose is primarily metabolized in the liver. While some fructose can be used for energy, excess fructose, especially when consumed rapidly and in large quantities, can be converted into fat through a process called lipogenesis. This is why diets consistently high in fructose are linked to an increased risk of fatty liver disease and other metabolic issues.

Both glucose and fructose contribute to raising blood sugar levels. While glucose causes a more direct and rapid increase in blood sugar, the fructose component from either sweetener can contribute to metabolic stress, particularly on the liver, and potentially lead to insulin resistance over time if consumed in excess.

 

The Calorie Conundrum: Empty Calories

From a caloric perspective, both glucose and fructose provide roughly four calories per gram, which is standard for carbohydrates. For comparison, proteins also provide about four calories per gram, while fats are more calorie-dense at nine calories per gram.

The real problem with these sugars isn’t necessarily their caloric density compared to other macronutrients, but rather their lack of nutritional value. They are often referred to as “empty calories” because they provide energy without offering essential vitamins, minerals or fiber. It’s just a spoonful of calories, with no added benefit for your body’s vital functions.

The Bottom Line: Quantity Over Source

For all practical purposes, your body treats the glucose and fructose from cane sugar and HFCS very similarly once they are absorbed. Excess consumption of either can contribute to a range of health risks, including:

  • Weight gain and obesity: Consuming excess calories from added sugars can lead to weight gain.
  • Insulin resistance and Type 2 diabetes: Regularly consuming high amounts of added sugars can increase the risk of developing insulin resistance.
  • Cardiovascular risks: High sugar intake is linked to increased triglyceride levels and cardiovascular disease risk.
  • Fatty liver disease: Excessive fructose consumption can lead to fat accumulation in the liver.
  • Tooth decay: Both sweeteners provide fuel for bacteria in the mouth, contributing to tooth decay.

The argument that HFCS might be “worse” often stems from its prevalence in highly palatable, processed beverages that people tend to consume in large quantities without feeling satiated. This ease of overconsumption, rather than a fundamental difference in how the body processes the sugar molecules themselves, is what has made HFCS a target for health concerns. If there’s an argument that HFCS is “worse”, it’s mostly contextual: it’s cheaper and more prevalent in processed foods and drinks, which means people consume more of it.

Ultimately, Coca-Cola’s shift in sweetener is likely much ado about nothing from a health perspective. The core issue isn’t whether the sugar comes from a cane or a cornfield, but the sheer volume of added sugars in our diets. Both cane sugar and high-fructose corn syrup are added sugars with no inherent nutritional benefit. The small difference in their glucose-fructose ratio is generally not considered nutritionally significant when evaluating overall dietary impact.

So, when you see those bold advertising signs for Coke made with cane sugar, most likely at a premium price, remember the fundamental truth about added sugars. Instead of debating the merits of one “empty calorie” source over another, consider making the truly smart choice for your long-term health: pass on the spoonfuls of sugar and grab a bottle of water. While an occasional soft drink indulgence won’t ruin your health, making water your go-to beverage is one of the simplest, most impactful changes you can make for long-term wellness. So, skip the hype and maybe skip the soda. Your future self will thank you.

Glucose vs fructose infographic.

Glucose vs fructose infographic.

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AAA and the Afterlife

Posted on 2025-07-20 by The Narrator

I’ve been a loyal customer of AAA since dinosaurs roamed the Earth, or at least since I got my driver’s license, which some days feels like the same thing. Over the years, they’ve pulled me out of more jams than you find in a jar of Smucker’s: flat tires that materialized out of thin air, dead batteries that decided to stage a silent protest, phantom fuel gauges (it said I had 30 miles left…) and the occasional “my car just doesn’t feel like existing today” moments. I lost a fuel pump in the middle of a rescue mission once.

Seriously, the AAA roadside techs are modern-day knights, only instead of armor and horses, they rock steel-toe boots and arrive in trucks with more tools than Batman’s utility belt. I’m always grateful when one shows up, like a beacon of hope, to rescue me from whatever vehicular nonsense I’ve gotten myself into. Seriously, you guys are the best at what you do.

But then there’s the other side of AAA. The side that apparently believes my life is an endless, gaping void of unmet consumer needs, just waiting to be filled by whatever product rolls off their perpetually moving conveyor belt of offers. For all the noble rescuing, AAA also has this slightly clingy ex-girlfriend energy when it comes to selling me things I don’t want.

Out-of-season tires?
No thanks, unless I suddenly decide to rally race in February.

An oil change?
I have a guy for that. He smells like motor grease and coffee, but I trust him with my engine and the secrets I hide in my center console storage compartment.

Artisanal cheeses?
Is my car breaking down a sign that my charcuterie board is lacking? I’m picturing a tow truck pulling up and instead of jumper cables, the guy’s got a wedge of aged gouda. “Here, sir, for your troubles. Pairs wonderfully with a dead battery.” Seriously, will a wedge of brie fix a busted radiator?

Car insurance. Home insurance. Pet psychic recommendations. I mean, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if AAA offered me a subscription box called “Surprise Junk Trunk” for just $29.95 a month.

But this week… This week was special.  Nothing prepared me for this call. AAA called me, ever so thoughtful, to offer me life insurance.

Cue the ominous music.

Now, I’m not naive. I know life insurance is a real product that real people need. I also do search and rescue, so trust me when I say I’ve seen some weird stuff. Yes, weird, bad, totally-random-stuff happens. I’ve seen it all. If it were fiction, Stephen King would say, “Dial it back a bit.”

But it was the way they pitched it that got me.

The agent hit me with:
“You can try it free for 30 days, and if you like it, we’ll keep you in the program and bill you.”

