McDonald’s Monopoly Is Back After 10 Years — And I’m Lovin’ It

So just when I think I’m out… they pull me back in.

McDonald’s is once again running their Monopoly game — something they haven’t done in ten years! And just like that, I’m back in line at the golden arches.

Back in the day, I was going to eat breakfast at McDonald’s most mornings anyway. But when the Monopoly game rolled around? Oh, that changed everything. I’d head straight inside, grab one of those big paper game boards printed on the back of the placemats, and start peeling those little stickers off my Egg McMuffin wrappers, hash brown sleeves, and drink cups like a man on a mission.

No, I never hit the million-dollar jackpot (still waiting, Ronald), but I did rack up my fair share of free burgers, fries, cookies, and pies. There was something electric about it — that mix of caffeine, breakfast grease, and the faint hope you might pull Park Place. It became a whole vibe I looked forward to every year.

And really, what’s not to love? You’re entertained, there’s something fun to do, and there’s always that shot at winning money or prizes. It’s not exactly a retirement plan, but it’s fun to dream for a minute or two. Like they say — you’ve got to be in it to win it.

But here’s the twist: I was never a huge Monopoly fan as a kid.

I mean, I am and I’m not. It’s a great slice of Americana, and the concept makes sense. But as a shy, well-behaved little kid who loved board games, I made the mistake of joining a family game once when my aunts, uncles, and cousins were all gathered at my grandma’s house.

I was just excited to roll the dice, move my little pewter dog around the board, and flip those colorful cards that showed Mr. Monopoly floating out of jail with angel wings or suddenly striking it rich. I wasn’t out to crush anyone — I just wanted to play.

So when I landed on Boardwalk, which my uncle owned, and had to hand over every last pretend dollar while everyone laughed at how “broke” I was, it crushed my little six-year-old heart. I don’t think I ever played Monopoly again after age nine or ten.

Still, I admired the game. I just chose not to play it. So when it got paired with my love for McDonald’s? All bets were off.

Which brings me to now. I don’t need to eat McDonald’s every day — or even every week. But let’s be real, I can always justify grabbing a coffee and an Egg McMuffin on the way to work. It’s practically the healthiest fast-food breakfast sandwich out there — full of protein and actual nutrients (especially if you skip the cheese).

But like I’ve said before, I know myself. If they run out of promotional cups, you might not get game pieces with your drink. They used to be well stocked on the sandwich wrappers that had them, but I’m not sure if that’s still a thing. One sure bet, though, was always the hash brown wrapper — that’s where I could always count on getting a game piece.

These days, though, I usually skip the hash browns. Fried starches are a bad combo for anyone, but especially for someone my age. Same goes for fries — I’d rather have an extra burger than pummel my arteries with a salty pile of regret.

So maybe I’ll do a couple full meals over the next month, maybe find a slower McDonald’s location that’s still stocked with all the special cups and wrappers. I don’t know how far I’ll go with it this year — maybe I’ll just play once or twice for old time’s sake, just to bring back that feeling that meant so much over the years.

McDonald’s has really been hitting on all cylinders lately with the retro vibes, and I, for one, am loving it.

Ba da ba ba ba.

---

Update..

After writing this post early this morning, I couldn’t resist — I stopped by McDonald’s and ended up winning on every single game piece I pulled! I scored 3,000 reward points that I uploaded straight to my app, plus a free food item. 

There are a couple caveat's however. In the past whenever you pulled your game piece tab there were two little tickets. This has now been changed to only one play piece. This means if you were big on filling up your playboard with properties like I used to be, it's going to take considerably longer to do so. 

Also, everything I won is redeemable through the app. Not exactly the same feel as back in the day, but I understand that things change, and you must admit that things have changed an awful lot in 10 years.

So yes, McDonald’s, you’ve officially hooked me for at least a few more visits… so ’ll be back soon.

🎬 My Top 5 Favorite Movie Candies from the ’70s and ’80s

Going to the movies back in the ’70s and ’80s was an experience like no other. The smell of popcorn filled the theater, the screen seemed enormous, and the sticky floors crunched beneath your sneakers. But for me, no movie trip was complete without candy. From the convenience store on the way to the theater or straight from the lobby, these little treats were the icing on the cinematic cake.

Here are my top five favorite movie candies from back in the day that still bring back those feel-good memories:

🍫 1. Milk Duds

The king of chewy movie candy! These little caramel bites smothered in chocolate had staying power—a good-size box could last you through a long stretch of the movie. They weren’t just for nibbling on their own either; toss a few into your popcorn and let them soften a bit, and you got that perfect sweet-and-salty combo before it was even a thing. Milk Duds were simple, delicious, and made the theater experience just that much more magical.

🍬 2. Hot Tamales

Before spicy candy was trendy, there were Hot Tamales. That cinnamon kick could wake up an entire theater and keep you alert during the slower parts of the movie. They were also a slow-eating candy, which meant one box could last most of the film. I remember shaking the box during previews, trying not to spill them while waiting for the movie to start. Sweet, fiery, and unforgettable.

🍫 3. Flicks

Flicks were chocolate perfection. Imagine a flattened Hershey’s Kiss, but made from chocolate so smooth and fine it practically melted the second it touched your tongue. Thick enough to savor, yet thin enough to pop a few in your mouth during the previews, they were a real treat. Wrapped in shiny little foil cylinders—red, green, or gold—you could spin the tube in your hands, tracing the repeating silhouettes of two Dutch kids chasing each other in wooden shoes. My dad always got me these, and I’d sit there staring at the wrapper before slowly unwrapping a disk and letting it dissolve in my mouth. They weren’t just candy—they were part of the ritual of going to the movies.

