Thursday, June 26, 2025

Hot Take

What I'm about to say, I hope that you will accept with grace. I might get canceled for this. 

I've said it onced or twiced to various people, and almost every time, I lose friends. Tragic for sure, but I'm not sorry for standing up for what I strongly believe is the truth. 

So take a breath, and let's walk through this together:

I believe with all my heart that crunchy peanut butter shouldn't exist; it is a waste of cupboard space and pointless in nature. 

I know, I know, all you crunchy peanut butter lovers are fuming right now. But, I maintain creamy peanut butter supremacy. 

My reasoning is simple and rooted in observational science. In the first place, is there anything called butter that has chunks in it? Honey butter, apple butter, body butter, milk butter, they're all smooth and creamy. Because that's what butter is. 

How would you like it if you found chunks in your normal, cowmilk butter? Grosses you out, doesn't it?

Secondly, I believe food needs to have some sort of continuity of consistency within each culinary offering. Soft dishes need to be soft. Hard dishes need to be hard. 

You may say "But Mark, s'mores are hard AND soft!" How right you are, but the continuity says the crunchy is on the outside and softly gives way to the creamy inside. It tells a story! 

One time, I had a PBJ sandwich with chunky peanut butter and it took me a solid minute to realize I wasn't losing my teeth: someone had done half a job when making the peanut butter. What story are we telling here? Fluffy soft bread gives way to soft, sweet jelly, and indecisive half-chewed peanuts kinda interrupt here and get in the way. Lame. 

I'll say it again for the people in the back: Crunchy Peanut Butter is a job half done.

I stand by this. 

Wednesday, June 18, 2025

Ode to Dad (An Appreciation Post)

In a world where everything is changing quickly, there is a unified cry among society for strength. There is an obvious omittance of stoic-minded leadership and wisdom. The glaring absence of righteous aggression, responsibility, courage, and the ever-assertive thirst for intrinsic independence to place a mark on their spot in the world. These things tend to be viewed as uncommon superpowers. 

As far as I'm concerned, my Dad is as close to Superman as I'll ever meet. 

He's one of those guys that, if I were not his son, I'd definitely want to be his friend. Maybe you know someone like him. If you do, you already understand the high-value someone like him brings to life. 

Frequently the tallest man in the room, my dad has stood as a pillar of strength my whole life. In a friend group, he is the silent type, with the uncanny ability to crack the wittiest remark at the perfect time whilst exerting minimal effort at all. I don't mind admitting it: Dad is funnier than me and always will be. 

My Dad is every bit Texan as could be. He still has the same pet turtle he rescued from his home state, he makes the most perfect steak you'll ever taste, and he is scared of neither man nor beast. He taught me to eat pralines as a breakfast item, and to fish using a bamboo cane pole. He makes shrimp and grits so good that it would make Willie Nelson cry. In a good way. 

My Dad is a natural born athlete. He made it to 6 feet tall before he left his teen years and aced every sport he tried. He taught me at a young age that "You never play for fun, you play to WIN". I've been a wimp most of my childhood so he taught me to lift weights and take Jay Robb Whey Protein, which I know this sounds like an ad, but I really do take it every day. You should too, it's good for you.

Its hard to imagine anyone cooler than my Dad. I recall once he stared down two drunk hobos who had encroached upon his family's personal space one night in downtown Nashville. My Dad neither flinched, nor raised his voice, but as they got closer (and seemingly more nefarious), all Dad had to do was look them in the eye and give them a gentle "Take a hike, boys." Those two guys probably had to change their underwear that night--I've never seen anyone so intimidated.

My Dad finished college later than most, with little baby children and a wife at home. He studied to get his teaching credentials and became a substitute teacher. He has this way with kids that's truly special. When I was a little tyke, we used to have a party trick where he would grab me by my ears and lift me off the ground. To achieve this illusion, I had to hold on to his forearms as he held on to my ears so in effect he was just relying on me hanging on, lifting me with ease, complete with theatrical shaking and flailing for effect. Not only was it fun for both of us, it made everyone laugh--it was a show stopper every time, and once the other kids learned how we did it, they all wanted to be lifted up by their ears too!

My earliest memory of Dad goes back to 1997: I was sitting on the front step of our house, drinking water from a yellow sippy cup. Dad was just an arm's length away, working in the yard. The smell of freshly churned dirt and misty lawn sprinklers imprinted so deeply upon me, that I still smile every time I catch the scent again. 

Today, Dad lives a charmed life of retirement. He tends to his lawn, his garden, his fruit trees, his bird feeders, and turtles. He still flirts with my Mom, his wife of 34 years, and still hangs out with his kids. He reads local news, has his favorite coffee spot in town, and never passes up a chance to go fishing. He still works out, and still puts peanuts in his Coke. He's the kind of man I sometimes think I'll never live up to. He has a discipline and work ethic that I aspire to. 

Without a doubt, if everyone had a Dad like him, this world wouldn't have a problem in sight. I'm sure glad to know him.

And if you couldn't tell by now, I'm really quite proud of him. 

Wednesday, June 11, 2025

Me More Cowboy Than You

Has anyone else noticed that the whole world has picked up the cowboy craze again?

And yes, I mean again. It was well documented in the 90s when everyone wore bolo ties, boots, and mullets. It was well documented in the 50s just before the space race. It was well documented in the 30s once silent films became talkies. Seems to be on a schedule I guess. 

I, for one, love to see it. In my opinion, everyone is much more attractive and smarter looking when they were large belt buckles, plaid, and the ol Cattleman crease.

Have you heard that song on the social media lately? The one that goes:

Me, me, me, me, me more cowboy than you.

I swear that I'm working class through and through

If you haven't heard it yet, I have no idea what rock you've been hiding under. It's been stuck in my head for months. Those Brudi Brothers have a prolific algorithm to go with their sharp senses of satire.

The tone of the lyrics just outright smack of the Bob McDill-penned, Alan Jackson-rendered Gone Country from my youth. Or even I Was Country (When Country Wasn't Cool) from my dad's youth. 

So have you noticed it? The world yearns to be cowboys and cowgirls again. There simply must be something ingrained within our very DNA that compels us implicitly to head for the barn and chew on hay. What's not to love about being everyone's hero, being a dependable and cool-headed member of a posse? Why wouldn't everyone try their hardest to cast long shadows of integrity and grit? But best of all, doesn't everybody think belt buckles are cool?

Fortunately for me, I've never been yanked around by the frivolous fads of society. Like Barbara Mandrell says, I was doing all these things whether or not they were considered cool.

I was wearing belt buckles when kids my age had those swoopy haircuts and were listening to Fireflies by Owl City. I was feeding cows before the movie Avatar was released to theaters. Unfortunately, it wasn't on MY ranch. I didn't have a ranch then, I was on a friend's ranch. Him more cowboy than me. Me still don't have ranch. Him still more cowboy than me. But back to me point:

All my life, I've looked down my little sunburnt nose at the blue alien loving crowds of people and boasted with "Me more cowboy than you". All my life, they've looked down their little noses at me saying "Why haven't you seen Shrek, it came out in theaters decades ago?"

And now that its popular to wear cowboy jeans in public again it's so hard for schmucks like me to stand out from a crowd. What's worse I look....trendy!

GAG!

I may not be the most cowboy person on the planet, and I'll certainly never be the most hip, but I'm thankful that cowboy culture has come around once again. Y'all are really looking good these days. I'll be right here when the fad comes back again. 

Happy trails, pilgrims.