Seriously? My brain did a full 360-degree spin, then backflipped into a philosophical abyss. I didn’t even need to think. The words just came out without considering the full ramifications of test-driving life insurance. With the most innocent tone I could muster, I asked:
“How would I know I like it? Without actually trying it, I mean?”

A long pause. A pause so long, I could hear the artisanal cheese aging in the background.
“Uh… what?”  I clearly threw him off his script.

Did I really have to explain this? “Like, how do I know I’m satisfied with your product unless I, you know, die and see how it goes?”

Another, even longer, more profound pause. I could hear the hamster wheel spinning in his head, probably squeaking under pressure, chasing that distant wedge of cheese.

“That’s not … how we mean it…” he finally managed, his voice a little strained.

Oh, but sure you do, buddy. If you’re offering me a “try before you buy” on a product whose core utility is only realized post-mortem, then yes, that’s exactly how you mean it. You’re giving me a trial period and the only way to experience the product is to kick the bucket. That doesn’t seem like a great selling point.

“Otherwise,” I continued helpfully, “you’re just offering me a free month on a 30-year commitment that only someone else gets to review. It’s not like Netflix where I can cancel after episode one.”

“So… can I sign you up?” You have to admire the tenacity. Did he just skip to the bottom of his script?

I passed. Respectfully. Some things, you just don’t want to “try out” to see if they’re a good fit.

If AAA wants to give me a free month of emergency pepper jack, I’m all in. I’ll give that a whirl. I’ll road test their cheeses for a month any day. But life insurance? Not something I’m interested in test-driving for obvious reasons.

I love AAA when my engine dies.  I’m less enthused when I have to die to make use of their latest offer.

Let’s stick to jumpstarts and spare tires, guys. And maybe, just maybe, a bonus wedge of cheddar on those more complicated rescues.

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Bluetooth or Bonkers – the Perilous Puzzle of Public Perception

Posted on 2025-07-12 by The Narrator

There was a time, not so long ago, when it was relatively easy to distinguish the eccentric from the executive. You’d be strolling down Main Street, enjoying your ice cream cone or contemplating your lunch options, when suddenly you’d spot that guy — arms flailing, voice booming, passionately arguing about alien conspiracies or asking the birds to repay a debt. You’d subtly (or not so subtly, depending on their volume) cross to the other side of the street. You’d let the “crazy people who talk to themselves” have their clear, unencumbered path, perhaps offering a silent nod of respectful avoidance. It was the polite thing to do, for both of you. It was a simpler time, a time of clear social indicators.

Back then, identifying the unsound mind was a community sport. “See a screamer, change your demeanor” was the unspoken rule. I used to be a master of street psychology. I’d stroll down the sidewalk, effortlessly categorizing passersby into two distinct groups: the sane and the, well, let’s just say “enthusiastic”. But now? Good luck! Those halcyon days are behind us. Now, I’m left scratching my head, wondering if the disheveled guy yelling at his earpiece is having a heated debate with his accountant or negotiating with the voices in his head. It’s like the world has decided to play a game of “Guess Who’s Sane?” and I’m perpetually losing.  My elementary school education emphasized the importance of eye contact and facial expressions. Apparently, those skills are now as useful as a flip phone in a smartphone world.

It started innocently enough with the rise of mobile phones. Sure, early adopters carried bricks the size of a shoebox and practically screamed “I own stock in IBM” as they yelled into their Motorola monstrosities. Clearly on the phone, clearly a titan of industry, probably coordinating a rendezvous with his personal jet-powered limo. No misperception there. You didn’t confuse them with the local bus stop philosopher. They were too well-dressed and, more importantly, tethered to their devices.

Then came the smartphones — sleek, tiny, barely visible. At first, you could still tell: people held them to their ears like civilized humans. But then the ultimate social disruptor arrived: the Bluetooth earpiece.

The Bluetooth. The bane of public perception. Suddenly, it wasn’t just the Tech Bros and the Wall Street Warriors talking into invisible microphones. It’s everyone. And now? Now, I pass someone on the street having a heated conversation with no person in sight, no phone visible, no context provided. He’s red-faced, gesturing wildly and pacing like he’s defusing a hostage situation. Do I call the cops? Offer a tissue? Applaud? I don’t know anymore!

It’s my inner conflict is coming across a disheveled, slightly portly gentleman. His arm is waving wildly, his voice loud, excited, perhaps even a tad indignant. He’s clearly in the midst of a passionate monologue. And I am utterly, hopelessly lost. Is he complaining to someone on the phone that may or may not be nestled in his back pocket? Is he having a heated debate with an invisible friend about the merits of artisanal cheese? Or is he, perhaps, just having a very spirited internal dialogue with that other person occupying the same body as he? The possibilities are endless and my internal “Crazy-o-Meter” is officially broken.

The problem is further complicated by our pandemic-era social skills erosion. We all spent two years perfecting our communication with emoji, thumbs-up reactions and muting ourselves on Zoom when we needed to issue that primal scream into the void. Now that we’re back outside, the old rules of facial expression and body language just don’t compute. Is that group laughing at a joke? Or have they joined a laughing cult and I’m their next target? It’s getting harder and harder to figure people out these days. Society, it seems, no longer functions like it used to. The subtle cues, the unspoken rules, the very fabric of public interaction has been replaced by a cacophony of potential conversations with unseen entities. And honestly, it makes interacting with people really, really hard.

I’m starting to think the only way to tell who’s sane anymore is by whether or not they make eye contact and even that could go either way. Is that grandmotherly woman giving me a kind smile? Or silently threatening me with her eyes?

We used to laugh at the thought of talking to ourselves in public. Now, we schedule time to record ourselves talking to ourselves, upload it to TikTok and hope it goes viral.

So what’s the takeaway here?