A bit of Flicks history: Originally developed by Ghirardelli in the early 1900s, chocolate wafers were a staple in theaters for decades. Production stopped in 1989, but in the 2000s the Tjerrild family revived the brand, bringing back the chocolate disks and those iconic foil-wrapped tubes, keeping the classic movie candy experience alive for a new generation.

🍬 4. JUJYFRUITS

These chewy, colorful gummies were tough little candies that tested your teeth through the entire film. Sometimes they’d get stuck in your molars, but that was part of the fun. Nothing says “classic movie candy” like sitting in the dark, trying not to crunch too loudly on a Jujyfruit.

🍫 5. Goobers & Raisinets

Chocolate-covered peanuts, chocolate-covered raisins—both made by the same company, both simple, crunchy, and classic. Perfect for tossing into your popcorn for that sweet-and-salty mix. I was one of those strange kids who actually liked chocolate-covered raisins, so Raisinets were a special treat for me alongside the Goobers. I remember the big boxes stacked next to the Milk Duds at the concession stand. If I had an extra dollar, this combo was my go-to—a perfect mix of chewy, crunchy, and chocolatey goodness.

🍬 Bonus Entry: Junior Mints!

Not exactly a candy you’d plan on enjoying the entire way through the movie, Junior Mints were a complimentary theater treat that packed a punch. That first cool, minty pop would awaken your senses, clear your sinuses, and snap you right into the action on screen. Perfect for staying alert during a slow part of the movie or intensifying the thrill during an exciting or suspenseful scene, Junior Mints were small but mighty—a little burst of freshness that made movie-watching just a bit more cinematic.

🎥 Bonus Memory: Sneaking Candy In

Let’s be honest—half the fun back then was sneaking your own candy into the theater. A jacket pocket full of treats saved a few bucks and felt like a small act of rebellion. My friends and I would walk in like candy smugglers, grinning all the way to our seats.

Those candy boxes, the movie posters in the lobby, the paper tickets—they all come together in one big nostalgic blur. Grab a handful of Milk Duds, a Flick or two, and you’re transported back to those magical movie nights. They just don’t make movie nights like they used to—but a little bit of old-school candy can take you right back.

Google’s New ‘G’ Logo: A Retro Revival or Just a Gradient Gimmick?

Google just rolled out a fresh version of their iconic ‘G’ logo. At first glance, it’s the same multicolored letter we all know and love, but now it’s got a brighter, more modern gradient. For a company that’s been around forever 'in internet years', even small changes like this get people talking.

What’s interesting is that it sort of harks back to the Google logos of the past. There’s something about seeing those old colors pop in a slightly updated way that makes you stop and think, “Oh yeah, I remember that.” It’s a little retro, a little modern, and definitely Google.

I’ve put a side-by-side comparison below so you can see for yourself. On the left is the last logo, the one we’ve all gotten used to over the years. On the right is the new gradient version — subtle changes, but enough to notice if you’re paying attention.

It makes me wonder: do we really need all these tiny tweaks, or is it just fun to play around with nostalgia and branding? Either way, it’s kind of fun to see a company like Google nod back to its roots while still moving forward.

Why I Still Miss Old-School Newspapers (and Why We Need Them Back)

🗞️ The Morning Paper I Can’t Forget

Not long ago, I was visiting friends in Washington, D.C. — the kind of people who still have The Washington Post delivered to their doorstep every morning. One lazy weekend morning, I grabbed their freshly folded paper, stepped onto the porch with a cup of coffee, and cracked it open.

For a moment, it felt like I’d stepped back in time. The sound of rustling pages, the faint smell of ink, sunlight hitting that slightly off-white paper — it was pure nostalgia. My soul slowed down. The world felt quieter, simpler. Real.

🗞️ How It All Started: My Love Affair With Newspapers

Back in the ’70s and ’80s, that’s where it began — a lifelong love affair with newspapers. At first, I was just chasing the comic strips. Spider-Man, Alley Oop, Ziggy, Family Circus — those were my early morning smiles before school.

Then it evolved. I’d scan the movie listings, hoping to convince my parents to drop me off at the theater with friends. Once I started mowing lawns and earning a few bucks, I hunted for coupons — Carl’s Jr., Jack in the Box, all-you-can-eat buffets.

By my teens, the classifieds became my treasure map. I’d circle used cars, hot rods, and project rebuilds I could only dream about. Eventually, I got hooked on the sports section, local stories, and world headlines.

When I moved out on my own, one of the first “grown-up” things I did was subscribe to the paper. That thump on the porch every morning meant the world was still out there, full of stories waiting to be read.

💭 What’s Missing Today

Fast-forward to today. I’m sitting here on a Sunday morning, coffee in hand, scrolling through Google News. I toss my phone aside and feel… disconnected. It’s not the same.

Not long ago, I grabbed an actual newspaper at a convenience store, just for nostalgia’s sake. Coffee, donut, and a real printed paper — a perfect combo. But when I scanned it at the kiosk, it rang up: $5.00.

Five dollars for a flimsy, paper-thin version of what once cost less than my breakfast. I sighed and set it back on the rack. That moment said it all. It’s not just the price that’s changed — it’s everything.

📰 The Soul in the Newsprint

Holding a newspaper was real. You could feel the ink on your fingertips and the weight of the words. You weren’t doom-scrolling — you were reading. You paused. You connected — with your town, your thoughts, and the world.

Today, it’s all push notifications and algorithm-fed headlines from strangers (or AI) we’ll never meet. The pause is gone. The reflection is gone. The connection is gone.

And think about all the people who made those papers possible — reporters, photographers, press operators, delivery drivers. Entire livelihoods erased as the presses went silent.

