Anthea’s Hope story by Jim Duchene tech by Grok 1 The desert stretched endlessly before Thomas Jerome Newton. A cracked and desolate expanse that mirrored the fate of his home planet, Anthea. He stood atop a dune. His thin frame cloaked in a tailored suit that seemed out of place against the barren landscape. His eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, scanned the horizon. Not Earth’s, but a simulation he’d built in a Nevada warehouse. It was a desperate attempt to feel something of home. A planet dying of drought. Its inhabitants reduced to dust and memory. Newton had come to Earth decades ago with a mission. Amass wealth. Develop technology. Save Anthea by bringing water back. He’d succeeded in part. His patents had made him richer than King Solomon, but the planet’s bureaucracies, wars, and petty squabbles had delayed him. Now, time was running out. Anthea’s last transmissions had...
I can't tell you how happy I was that people got the joke. Even PETA, who's not known for its sense of humor, reached out a friendly hand via lawsuit, the only known way they communicate, to express their appreciation concerning my effort to satirize animal stereotypes. I rescued my pit bull from the local pound. He had been found abandoned in the desert. Thirsty. Hungry. Scared. Wearing a collar way too tight for him. No chip. Scars here and there. "Who's going to adopt this poor guy? I wondered. PT Barnum was famously quoted as saying, "There's a sucker born every minute," and, by adopting him, I proved I was born at the one minute mark. Now, I can either shake my fist at the sky about how pit bulls are misunderstood or I could write something showing how ridiculous those misunderstandings are. With Pit Bull Facts (8-8-25), I chose the later. ...
There's an old joke that goes: An elderly man complains to his doctor, "Doc, I have this problem. I keep throwing these silent farts all day long. (See? There goes one now). I can't help it, doc. I keep farting and farting, but they make no noise. (Oops! There goes another one.) I don't know what's wrong with me. I can throw the most massive farts, and they make no sound. (Ahhh, that's three in a row.) What do you think?" "I think you need to have your hearing checked," the doctor says. Now, I told you that story to tell you this story: My father has his own room. His room, actually, is the guest house in the front of our main house. If it's not called the Unwanted Guest House, then it should be. His room has its own satellite TV, radio/CD player, telephone, and refrigerated air. The problem is that he likes to watch TV in the family room of MY house, which forces everybody (mainly me) to watch TV somewhere else. And that's where my f...
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