We’ve reached a point in civilization where you can’t tell the difference between someone on a conference call and someone on a conference call with a higher power (virtual or real), an imaginary friend or telepathic aliens. Technology has democratized insanity and I, for one, am not sure whether to be impressed or very, very afraid.

Is this the first step in the fall of civilization? Will we all eventually be wandering around, shouting into the void, unsure if anyone is actually listening? Or are we just part of a grand, collective, public performance art piece?

Next time you pass someone on the sidewalk loudly whispering about lizard people and hummus, maybe don’t judge. Maybe he’s just on a call with the National Security Council. Or maybe he knows something you really don’t want to. Either way, smile politely, nod and cross the street. Just to be safe.

 

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Freedom, Fireworks and Founding Fathers

Posted on 2025-07-04 by The Narrator

As the calendar pages turn towards July, a familiar tension begins to build in my solidly middle-class neighborhood. It’s not the anticipation of barbecues and parades, not entirely. It’s the low, rumbling dread of what’s to come: the unofficial, unsanctioned and utterly unhinged celebration of American independence.

In the days leading up to the Fourth of July and for a good few days after, my usually quiet street transforms. My neighbors, many of whom I’ve reluctantly come to mentally label as “hoodlum rednecks” (a term I use with a sigh, not a sneer, born of sheer exhaustion), seem to possess an arsenal that would make a modern Army platoon blush. They detonate more explosives than a small nation at war and they do it at seemingly random times of day. And night. There’s truly nothing quite like being jolted awake at two in the morning by a massive explosion, your heart pounding, wondering if that concussive blast outside your window warrants an emergency response or a psychiatric intervention.

Then comes the morning of July 5th. As an early riser, I often hit the bike trails to escape the lingering haze of gunpowder and regret. What I find is a landscape of post-apocalyptic revelry: tons of debris – plastic, cardboard, spent casings – from the previous night’s festivities. And, more alarmingly, the tell-tale scorched circles and blackened patches of grass where fireworks inevitably got out of control. It’s a stark, sobering tableau of celebration gone awry.

fireworks debris littering a neighborhood

fireworks debris littering a neighborhood

And there’s another, increasingly prevalent, issue: the rise of drunken revelry. While a celebratory drink is one thing, the sheer volume of intoxication that accompanies some of these Fourth of July celebrations leads to an amazing, and frankly, disgusting, amount of damage. This ranges from the random bodily fluid blowouts discovered on lawns and sidewalks (yes, really) to the more catastrophic consequences of impaired driving, resulting in cars wrapped around trees, often taking out other vehicles in their destructive wake.

Drive Smart Nebraska Campaign

Drive Smart Nebraska Campaign

All of this leaves me with a persistent, nagging question, one that echoes louder with each premature bang and each piece of litter: Is this what our Founding Fathers truly envisioned as the celebration of our country’s founding?

I try to imagine John Adams, penning a letter to Abigail, describing the future of American festivity. Would he speak of skies ablaze with uncontrolled pyrotechnics, shaking the very foundations of homes at ungodly hours? Would Thomas Jefferson, in his quiet contemplation, foresee a nation celebrating its intellectual and political liberation with widespread public intoxication and property destruction? Would Benjamin Franklin, ever the pragmatist, nod approvingly at the sheer waste of resources, the environmental blight and the strain on emergency services?

Picture this: 1776, Philadelphia. Thomas Jefferson leans back in his chair, quill in hand, wiping ink from his fingers, as he pens the final lines of the Declaration of Independence. John Adams walks in, pausing to admire the document before saying, “Tom, you know what this calls for? Barely regulated explosives, public intoxication and someone vomiting on a flaming slip-n-slide in a Walmart parking lot! Should we write it in?”

It’s safe to say that didn’t happen. Yet here we are.

Writing the Declaration of Independence, 1776, by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris

Writing the Declaration of Independence, 1776, by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris

The Fourth of July is supposed to commemorate the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, a bold thoughtful stand for liberty and self-governance, rooted in reason, justice and human dignity. It was a turning point in the history of the world, the birth of a new nation, an experiment in democracy. But as I weave through my neighborhood on July 5th dodging firework debris, spotting blackened patches of scorched lawn and noting the charred remnants of Roman candles like some post-battle historian, I can’t help but wonder: What happened to the reverence?

The spirit of 1776 was one of profound thought, courageous debate and a deep, if sometimes flawed, commitment to principles of liberty, self-governance and the pursuit of a more perfect union. The Declaration of Independence, the very document we celebrate, is not a call to chaotic abandon. It’s a meticulously reasoned argument for freedom, a testament to the power of ideas and a solemn pledge of lives, fortunes and sacred honor.

While John Adams famously predicted that Independence Day would be celebrated with “pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illuminations from one end of this continent to the other,” I believe his vision was one of ordered celebration, of communal joy and a respectful remembrance of the immense sacrifice involved. He envisioned citizens uniting in gratitude and shared purpose, not descending into a cacophony of random explosions and dangerous recklessness. The “illuminations” he spoke of were likely grand, controlled displays, not backyard arsenals threatening life and limb.

Our independence was hard-won, built on the ideals of self-control, civic responsibility and the collective good. It was about establishing a society where rights were protected and order prevailed, allowing for the flourishing of individuals and communities. To celebrate this profound legacy with actions that endanger our neighbors, pollute our shared spaces and strain our public services feels, to me, deeply antithetical to the very principles we claim to honor.

So, as we approach this Fourth of July, I want to urge everyone reading this to celebrate responsibly. Stay safe, be mindful of your neighbors, your environment and the laws designed to protect us all. But most importantly, take a moment to truly remember the actual meaning of Independence Day. It’s a day to reflect on the ideals of liberty, the responsibilities that come with freedom and the ongoing work required to build a more just and perfect society. Let our celebrations be a testament to our values, not a chaotic caricature of them. After all, freedom isn’t just the right to party. It’s the right to be better.