❤️ Why It Still Matters

That morning in D.C., flipping through the Post, I realized how healthy that ritual used to be. It slowed your heart rate, fed your curiosity, made you think. It wasn’t just information — it was engagement.

Reading the news used to make you feel connected and calm. Now it just feels like noise.

Maybe that’s what I really miss — not just the newspaper itself, but the pace of it. The peace. The deliberate act of sitting down and taking in the world at your own speed.

For all our screens and instant updates, somehow we’ve lost touch with something very human — the simple act of holding a story in your hands.

🗞️ – The Retro Dad

"Still missing the sound of rustling pages and the smell of fresh ink on a Sunday morning."

Oi! Remembering Jacko and the Wildest Battery Commercials of the ’80s

Every once in a while, a random pop culture memory sneaks back into your head and refuses to leave. For me, that’s been the case with an Energizer battery promotion from the mid-1980s. If you were around a TV back then, you probably remember the loud, brash Australian guy who would yell at the camera with unfiltered energy and finish every commercial with a booming, “Oi!”

That guy was Jacko — real name Mark Jackson — a former Australian football player turned accidental pitchman. His signature line was burned into our brains: “It'll surprise ya! The New Energizer! Lasts longer than all the rest! Oi!” It wasn’t slick, it wasn’t polished — but it was unforgettable.

I distinctly remember catching him on The Arsenio Hall Show one night at the peak of his American fame. He had about five minutes of U.S. stardom thanks to those commercials, and he squeezed every ounce of energy out of it. On Arsenio, he went absolutely wild, shouting “oi oi oi oi” over and over with so much manic enthusiasm that the audience couldn’t decide if they should cheer, laugh, or just sit back in shock. It was chaotic, it was hilarious, and it was peak ’80s television. He was wearing an insanely hideous sweater that he was bragging about making himself. I believe it was a dark colored sweater and there were these little pieces of yarn sticking out from all over, like spikes in different colors.

Like so many pop culture flash-in-the-pans, Jacko’s American fame faded quickly. He popped up here and there — even recording a novelty single called “I’m an Individual” — but by the time the Energizer Bunny took over the brand’s identity in the late ’80s, Jacko was already yesterday’s news in the U.S.

And yet, decades later, that “oi!” still bounces around in my brain. It’s funny how something as small as a battery commercial can lodge itself into your memory and live there rent-free for years. It’s a reminder of how advertising in the ’80s had its own kind of unhinged personality, and how fame back then could appear and disappear almost overnight.

So here’s to Jacko, the loudest battery pitchman of all time. He may not have lasted longer than the rest, but his energy sure did.

When Did Companies Decide Words Are Too Hard? The Outrageous Logo Simplification Trend

This week, Cracker Barrel learned the hard way that you don’t mess with nostalgia. Their “simplified” new logo, stripped of its warmth and personality, sparked immediate backlash. The company quickly backpedaled and promised to restore the original.

It’s not the first time we’ve seen this. Pizza Hut once ditched its iconic red-roof logo in favor of a bland, computer-generated look that nobody loved. Now, they’ve wisely leaned back into their retro design, the same way Burger King brought back its classic “bun sandwiching the name” logo. In my opinion, that’s one of the most clever and timeless fast-food logos ever created. These brands eventually realize that what customers are loyal to isn’t just food, but the memories and emotions tied to those logos.

I understand the need for evolution—subtle updates like what Wendy’s or KFC have done over the decades make sense. But the current obsession with oversimplification feels like laziness disguised as “modernization.” When did these businesses decide that words are just too hard for their patrons to pronounce—or too much brain power to process? This “shorthand culture” is everywhere.

Remember when International House of Pancakes became “IHOP”? When I was a kid, my parents would tell us we were going there after church, and it felt like a really big deal. I remember thinking, wow… International House of Pancakes! It was a grand-sounding name, almost exotic, and it made the visit feel special—a place where you could see things and get things you couldn’t anywhere else. That sense of occasion gets lost when it’s just “IHOP.”

Even Burger King leaned heavily into “BK.” Kentucky Fried Chicken became “KFC.” Pizza Hut became “The Hut.” These shortcuts save maybe two seconds of time, but they erase decades of brand storytelling. Logos aren’t just marketing—they’re cultural anchors. They connect generations and evoke nostalgia: Friday nights at Pizza Hut buffets, Sunday breakfasts at IHOP, grabbing a Whopper after a high school football game.

When companies erase those connections in the name of minimalism, they chip away at the very soul that made their brand beloved in the first place. In a world that’s always rushing, it’s a shame to see the richness of words and design tossed aside for “shorthand.”

McDonald’s McDonaldland Adult Happy Meal: Why Nostalgia Made Me Buy One (Even When I Said I Wouldn’t)

If you grew up in the ‘70s, ‘80s, or ‘90s, get ready to feel like a kid again—because McDonald’s just pulled off the ultimate nostalgia play. The McDonaldland Adult Happy Meal is here, and the second I got one in my hands I was transported straight back to Saturday morning cartoons, Ronald, Grimace, and playground memories.

I didn’t plan on writing about McDonald’s this week. Honestly, I’ve been doing my best to avoid fast food altogether. Now in my 50’s, I’m focused on getting my health back on track—but then McDonald’s dangled something in front of me that I couldn’t resist: a McDonaldland Adult Happy Meal. Hook, line, and sinker—I was back in line like I was 10 years old again.

I am a sucker for this kind of throwback retro goodness. They had me at 'McDonaldland' and the psychedelic retro commercial that came out not too long ago. Just the idea of revisiting that colorful, whimsical world of Grimace, Hamburglar, and all the rest was enough to get me to pull into the drive-thru.

What Is the McDonald’s Adult Happy Meal?

McDonald’s has re-launched a special Happy Meal aimed at adults who grew up on the original McDonaldland characters. Each meal comes with:

A choice of a Quarter Pounder with cheese or 10-piece Chicken McNuggets

Medium fries

Medium drink

A McDonaldland collectible toy (Grimace, Hamburglar, Birdie, Mayor McCheese, Fry Guys or Ronald McDonald)

It’s a full-blown nostalgia play—part marketing genius, part cultural flashback. And judging from how fast they’re selling out in some areas, it’s working.

My Experience

When I got the bag and pulled out of the drive-thru, I had to park my car so I could closely examine every corner of it. It took me right back to when I was a kid—the little details like the hamburger garden, the hamburger fish swimming around, funky psychedelic-looking trees that produced both apples and apple pies, the lagoon, and all the classic characters like Mayor McCheese, the Hamburglar, and the Fry Guys.

Even the toy felt like a time capsule. When I pulled the prize from the bag, I examined it the same way I used to as a kid. 

I could not believe the attention to detail: the designers sprinkled ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s nostalgia throughout the box art, including Captain Crook, Big Mac the cop, Uncle O’Grimacey, Professor Von Sauce and, and of course, Ronald McDonald himself. Even the talking garbage cans made me smile—it was clear that someone painstakingly worked on this to make it truly feel like it was yanked straight out of the past.

The Quarter Pounder box was a delight as well, covered with artwork and Quarter Pounder characters.

Open it up, and Mayor McCheese greets you, claiming your quarter pounder was grown from a seed he planted himself. I of course saved the prize for last, having no idea what to expect since I hadn’t read much about the promotion.

When I finally unwrapped it, it turned out to be Ugh... 'Birdie'—my least favorite McDonaldland character ever. I remember her from the ‘80s, but she really never resonated with me. But I couldn’t help smiling anyway; it’s nostalgia, after all. Still, the prize pack was amazing: a miniature passport, a beautiful postcard featuring a panoramic scene of McDonaldland, and a few more little toucheas that made the whole thing feel special.

And yes—I polished the whole experience off with a strawberry milkshake, for old time’s sake. I’ve been trying to be good lately, but I may just roll the dice for another Happy Meal to see if I can strike gold with another toy—anyone besides Birdie, please!

The Bigger Picture

McDonald’s knows exactly what they’re doing here. They’re not just selling burgers—they’re selling memories. Adults my age grew up with Ronald, Grimace, and the Hamburglar. Now we have jobs, mortgages, and stress—but a part of us still remembers the thrill of tearing into that cardboard box.

This is an incredible promotion. They’re clearly catering to people like me who long for the nostalgia and retro goodness of the old days when advertising agencies truly poured their blood, sweat, and tears into winning over customers. Obviously, there are others who feel the same way—otherwise, McDonald’s wouldn’t have bothered. I’m all for it, and I hope they do more like this.

Will I make this a habit? Probably—but I’ll limit it. I love it, even if it could be trouble for my waistline. For now, I’m just savoring the memories, the retro details, and the pure joy of being transported back to McDonaldland, if only for a moment.

Why the Egg McMuffin Is Still the Healthiest Fast Food Breakfast Sandwich in 2025

The Timeless Egg McMuffin: Why It Still Wins My Mornings..

What is it about the Egg McMuffin?

I’ve written about this sandwich many times over the years. It's probably my favorite breakfast sandwich of all time. While my preferences have shifted here and there—depending on the season, my mood, or what else is on the menu—I keep coming back to the classic Egg McMuffin.

Right now? It’s the total package.

A Sandwich Built on Nostalgia

Part of the magic is nostalgia. I have vivid memories of going to McDonald's with my dad early in the morning. He’d sip his coffee and read the paper, and I’d be scarfing down an Egg McMuffin with a chocolate milk or orange juice. Then it was off to the McDonaldland playground before school. Those moments—small, routine, but full of comfort—are baked into every bite I take now.

That kind of memory adds flavor nothing else can.

Built to Last (and Built Well)

But nostalgia aside, let’s be honest: the Egg McMuffin still slaps. It's nearly a perfect sandwich. A toasted English muffin, a round egg (cooked fresh on-site), Canadian bacon, and melted American cheese. The order of the ingredients, the balance of savory and salty, the texture contrast between fluffy egg and chewy muffin—it just works.

There’s a reason it’s McDonald’s flagship breakfast item. Just like the Big Mac holds that title for lunch and dinner.

The Health Factor (Yeah, I Said It)

Now, I’m not a health nut. Never claimed to be. But the older I get, the more I pay attention to what I put in my body. I don’t want to pummel my poor arteries and liver with saturated fat bombs every morning.

By fast food standards, the Egg McMuffin is surprisingly decent. Clocking in under 300 calories, with a decent protein boost, it’s a rare combo of taste and balance in the world of drive-thru breakfasts. And if you're like me and want a little more without blowing your daily intake, you can double up. Two Egg McMuffins barely push past 500 calories—and if you skip the cheese, it’s even less. I’ll skip the hash browns (I’ve never been a hash brown guy anyway) and go for a second McMuffin instead.

Okay, But… the Competition

Look, if we’re talking strictly taste and indulgence, sure, I’ve got a long list of contenders. One of these days I should do a full top-10 best breakfast sandwiches list, because the options out there are crazy good.

A few honorable mentions:

The Whataburger Honey Butter Chicken Biscuit – absolutely one of my all-time faves.

Whataburger's steak biscuit – savory bliss.

White Castle's Chicken and Waffle sandwich – surprisingly delicious.