 

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The New Power Suit

Posted on 2025-06-29 by The Narrator

When I was in graduate school, I landed a job with an international corporation.  It was suit and tie and I loved it.  I wasn’t just pretending to be an adult.  I made it.  I was the first of my high school friends to go corporate, but by the time they were in the same position, I was getting a little bothered under the collar.  Suits, for some reason, are not designed to be comfortable (or maybe I just don’t know how to pick them).  I was looking forward to those casual Fridays when the jacket did not need to match the pants and instead of sporting a sensible tie, the top button of my shirt could be undone.

I’m still corporate, working for a very different international corporation, and all these years later corporate dress has changed.  My business attire these days is a clean pair of boots, Columbia Sportswear’s Titanium or Silver Ridge pants (with Omni-Shade) and a company logoed polo.  I’m pushing the dress code limits, but no one dares complain because I’m “flying the company flag”. Going after my pants and shoes would be unpatriotic.

And yet, much as I feel I’m pushing corporate culture, it doesn’t feel like I’ve kept up.  On a recent crisp early morning, the sun barely awake, I was pedaling along on my trusty bicycle, dodging squirrels and misplaced sprinklers. That’s when I saw her: a woman walking her dog in full pajama regalia — flannel pants, fuzzy slippers and a sleepy top that proudly proclaimed, “Don’t Talk to Me Before Coffee”. Classic. Functional. Confusing. When I was a kid, even contemplating going outside before washing up and putting on appropriate clothes would get me grounded for the day. Definitely confusing.

I chalked it up to a quirky start-of-day ritual. After all, who among us hasn’t shuffled out in sleepwear to grab the paper (when we still read those) or chase down a runaway trash can (before we started recycling just about everything)? Except we were in a city park, a significant distance from homes. I told myself that I get it. Sometimes the dog just has to go and formal wear is not a priority.

But then, like an oddly patterned domino effect, it kept happening.  Maybe it’s just recency bias, but all of a sudden, I started noticing it.

Later that same day, I saw another pajama-clad citizen perusing the cereal aisle of my local grocery store. She was calm, composed and contemplating an assortment of wheat bran cereals, to go with the carton of almond milk in her cart. She seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact she was in Cookie Monster pants and bunny slippers. I almost suggested that maybe she should check out the Cookie Crisp cereal boxes a few feet away.

But that wasn’t the conclusion of my recency bias experience. A few days later, at the airport, boarding a commercial flight, was a woman in what could only be described as satin bedtime finery. She didn’t glance sideways. She didn’t smirk. No shame, no irony. Just a woman, a neck pillow and what appeared to be a matching pajama-travel set. She was sauntering down the jet bridge, carry-on rolling behind her, looking utterly unbothered.

We are in the era of the Pajama Culture and I don’t really know what that means. When did this sneak up on us? Somewhere between Zoom meetings and home baking, society decided that comfort supersedes convention. If we’re going to be exhausted and emotionally overdrawn, at least we can do it in flannel.

And to be fair, pajama tech has come a long way. These aren’t your grandma’s ankle-length nightgowns. We’re talking microfleece, bamboo cotton, athleisure hybrids and enough elastic waistband innovation to make the space program jealous.

There appears to be a social shift that pajamas are no longer just for sleeping. They’re for thriving. Walking the dog? PJs. Getting groceries? PJs. Brunch? You bet your bunny slippers.

Is it a quiet rebellion against the pressures of adulting? Is it the natural evolution of fashion after athleisure? Is it rebellion against Puritan upbringing? I hazard to guess that it’s a slippery slope for someone thinking, “For tonight’s gala, I’ll be wearing my finest penguin-print jammies and a tiara.” Could pajamas become formal wear? Picture the red-carpet interviews:

Reporter: “Tell us, who are you wearing tonight?”
Starlet: “Target, from the Cozy Nights collection. These cloud-print drawstring pants are machine washable and fierce.”

Honestly? A decade ago I would have called this a far-fetched fantasy, but now I’m leerily eyeing this fashion trend. We’re just one pair of monogrammed sleep pants away from full pajama diplomacy.  I can see it now: late night boardroom meetings resembling a slumber party, the evening news reporters talking about the day’s game results while wearing pajamas in the style of their favorite teams, the district judge trading his court robes for a more comfortable, albeit more awkward fleece nightgown, with a frilly trim.

Are we abandoning all sense of decency? Are we embracing the “I don’t care about your opinion” attitude? Are pajamas the new formal wear? I’m not sure what’s more alarming – the fact that people are wearing pajamas in public or the fact that it’s becoming increasingly acceptable.

Is Star Wars doing this to us? Let’s be honest, every Jedi Knight looks like they just walked out of a galactic pajama party. Robes, tunics and that “I hit snooze five times” hairstyle. No wonder the galaxy’s always on the brink of collapse. You can’t fight the Sith with bedhead and bathroom slippers. And yet, somehow, it works. Maybe that’s the secret. The more comfortable you are, the stronger the Force flows. Or maybe it’s just a cautionary tale. If you give up fashion for comfort, you might end up raising a Darth.

I need to go back and reread my college history books to recall how the Roman Empire fell. Sleepwear might have been a factor.

La morte di Cesare by Vincenzo Camuccini

La morte di Cesare by Vincenzo Camuccini

In a world filled with chaos, perhaps the rise of pajamas is our collective protest for peace and quiet and harmony. A silent, but comfy rebellion against belts, buttons and all things restrictive. The next time you see someone pushing a shopping cart in their bedtime best, don’t scoff. Bellbottoms have been teetering for a while.  Perhaps these people are pioneers of a new lifestyle.