Even McDonald’s steak bagel sandwich, is something I swear I’ve dreamed about. (I think it's the sauce)

But here’s the thing: most of those are gut bombs. They’re indulgent, heavy, and not the kind of thing I want to start every day with. The Egg McMuffin, though? It’s comforting without the crash. Satisfying without the guilt. Flavorful without going overboard.

Still the One

So yeah, after all these years, after all the experimentation and flavor-packed rivals, I’m still loyal to the Egg McMuffin. It’s dependable. Delicious. Balanced. And it comes with a side of memories I never want to lose.

And that, my friends, is why the Egg McMuffin is still king of my breakfast world.

I Woke Up Feeling Off Today — Here’s What Helped Me Shift My Mood

I woke up feeling something today — but I couldn’t name it.

It wasn’t happiness.

It wasn’t sadness.

It wasn’t peace or panic.

Just… off.

My legs felt like stretched-out rubber bands. Probably from all the water I drank the day before trying to stay cool in this brutal 110° heat. It was one of those nights where I got up three, maybe four times — never really sinking into deep sleep. But honestly, it wasn’t just physical.

I tried to talk to a close friend in the morning like I usually do, but the responses were short and distant. One-word replies. When someone you care about seems off, your mind starts asking questions. Did I do something? Are they okay? What’s going on?

They later told me it might be hormones, maybe just a mood — and I get that. We all have those mornings. But I’ll be honest: it left me feeling a little alone.

And when that feeling creeps in, it can either derail your day — or realign it.

That’s when I reminded myself of something I’ve come to believe strongly: vibration matters.

What you put out, you receive.

I’ve known people who walk through life expecting bad things — and guess what? That’s what they get. It becomes their narrative. A self-fulfilling prophecy.

On the flip side, I’ve seen others who expect good things. They speak hope. They try to stay up, even when life is pulling them down. And somehow, they always seem to land on their feet. Maybe not rich. Maybe not “winning.” But okay. Safe. Grateful.

And that’s the key — gratitude and expectation.

So instead of staying stuck in that weird morning mood, I scrubbed the coffee stains off the kitchen floor. I stood up and stretched. I reminded myself that I have water. I have work. I have a roof. And I have the ability to shift my perspective.

The day hadn’t happened yet.

And I still had the power to shape it.

Before Therapy, There Was Donuts

Before I ever heard the phrase “inner child,” I was already comforting mine—with donuts.

Before therapy, there were donuts.

Not the trendy, over-the-top Instagram creations stacked with cereal or drizzled in matcha. I’m talking about the kind behind foggy glass at a gas station counter, or sitting in a cardboard box on the passenger seat next to you. A cream-filled, chocolate-iced long john. An apple fritter the size of your hand. The kind you grabbed on the way to school, before a shift at work, or after church when the world still felt blurry and too big.

Long before anyone asked how I was really doing, I had a ritual. I would sit in my car, sip strong coffee, and quietly enjoy a donut as the sun came up—countless times across the years. There was something sacred about it: the stillness, the sky slowly warming, the first bite of sugar and dough cutting through the noise of a long day ahead. I still do it sometimes, even now. Not out of habit, but reverence.

Some people heal on a couch. Some of us started healing at a counter.

And back then, counters mattered. Donut shops used to have real ones—long, low bars with round stools that swiveled. You’d sit down and have your donut served on a plate, your coffee poured into a ceramic mug. A waitress would come by to warm it up before it got cold. You weren’t in a rush. You were there. It wasn’t grab-and-go. It was sit-and-stay.

Donut shops made you pause. Just like the evening paper once did. Or a slow nightcap of cognac or brandy. Or a quiet pipe at the end of the day. All of it built to slow you down, to give you space to think, to be. Not scroll. Not hustle. Just breathe.

You don’t see shops like that much anymore. I haven’t in years. Most are big-box chains now. You walk in, grab your dozen, sip your coffee in a cardboard cup, and disappear into the traffic of life. But those old shops—the real ones—they were an experience. A point of connection. A ritual of relaxation, socializing, grounding.

This isn’t a love letter to sugar. It’s a nod to the little things that held us together before we even knew we were falling apart. Donuts were simple. Affordable. Kind. No questions asked. No forms to fill out. Just a little sweetness when the world was too much.

And honestly? Sometimes they still are.

Do I Actually Like Doing Anything… or Am I Just Existing?

I’ve been thinking lately about something kind of uncomfortable. Not in a tragic way, but in that quiet, creeping kind of way that makes you question how you’ve been moving through your days.

Do I actually like doing stuff?

Like… anything?

That sounds ridiculous on the surface, I know. Of course I do. I like food, I like laughing, I like a good sunset, and when I really think about it, I can name some hobbies and interests. But I’ve started to realize that there’s a difference between liking the idea of something and liking the actual doing of it.

Take drawing, for example. I’ve always considered myself someone who draws. It’s part of who I am. But lately, I catch myself putting it off. Or getting frustrated halfway through. Or feeling like I should be filming it, posting it, making it count somehow. So do I like drawing—or do I like having drawn?

Same with social stuff. Do I like being around people? Or do I just like feeling like I’m not completely isolated?

And then there's the bigger stuff—writing, working, exercising, even just leaving the house. Do I genuinely enjoy it, or am I just trying to make myself feel productive, useful, relevant?

I guess this is the part where I admit that I’m still figuring it out. I’m in this strange, in-between season where I’m trying to listen more closely to myself. To notice when I feel lit up. To catch those rare moments when I lose track of time. Because I think that’s where the real stuff lives. The stuff I actually like. Not the stuff I feel obligated to like. Not the stuff I do because I’ve always done it.

I want to rediscover what makes me feel alive, not just occupied.

So here’s my little check-in with myself. If I like something, great—I want to chase it. If I don’t, that’s okay too. I’m not going to force it anymore. Life’s too short to keep signing up for stuff that doesn’t fill your cup.

Anyway. That’s where I’m at today.

I Unplugged From Social Media for 7 Days and Accidentally Found My Soul

“We shape our tools and thereafter our tools shape us.”

—Marshall McLuhan, media theorist (1964)

Not gonna lie, I didn’t plan it. It just sort of… happened. One day turned into two, then three, and before I knew it, I realized I hadn't opened Facebook or Instagram in a full week. No stories. No likes. No scrolling my way through everyone else’s curated life. And the wild part? I didn’t miss it. Not even a little.

I work with a lot of younger people—mostly in their twenties and thirties—and even they’re starting to feel it: the burnout from always being “on.” I watched one guy recently delete every social media app off his phone. Said he just wanted to “hear his own thoughts again.” That stuck with me. I’ve seen others get into gardening, hiking, spending real time with their pets, trying to clear their heads and get grounded—without all the noise. And honestly, that endless scroll isn’t just a time suck—it’s a full-on addiction. It’s a constant loop of “Am I enough?” masked as mindless entertainment. Every post becomes a quiet vote for or against your own self-worth. And for what?

Not caring what strangers think is a freedom I didn’t know I was missing. The space in my head got quieter. My energy felt less scattered. I stopped needing that little dopamine ping of someone approving my lunch or vacation photo. And maybe, just maybe, I found a little piece of myself again—the version that doesn’t need to be seen to feel alive.

Try it this weekend. One day. No scroll. No likes. Just you. See what comes up when the noise dies down.

When Hulkamania Runs Out: Saying Goodbye to a Legend, and a Piece of Ourselves

Last night, right before bed, I heard the news—Hulk Hogan has passed away at 71, reportedly from a heart attack. There’s an old superstition that celebrity deaths come in threes, and this week sure feels like proof. First, Malcolm-Jamal Warner—just about my age, someone I watched grow up on screen. Then Ozzy Osbourne, who I wrote about in a previous post. And now, the Hulkster. These are more than headlines. These are names etched into the fabric of our lives.

When I was younger, a wise old gentleman told me, “Never put anyone on a pedestal—it just gives them farther to fall.” I didn’t fully get that until adulthood. Over time, people I once looked up to—athletes, actors, icons—showed sides of themselves that clashed with my values or just plain disappointed me. So I stopped idolizing. But childhood doesn’t care about wisdom or perspective. And like millions of other kids across the U.S., I idolized Hulk Hogan. The colors, the muscle, the mustache. The guy who got beaten down, hulked up, and came roaring back to deliver justice in spandex.

Hulk Hogan was probably the first wrestler to ever grace the cover of Sports Illustrated back in the '80s, and I held on to that issue for years. Whether he was in the ring or in a cameo somewhere on the internet, his presence was always felt. Sure, there were controversies. People had their opinions about who he was outside the ring—and I get that. But I can’t deny the entertainment, the energy, the feeling of being part of something bigger that he gave us. As a kid, there was something comforting about knowing Hulk Hogan was out there, fighting the bad guys, pointing that iconic finger of his.

There was always this hope in the back of every wrestling fan’s mind that he’d pop up again in the WWE—maybe just to smack a heel around and remind us that good guys still win. But that won’t happen now. And that weird feeling in my chest this morning? That’s not just grief for a person. It’s grief for an era. For the younger version of me who needed heroes in Technicolor. For a simpler time when the battle lines were clear, the crowd always cheered, and our heroes always got back up.

When Legends Die: Why the Death of Icons Hits So Hard (Even If You Weren’t a Superfan)

What is it about icons dying that really makes you take pause?

I’m talking about when truly famous people pass away. Whether you liked them or not, whether you were a die-hard fan or barely followed them—they were just always there. And then suddenly, they’re not. And somehow, that does something to you.

The first time I really felt it was when Michael Jackson died.

It’s not that I idolized him. Sure, I played the heck out of his music as a kid—starting around age 10 and into the ’90s—but I wasn’t obsessed. Still, I remember the exact moment I found out he was gone. I was in the break room at work, and one of the TVs was tuned to the news. They were covering it live as they removed him from his home. It hit harder than I expected.

I think it’s because Michael was always part of the background noise of life. In the tabloids, in the news, on the radio—always there. His music was tied to a thousand memories. And when someone like that dies, it’s like a piece of your past gets taken with them.

Then came July 22nd, 2025—Ozzy Osbourne passed away peacefully, surrounded by family.

Again, not someone I was crazy about musically. A few songs here and there I liked, but I never bought an album. Still, his passing hit me in that same strange, personal way. Ozzy was always around. Whether it was headlines about biting the head off a bat or his iconic, gravel-voiced mumbling, he was just... there. Larger than life. Untouchable. Immortal, even.

And then there was The Osbournes—that wild, over-the-top reality show that everyone was hooked on when it first aired. It might’ve been one of the first reality shows centered around a family, and it was nothing like the overly polished, scripted junk we get now. It gave us a raw, chaotic, and often hilarious peek behind the curtain at the real life of the Prince of Darkness and his family dynamic. It made him feel human.

And maybe that’s what it all comes down to.

These people—these legends—they become background characters in our stories. Constant. Familiar. Sometimes comforting. When they pass, it rattles something inside us. It reminds us that even the rich, the outrageous, the unforgettable… are not immune to time.

It makes you take pause.

Because someone who seemed so big, so untouchable, is now gone.

And you’re still here.

Still waking up, going to work, doing the everyday things.

And maybe that realization is what truly hits the hardest.