I should check with HR. Would pajamas with a collar count as “business casual”?

 

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Why Sometimes Doing Nothing is Pure Genius

Posted on 2025-06-14 by The Narrator

Not long ago a friend nearing retirement confided in me with a heavy heart, his voice carrying a note of genuine surprise, a blend of disappointment and some bewilderment. While the market had soared in recent years, his retirement portfolio was disappointingly flat. With just a few questions, the picture became clearer: he had entrusted a significant portion of his hard-earned savings to a company specializing in actively managed funds.

It’s a frustrating irony. During a period when the S&P 500 had made generous strides, he saw little benefit. The culprit? High fees, frequent trading and a lack of long-term discipline, hallmarks of the churning of securities held in actively managed funds. This means frequent buying and selling, which translates directly into short-term capital gains taxes and a steady stream of trading fees for the fund managers, all piled on top of already hefty management fees.

His experience is a stark reminder of the importance of low-cost, passive investing strategies. It’s a common tale and my friend’s experience is not unique. It serves as a powerful, albeit painful, reminder of some fundamental investing truths. So, grab a metaphorical (or actual) low-cost index fund and let’s delve into the lessons.

Warren Buffett’s Million-Dollar Bet

Let’s start with the undisputed heavyweight champion of common-sense investing, Mr. Warren Buffett. Back in 2007, the Oracle of Omaha, known for his down-to-earth wisdom and deep pockets, made a $1 million wager that a simple, low-cost S&P 500 index fund would outperform a curated selection of hedge funds over a decade.

Ted Seides of Protégé Partners, was brave enough to take on Buffett. He accepted the challenge by selecting five hedge funds. Surely, staffed by brilliant minds armed with complex algorithms and insider insights, these funds stood a chance to take down Warren Buffett himself. Their competitor was the meek Vanguard 500, an S&P 500 index fund, a fund that just buys a tiny piece of every company in the S&P 500 and calls it a day. No fancy footwork, no expensive suits.

The result? By 2017, plowing through the housing bubble market meltdown, the Vanguard 500 had delivered an average annual return of about 7.1%. The high-flying hedge fund portfolio? A rather deflated 2.2%. Over ten years that’s a lag of 60% on your investment!

Seides, a gentleman to the core, conceded before the bet officially concluded. Buffett won, proving that, for most investors, the silent killer isn’t market volatility, but the incessant, corrosive drip of fees. After fees, taxes and trading costs, even highly paid professionals, the smartest men in the room, have trouble outperforming the market. For most investors, a low-cost, diversified index fund is not just sufficient — it’s optimal.

 

The Dangers of Overtrading

You’d think after seeing the professionals stumble, individual investors would learn to keep their hands in their pockets. But human nature, bless its optimistic (and often delusional) heart, tends to believe we are different. We’re luckier, smarter, better suited to make investing decisions.

Academics Brad Barber and Terrance Odean studied individual investor behavior and published their now-famous work: “Trading Is Hazardous to Your Wealth”. Now you know that if a study title sounds like a warning label on a pack of cigarettes, you’re in for some fun facts.

Using actual trading data from 1991 to 1996, Barber and Odean found that individuals who traded stocks frequently experienced substantially lower returns than those who adopted a more patient approach. While the overall market was returning a robust 17.9% annually, the most active traders were clocking in at a rather pedestrian 11.4%. Over five years, that’s a beat by a third.

Why the shortfall? Active traders’ returns are often eroded by transaction costs, taxes and emotional decision-making. We think we’re smarter than the market, better at picking winners and quicker to react. But in reality, all that “action” just racks up transaction costs and taxes, slowly but surely eating away at any potential gains. It’s like constantly re-arranging the furniture in your house to “optimize flow” but having to pay a moving crew every time. Eventually, you’ve spent more on movers than the house is worth.

The study’s findings suggest that overconfidence bias can lead to excessive trading, resulting in poor performance. This study aligns with what my friend experienced: a well-meaning, but ultimately costly attempt to “beat the market” through an active strategy turned into a lesson in the dangers of over-management.

 

The Case of the Dead Investors

And now, for the most delightfully morbid, yet profoundly wise, investing lesson of all: the infamous Fidelity Investments study. One of the more ironic investing insights comes from an internal Fidelity study. It found that the accounts with the best performance over a 10-year period (2003–2013) belonged to investors who were either dead or had forgotten they even had an account.

Yes, you read that right. The market’s titans weren’t hedge fund managers or hyperactive day traders. They were literally six feet under, or busy living their lives, oblivious to their brokerage statements being mailed to the wrong address.

Why this macabre success?

  • No Costs, No Taxes: When you’re deceased or forgetful, you’re not trading. No trading means no transaction fees and no short-term capital gains taxes. It’s the ultimate low-cost, tax-efficient strategy.
  • Pure Compounding Power: These “dead” or “distracted” investors inherently adopted a “buy and hold” approach. Their investments were left untouched, allowing the magic of compounding to work its uninterrupted wonders over years, sometimes decades.
  • Immunity to Emotional Myopia: The market is a rollercoaster of fear and greed. Active investors are constantly tempted to sell during downturns (fear!) or buy into speculative bubbles (greed!). Our deceased or forgetful friends, however, were immune to these pitfalls. They simply weren’t around (or aware) to panic sell or to chase fleeting trends.

These individuals succeeded not because of genius strategy, but precisely because they did nothing. They didn’t panic-sell during downturns. They didn’t chase the latest fads. They didn’t fiddle.

In other words, inaction became a strategy and it outperformed most investors who tried to time the market or tweak their portfolios into perfection.