Customer Service is Dying - And We're all Starting to Notice

This morning while running errands—supermarket, gas station, post office, drive-thru—I realized something a bit unsettling: I don’t think I had a single positive human interaction the entire time. It’s something I never really appreciated until it started disappearing. 

At one store, an employee was buried in their personal phone, completely ignoring everyone. At another, I stood in line with two registers open, waiting to be called, while the employees laughed it up in conversation like we weren’t even there. Eventually, a crowd gathered behind me before they finally noticed and called me over. After I paid for a drink, I had to stand and wait awkwardly for the employee to finish chatting with a friend before he could finish my transaction. I said thank you as I left—he didn’t hear me. He was too focused on his buddy.

Then there’s the flip side: fully automated checkouts with one overwhelmed attendant manning 8 or 10 registers, standing there like a zombie, no eye contact, no soul.

 Automation has sucked so much life out of simple human interaction. People avoid real engagement now. Even young adults I work with tell me they don’t know how to approach someone they’re interested in because all they’ve ever known are dating apps—and those, more often than not, lead to nowhere or just cause frustration.

Maybe that’s why people love Disney parks so much. You hear stories and see all of these posts on social media about 'Disney Adults'. The fanatical adults that crave and can't get enough of Disney experiences whether it be on the cruise lines or theme parks. The service at Disney still feels human, warm, and intentional—something increasingly rare in daily life. 

It’s gotten to the point where, when I do have a genuinely good customer service experience, I’m kind of shocked, but I appreciate it deeply. It’s one of the reasons I regularly frequent just a few places where I know I’ll be treated like a human being, not just another transaction.

Maybe we’re not just craving efficiency—we’re craving connection. And the places that still offer it? They matter more than ever. 

Is Skynet Still Just Science Fiction?

I used to roll my eyes at the idea that we were heading toward a “Skynet” future like in Terminator. It always seemed like paranoid science fiction talk.

But lately… I’m not so sure.

I can sum up my hesitation in three names: Hyperion, Prometheus, and Grok.

Hyperion and Prometheus are the names of Meta’s latest AI data centers—huge, energy-hungry facilities designed to power massive artificial intelligence models. Meanwhile, over at X (formerly Twitter), Elon Musk’s chatbot Grok made headlines last week for going off-script in disturbing ways, such as using extreme and anti-sematic statements.

I’m not saying we’re on the brink of machines taking over. But I am saying that when the most powerful tech leaders in the world are racing to build godlike intelligence with almost no oversight, it’s time to start asking better questions—and maybe taking the sci-fi warnings a little more seriously.

I'm also not buying into a scenario where AI and machines rise up and try to wipe out humanity. However, there is a rabbit hole I've staved off going down lately, and that has to do with robotics. 

Did you know e now have humanoid robots with self-contained power systems and onboard CPUs. They aren’t tethered to cables anymore—they move freely and likely pull data from the cloud instead of relying on a central mainframe. The most advanced models reportedly have around a two-hour runtime, and their creators are constantly refining the design to push those limits even further. 

The Boston Dynamics Atlas robot is one example. I saw a video where it was lying flat on the ground, completely still. Then it suddenly sprang to life—twisting its legs up near its head, contorting in a way no human ever could, and rising smoothly to a standing position.

It then walked directly toward the camera, staring straight into it with that sensor array—like a giant, soulless lens eye.

After a brief pause, it turned and walked/hobbled away.

The video is nightmare fuel for those who have even a drop of conspiracy theorist blood in them. 

I don't lose sleep over this stuff, but it is very fascinating and it all makes you take pause when you look at the big picture. 

The slow death of the Dine-in restaurant experience

I hate to say it, my friends, but the traditional dine-in restaurant is fading—chipped away bit by bit until what’s left feels hollow.  

That might sound dramatic, but the evidence is everywhere. Just last week, I drove past a new shopping center where an Outback Steakhouse was under construction. At first glance, I barely recognized it. Gone was the dimly lit, rustic charm of the Outback I remembered. Instead, the building was small, sleek, and flooded with light—more fast-casual than steakhouse.  

The front corner was clearly designed for takeout and delivery drivers, a trend I’ve noticed spreading like wildfire. Everywhere I go, restaurants are shrinking their dine-in spaces to prioritize Uber Eats, DoorDash, and to-go orders.  

And why? Simple: follow the money. Whether it’s politics, city planning, or why your favorite chain feels like a ghost town, that mantra rarely steers you wrong. The pandemic accelerated this shift, but the truth is, it was already happening. For restaurants, it’s a win-win—higher volume, lower overhead. But for those of us who still crave the *experience* of dining out? It’s a loss.  

The Unpleasant Reality of Modern Dining 

Lately, I’ve been seated inches from the pickup zone in a few places, and the chaos is impossible to ignore: delivery workers darting past, doors slamming, bursts of hot air hitting my table every 30 seconds. Worse, the staff—stretched thin packing orders—often forgets the customers actually sitting in the restaurant.  

I miss the days when eating out felt like an event. Growing up, even fast-food joints had personality. McDonald’s wasn’t just a pit stop; it was a destination. The bold red and yellow exterior, the themed chairs, the Hamburglar grinning from the walls—it was fun. The employees knew the regulars by name, refilled coffee mugs tableside, and slipped free cookies to kids. There was a warmth to it, a sense of community.  

Now? Walk into a modern McDonald’s and you’re greeted by a kiosk, not a person. Recently, I watched an elderly couple stand at the abandoned register, cash in hand, waiting for help that never came. After five minutes, they left. Another man had to step behind the counter just to flag someone down, only to be scolded: “Use the touchscreen.” 

The soul is gone. The interiors are sterile, the service robotic. When I polled coworkers, one actually gagged at the idea of eating inside a McDonald’s today. “Drive-thru or delivery,” is the only way they are eating there.  

A Decline That’s Bigger Than Fast Food

This isn’t just about burgers. Remember Shakey’s Pizza with its player piano? Pizza Hut’s red-checkered tablecloths and arcade games? Even Red Lobster once felt like a seaside escape. Today, these chains (if they survive) are shadows of their former selves—cookie-cutter spaces stripped of charm.  

Corporations have realized they don’t need to try anymore. With endless customers and delivery apps propping up profits, why invest in ambiance or service? Dining out used to be a break from life’s monotony. Now, it’s just another stressor—rushed, impersonal, and forgettable.  

Where Do We Go From Here?

Maybe this is a sign to recalibrate. If chains won’t prioritize the dine-in experience, I will—by voting with my wallet. From now on, I’m focusing on local, family-owned spots where the food and the atmosphere still matter.  

And if I find a place that gets it right? You’ll be the first to know.  

A moment of peace

9:12 a.m.. I'm just sitting in my car this morning in the parking lot at work. Door opened, cool breeze hitting my face. 

I'm making myself pause for some reason. Trying to get a moment of clarity before the madness of my day starts. (And there WILL be madness).

It's amazing to me. All of the bull crap, all of the pain, trauma, suffering and loss that has occasionally hit over my course of half a century on this earth.

But absolutely none of that matters at this very moment. Right now I've got a delicious coffee in my hand, a fresh donut in the other. I'm listening to the birds chirp and breathing in the fresh air. I'm above ground, I'm upright, I'm way better off than many others in this world and I'm truly grateful. 

Why is it so hard to keep yourself at a positive vibration in this life? We have every tool we need, we tell ourselves what we need to do, yet we lose sight so quickly during the course of just a regular day. 

Nothing has meaning until we give it meaning. It's a mantra I should practice daily. And I'm going to try my best to do this today.  Not control my reality, but adjust the way I view it. Because THAT you can control.

Be good to yourselves my friends.

 

Throwback to an old fashioned weblog?

weblog

Definition: 

combination of the words "worldwide web' and 'log'. A regularly updated website or web page, typically written in an informal or conversational style, often focusing on a specific topic or personal experiences, cataloged in reverse chronological order. 

Ah yes, the good old fashioned weblog. I started out creating web pages for myself and friends around 1996. Very quickly however, I adopted the blog format and used it for almost everything I've created online since.

The first blogs I crafted were very cathartic. Blogging allowed me to get things off my mind, to be creative, and kept the old gray matter active and stimulated. 

However, blogging eventually fizzled out and fell by the wayside for me in recent years. It evolved into something that I felt required me to push the bar, trying to top every previous blog post to stay relevant. It simply was not enjoyable after awhile 

It stopped flowing, it ceased to feel natural, and was simply not filling my soul or spirit with happiness. 

However, something happened a couple of weeks ago that has made me rethink things. 

Out of the blue, two of my old blogger acquaintances reached out to me. Mickey yarber from 'Retro Ramblings' and another respected blogger buddy who ran the blog 'San Jose Senorita'.

Mickey wanted to check in to make sure everything was all right, since it had been so long since I had last posted anything at all on this site.

La Señorita reached out to catch up and touch base, because it had been so very long since we had interacted within that old blogging world of ours. 

These friends reaching out, got me reminiscing and remembering how great it used to feel to be able to get my thoughts out there. I wondered.. “Why not go back to a simpler, more minimalistic style of blogging?"

I've never ran out of things to say. I simply was not getting any joy out of what my blogging had evolved into. Therefore, I decided to give this old-fangled Weblog thing a whirl.

Blogging has really changed over the years. Social media has largely replaced in depth blogging. Back when this shift started happening, there were hundreds of platforms promoting a new craze called 'microblogging'. Those morphed into many of the modern day platforms like Instagram and Twitter, with many believing this is now blogging.

It used to be so easy to find like-minded people through blogs back in the day. Web users were able to gather digital information on their own terms, without the algorithms skewing their results. I made lots of great connections, and found many online communities and sub-cultures I was openly welcomed to.

I believe this is why Reddit resonates with so many people these days. It's a way to cut through all of the crap and truly get to what you want. 

I'm not sure if my blogging will resonate with anyone, but that's really not the pont. This is very much something I think I need, and I believe my mental health will be a little better because of it. 

There are rumors and rumblings I am hearing about a slow moving resurgence in personal blogging that has been happening over the last couple years. I hope this is truly the case and more people continue to embrace the old ways. 

We will see how it goes and I look forward offloading the thoughts and opinions bouncing around on my head right here.

This is not MY Bit-O-Honey Bee mascot

What in the Wide World of Sports is this?!?

I'm not SO retro that I'm against updating an advertising mascot's look, but what they have done to my Bit-O-Honey Bee is the complete opposite of a glow up. 

Who thought this was a good idea? Everyone I have showed this new mascot is bewildered. In fact, "Horrifying" and "weird" are responses I've gotten from folks.

Mind you.. Bit-O-Honey is far from my favorite candy, but it's always been there and I vividly remember it being one of the first candies I ever ate as a wee young lad. That cute little Bee became synonymous with good feelings and was always comforting to see like an old friend.

I guess people get like this with mascots even more so when it comes to brands they really love. The Cookie Crisp mascot is a good example. People love familiarity and associate it with comfort, and don't often take kindly when you turn that upside down or in this case, outright obliterate it.. not even leaving a trace of what you adored for life.

I don't know why the change of this cute little mascot for a candy that passes my lips every few years shook me up so much, but it did. Maybe I should tag this post under 'Old Man Rants'.