Best Practices for Long-Term Investing

What can we learn from all this? These lessons highlight the importance of patience, discipline and low costs in investing. Whether you’re a seasoned investor or just getting started, here are some key takeaways to build the foundation of your investment strategy:

  • Costs matter. High fees and transaction costs are silent killers of long-term returns. Syphoning away just 1% of your return over ten years adds up to a loss of 10%. And with a fund that eats away a “negligible” 3% every year, thirty years later your losses are 2.3 times more than what your gains could have been.  That’s a difference of $100,000 on an initial $10,000 investment!
  • Time in the market beats timing the market. Chasing performance or predicting downturns rarely works. Resist the urge to constantly tinker with your portfolio. Frequent trading is a wealth destroyer. Avoid reacting to short-term market noise. Adopt a “buy and hold” mindset, making adjustments only when your financial goals or life circumstances fundamentally change. Think in decades, not days.
  • Diversify and simplify. Broad index funds are often more effective than complex actively managed fund structures. These funds offer broad diversification and lower fees compared to actively managed funds.
  • Don’t overlook behavior. Avoid excessive trading, which can lead to higher costs, taxes and poor performance. Investor psychology — fear, greed, impatience — is often the greatest risk to your portfolio.
  • Automate and Forget (Almost): Set up automatic contributions to your retirement accounts and investment vehicles. Then, periodically review your overall asset allocation (maybe once a year, or after significant life events), but avoid daily or weekly checking. The less you react to market noise, the better.

By embracing these principles, investors can increase their chances of success and achieve their long-term financial goals. As the evidence suggests, sometimes the best investment strategy is simply to adopt a hands-off approach and let time work in your favor.

 

The Path to Investment Serenity

My friend’s story is painful, but instructive. It is a cautionary tale that provides invaluable wisdom. In a time when simply being in the market would have meant strong gains, he paid the price, literally, for chasing complexity. In the world of the intricate financial landscape, sometimes the most genius move isn’t about outsmarting the market, but simply about getting out of its way.

Investing doesn’t have to be exciting to be effective. In fact, boring is often better. If you understand your strategy, keep your costs low and stay disciplined. The odds are already stacked in your favor. The market rewards patience, not performance-chasing. And sometimes the best action is no action at all.

Here’s to simple strategies, low fees and, perhaps, a touch of healthy neglect when it comes to your investments. Your future self (and potentially your beneficiaries) will thank you.

 

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Low Moon, Big Drama

Posted on 2025-06-10 by The Narrator

Every June the full moon rises over fields and forests and the world collectively swoons over the “Strawberry Moon”, a name that dates back to Algonquin tribes, who marked the ripening of wild strawberries with this particular lunar cycle. Normally, this moon is simply another bright sphere in the night sky, but in June 2025, it’s not just sweet. It’s cosmically rare.

It’s participating in one of the Moon’s rarest and most dramatic acts: a Major Lunar Standstill. Yes, that’s a real astronomical thing and not just a yoga pose or a 70s rock band. So, what’s really going on in the sky this June and why is this Strawberry Moon more than just your average fruit-flavored lunar treat?

The last time it happened was back in 2006. Miss it in 2025, and your next chance won’t come around until 2043. So grab your camera, clear your schedule and maybe practice saying “wow” dramatically, because the Moon is about to put on a serious show.

First, let’s start with the basics. Every June we get a “Strawberry Moon”, named not for its color, but for its timing, when wild strawberries ripen. But in 2025, this full Moon is also aligned with a cosmic event that’s about as rare as a unicorn moonwalking across the sky: a Major Lunar Standstill.

So what exactly is a Major Lunar Standstill? Let’s get a bit nerdy. The Moon’s orbit is tilted by about 5.1 degrees compared to Earth’s orbit around the Sun. That tilt, plus Earth’s own 23.5 degree lean, means the Moon doesn’t rise and set in the exact same spot every day. Over time, its path across the sky wobbles like a slowly tipping spinning top. From this you get a lunar drift that makes the Moon’s position in the sky vary across the month and year. Sometimes it rises farther north, sometimes farther south. Sometimes it takes a high arc across the sky and sometimes it drags its heels just above the horizon, like a teenager being asked to mow the lawn.

Now here’s where it gets interesting: over an 18.6-year cycle, the extremes of the Moon’s rising and setting points shift back and forth. The biggest swing, the major lunar standstill, is when the Moon reaches its furthest north and south positions on the horizon. In practical terms, it rises and sets in the most extreme parts of the sky and in June 2025, it will be at its lowest point in that cycle when the full moon rises.

When the Moon sits low on the horizon, our brains play a neat little trick called the Moon Illusion. Compared to objects like trees, houses or mountains on the horizon, the Moon appears enormous. It’s not actually bigger, just optically pumped up.

Combine that with the Strawberry Moon’s already gorgeous golden glow as it rises in June twilight and you’ve got yourself a celestial spectacle worth cancelling your Netflix night over.

And the next one? You’ll be older. Possibly wiser. This kind of extreme Moon won’t come back until 2043. By then, who knows where you’ll be? Maybe retired. Maybe with grandkids. Maybe living on the Moon (okay, maybe not). But one thing’s for sure: you won’t get another chance like this for almost two decades.

So this June, as the Moon rises low and large, take a moment to just stare. Share it with a friend. Snap a picture. Say something poetic. Or just whisper, “Good heavens, that’s a big Moon.”

Because it really, truly will be.

So, on June 10th (or whenever it’s peaking in your local time zone), find a spot with an unobstructed view of the horizon. Pack a picnic and prepare to witness a truly exceptional Strawberry Moon, a rare celestial ballet that’s putting on its lowest, largest performance in nearly twenty years. Don’t miss the Moon’s big “limbo” moment!

 

The Ballad of the Strawberry Moon

Oh, rise up slow, sweet lunar tune,
You berry-blushed and bashful Moon,
A low-hung lamp on twilight’s thread,
With cheeks of pink and dreams of red.

You skim the hills with glowing grace,
A ribbon tied ‘round evening’s face.
The fireflies hum, the crickets swoon,
It’s story time beneath the Moon.

No strawberry fields up in the sky,
Yet there you hang, so round and shy.
The farmers smile, the berries bloom,
For June has brought the Strawberry Moon.

The owls all hoot, the coyotes croon,
To welcome back their crescent boon.
But oh! this year, you’re extra sly,
You barely even scrape the sky!

A lunar standstill, so they say,
You crouch and creep and flirt with hay.
And through this rare, celestial tune,
You wink at Earth, a flirty Moon.

No spaceship ride, no high balloon,
Could bring us closer than this June.
So grab a quilt, go sit out soon,
And raise a toast to the Strawberry Moon.

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Posterior Pride: A Deep Dive in the Crack in the System

Posted on 2025-06-07 by The Narrator

Let’s be honest, folks. When that persistent “drip… drip… drip…” starts emanating from under your kitchen sink, a primal fear grips the soul. One minute you’re rinsing out your coffee mug, the next you’re knee-deep in an under-the-cabinet puddle, wondering what lurking creatures are about to exit your plumbing system. It’s the harbinger of watery doom, a tiny leak threatening to escalate into a full-blown indoor swimming pool. And who do we call in our hour of need? The noble plumber, the tried-and-true, battle-hardened, wrench-wielding wizard of the waterworks, that steadfast warrior against the relentless march of moisture.

These heroes of the home arrive with a toolbox that looks like it’s survived three apocalyptic world wars and an encyclopedic knowledge of joints and fittings. There’s a certain comfort in their expertise, isn’t there? The way they confidently saunter in, diagnose the issue, the practiced twist of their wrench, the almost magical way they can coax stubborn pipes into submission. You breathe a sigh of relief, knowing your aquatic anxieties are in capable hands.

But then… there it is. The phenomenon. The legend. The unmistakable flash of the cringeworthy plumber’s crack. Yes, the plumber’s crack. That iconic half-moon salute to chaos and craftsmanship. Part folklore, part fashion faux pas, 100% unavoidable. Some say it’s accidental. Others claim it’s a rite of passage. Many believe it’s a badge of honor. And their timing is always perfect. It’s like they have a sixth sense for precisely how much of their “plumbing expertise” they can reveal while working under the sink.

Is it a rite of passage? A bold declaration of “I’m a plumber, hear me roar”, although that’s not the common sound emanating from that end. Are they daring you to find out if they put on underwear that particular morning? Or is it just a side effect of years spent working in cramped, poorly lit spaces, where the only thing more abundant than pipe joints is questionable fashion sense?

Think about it, when was the last time you saw an electrician or a carpenter sporting a similar “look”? Never, right? But plumbers? It’s like they’re trying out for a role in a buddy cop movie: “Plumber in the Hood”.

Now, I’m not here to shame anyone’s anatomy. We’re all built differently and gravity is a relentless mistress. Let’s be honest, bending over a sink cabinet that was obviously designed for hobbits requires a level of contortion that rivals Olympic gymnasts. Something’s gotta give. And usually, it’s the waistband. But what is it with this seemingly ingrained aspect of the plumbing profession? Is it some sort of unspoken uniform? A secret handshake of the wrench-wielding elite? A subtle form of rebellion against the tyranny of belt loops?

You see it everywhere. Bending over to tighten a valve? Crack. Reaching deep into the abyss of your under-sink cabinet? Crack. Even just standing there, contemplating the labyrinth of pipes, there’s a distinct possibility of a rogue glimpse.

Is there a Plumbers’ Union meeting where they discuss optimal crack exposure? Do they get extra points for achieving maximum visibility? Is there a “Crack of the Month” award? I have so many questions and yet, I’m simultaneously terrified of the answers.

Let’s face it, there are belts. There are suspenders. Heck, there are entire overalls built to combat the crack epidemic. But ask any seasoned plumber and they’ll tell you, once you’re elbow-deep in rusted pipes and mystery gunk, dignity takes a backseat.

Perhaps it’s a purely practical matter. Belts can get in the way, restrict movement when contorting into those pretzel-like positions plumbers often find themselves in. Maybe it’s a subconscious way of aerating the lower back after hours spent in damp, confined spaces. Or perhaps, just perhaps, it’s a subtle reminder that even in the most serious of situations (like your kitchen slowly becoming a bog), there’s always room for a little… cheeky humor.

It’s clearly a cultural phenomenon. The plumber’s crack has been referenced in movies, cartoons and sitcoms. It’s even inspired Halloween costumes. Somewhere out there, someone probably has a bumper sticker that says “Respect the Crack”.

I’ve tried to understand. I’ve pondered the physics, the ergonomics, the very sociological implications of this ubiquitous sight. And you know what I’ve concluded? I have absolutely no idea. I simply can’t crack it.

But here’s the thing: despite the occasional unintentional peek at the plumber’s personal landscape, I’m still incredibly grateful for their skills. They brave the murky depths of our plumbing systems, wrestling with leaky faucets and clogged drains so we don’t have to. They are the unsung heroes of household maintenance.

So, to all the wonderful, experienced plumbers out there who have saved my sanity (and my flooring): thank you. Thank you for your expertise, your dedication and your ability to stop that infernal drip. And while we’re at it, maybe consider a slightly higher rise in those trousers? Just a thought. For the sake of personal plumbing aesthetics. And my slightly traumatized retinas.

And if all else fails and your gaze is drawn to that familiar flash, don’t recoil. Salute it. It means help has arrived, because let’s face it, all wisecracks aside, getting the grizzled veteran plumber to cover up might just be a pipedream.

Stay dry, folks! And maybe, just maybe, offer a belt as a tip.

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The Joy, the Sweat and the Suffering: A Cyclist’s Story

Posted on 2025-06-02 by The Narrator

There’s a unique kind of magic in the hum of tires on asphalt, the wind in your face and the rhythmic push and pull of pedals. For me, the bicycle has been a lifelong companion, a constant source of joy and challenge since my parents gifted me my very first fat-wheeled, training-wheeled equipped steed at the tender age of three. It handled more like a Tonka truck than a precision machine, but that early fascination, upgraded to a dirt bike-esque machine by age seven or eight, give me some serious neighborhood range. Eventually, when I could make my own decisions, I upgraded to a proper road bike. Sleek, fast and unforgiving, a bike that hums when you’re in the zone and tattles on you when you’re not.

I’m an avid bicyclist, not in the leisurely “let’s cruise through the park” kind of way, but in the “let’s spend a weekend riding 100 miles and call that fun” kind of way. In a good year, I am easily pushing past the 5,000-mile mark. That’s enough to pedal from New York to Los Angeles and still have the legs to swing back through Vegas for a snack. This commitment isn’t just about numbers. It’s about the sheer love of cycling, the feeling of freedom, the physical exertion and the mental clarity that only comes from hours spent on two wheels. It’s a connection to the environment, a rolling meditation and a constant test of endurance.

This year, however, has been a tougher ride than most, even before factoring in the miles. Between the relentless demands of work, the unpredictable call of search and rescue duties and the beautiful chaos of family life, time has been a precious commodity. And when I have found a sliver of free time, the weather hasn’t always been cooperative. Wind, rain and cold temperatures have conspired to keep the bike indoors when I wanted to be out.

But then, yesterday happened. It was a gran fondo opportunity and the call of the road was simply too strong to ignore. “Gran fondo” is a French-Italian blend that loosely translates to “big ride” and these events live up to their name. They are not your average Sunday loops around the neighborhood. They are endurance tests for the bicycling community. The smallest ones push riders to complete a metric century, 100 kilometers or 62 miles. But many fondi stretch far beyond that, challenging cyclists with distances of up to 150 miles, or more, enough to question your sanity, hydration and life choices all at once. The beauty of a fondo is that it’s rarely a race. The primary goal isn’t to beat others, but simply to finish the ride, to conquer the distance and the elements and to prove your own resilience, mostly to yourself. My personal best season was a few years back when I completed a dozen fondi in a single year, each one a testament to personal grit and the camaraderie of the road with its own flavors of suffering, triumph and scenic glory. They’re the Tour de Personal Growth.

Yesterday’s fondo started out idyllic. The morning air was crisp, temperatures hovering comfortably in the 60s, with barely a whisper of wind. It was the kind of perfect start that makes you fall in love with cycling all over again. But as the day wore on, Mother Nature decided to turn up the dial. The winds picked up and with them, the temperatures soared. My trusty bicycle computer, a silent witness to the ordeal, logged an average temperature of 91 degrees, with a brutal peak of 109 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s not “warm”. That’s “bake a lasagna on your handlebars” hot. Riding in that kind of heat feels less like a hobby and more like a crazy dare.

Riding in conditions like that transforms the experience entirely. It’s no longer about gliding effortlessly. It becomes a raw battle against the elements. A hot wind, blasting like a furnace, makes every pedal stroke a monumental effort, sucking the joy out of the ride and replacing it with a relentless, dehydrating assault. It’s why you start to see riders pull over, seeking shade, or simply calling it a day when they stop at aid stations. And then there’s me, stubborn as ever, grinding away under a furnace blast like a Tour de France competitor on day 19 of a desert stage. Conditions like those are profoundly unfriendly, pushing the human body to its absolute limits.

Despite the escalating discomfort, I managed to finish the ride. I crossed that invisible line of completion, but not without paying a price. I probably checked off every symptom of heat exhaustion on WebMD along the way. The aftermath was telling: I guzzled three liters of ice-cold water, like a man who’d just survived the Sahara, a desperate attempt to rehydrate and cool my core. And in a rare, departure from my usual dietary discipline, I devoured a pint of ice cream. I’m not anti-ice cream by any means, but rarely do I consume that much in one sitting. Desperate times call for creamy reinforcements. This time, it was less about indulgence and more about survival, a delicious and essential intervention to bring my core temperature down.

A good fondo, even in normal conditions, can easily burn three days’ worth of calories, if not more, so the caloric intake wasn’t the issue. In fact, any potential caloric guilt was conveniently left behind at least a dozen miles short of the finish line. Even after all that fluid and ice cream, my weight was still down 6% from the day before. That’s not “I lost a little water weight”. That is dehydration with a vengeance, pure and simple, and a stark confirmation of the heat exhaustion theory.

My experience yesterday underscores a critical message for anyone exercising, especially in extreme conditions: get out there and exercise, but always, always manage your body’s response to the environment. Listen to its signals. Hydrate intelligently. And whatever you do, please, don’t use me as a benchmark for anything! Especially not when it’s 109 degrees out. I do search and rescue as a hobby. I’ve pulled plenty of exhausted, dehydrated, heat stressed individuals from all sorts of environments. I can see our medical lead looking me in the eyes, saying, “you know better than that, you idiot!”

Cycling has been with me longer than most friendships and it taught me more about persistence, patience and porta-potties than I care to admit. I love it. I live it. I hurt myself for it. And somehow, I come back smiling. My dedication to the saddle might sometimes override common sense, a testament to the deep love I have for this sport, but not necessarily a wise example to follow. The open road, whether bathed in golden sunlight or blistering under a scorching sun, continues to call and as long as it does, I’ll keep answering, learning and sharing the wild, wonderful and sometimes utterly insane journey of an avid bicyclist.

 

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