As someone who pretends to be a writer (translation: I have a laptop and opinions), I take the craft seriously. I’ve studied the greats: Hemingway, Twain, and the guy who writes the fortunes inside fortune cookies. I’ve learned that before you write a single word of your Great American Novel (or 600-word scathing Yelp review of your dentist), you must first answer one critical question: What font should I use?
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Who cares? Just use Times New Roman and move on with your life.” Well, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend. Times New Roman is a fine font if you’re writing a term paper or a ransom note, but it lacks pizzazz. Fonts speak. They have moods. They have vibes. Arial says, “I’m professional but still down to party.” Courier New says, “I miss typewriters and the 1940s.” Wingdings says, “I’m off my meds again.”
But there’s one font – one font – that has been mocked, maligned, and metaphorically tarred and feathered more than any other: Comic Sans.
Ah, Comic Sans. The font equivalent of dad jokes and black knee-high socks with sandals. It has been called childish, chaotic, ugly, unprofessional, and the “Crocs of typography.” People hate Comic Sans with the kind of passion usually reserved for bee stings and people who clap when the plane lands.
It’s been the target of internet rage for decades. Entire websites have been devoted to its humiliation. Twitter (now known as “X” because apparently we’re all in an Elon Musk fever dream) had thousands of tweets from typographic vigilantes who wanted to burn Comic Sans to the ground and salt the earth behind it. There was even a group that created something called the Ban Comic Sans Manifesto, which sounds like a political rebellion but with more kerning (look it up).
The hate runs so deep, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone lost a job because they handed in their resume in Comic Sans. (Though to be fair, if you’re submitting your resume in Comic Sans, maybe unemployment is a growth opportunity.)
Elizabeth in Accounting just got the office memo about the company’s Holiday Office Party. She was going to go, until she noticed the entire memo was written in Comic Sans. Just as well. Elizabeth is no fun at parties.
But here’s the thing…What did Comic Sans ever do to you, buddy? It’s a font. Just a font. It’s not like it kicks puppies or uses speakerphone in public. It doesn’t tailgate you on the freeway or mow its lawn next door at 7 in the morning. It’s just trying to live its best sans-serif life, and the world keeps throwing shade harder than a solar eclipse.
Let’s look at the origin story. Comic Sans was created in 1994 by a Microsoft designer named Vincent Connare. (Yes, someone willingly admitted to creating Comic Sans. And no, he’s not in witness protection.) It was originally designed for use in comic book-style speech bubbles in software designed for children.
So naturally, grown adults took this playful font for kids, used it to make funeral invitations and legal documents, and then blamed the font for looking “immature.” That’s like blaming a teddy bear for not fitting in at a corporate board meeting. Comic Sans wasn’t designed to look like a Wall Street banker. It was meant to look like a cartoon balloon with dreams. A bubbly little font that just wants to make your PowerPoint presentation feel like a 2nd grade birthday party. Is that so wrong?
But no, the world said, “You’re not Helvetica. You’re not Calibri. You’re not even Gill Sans. You’re the Nickelback of fonts.”
Personally, I think we’re being a little harsh. It’s not Comic Sans’ fault that Karen from HR used it on the company-wide sexual harassment policy memo. Or that your kid’s third-grade science fair trifold looked like a ransom note from Elmo. That’s user error.
The truth is, Comic Sans is inclusive. It’s the golden retriever of fonts – friendly, approachable, and maybe a little bit goofy, but it means well. It’s not trying to impress you with its serifs. It’s just trying to make your dentist’s reminder postcard a little less terrifying.
And before you throw stones from your Adobe Creative Suite, let’s remember that design trends are like bell bottoms – they all come back eventually. Today we mock Comic Sans. Tomorrow, you’ll be wearing Crocs with socks while reading a self-help book in Papyrus font.
Fun Fact: Comic Sans was created by Microsoft designer Vincent Connare in 1994 for a program called Microsoft Bob, a user-friendly interface for young children. In focus groups, they later discovered that even DOGS can’t stand the font.
Let’s take a moment to consider how Comic Sans must feel. Other fonts get to be on wedding invitations, luxury hotel signage, and the credits of Netflix documentaries. Comic Sans gets stuck on passive-aggressive PTA flyers and the occasional ironic meme.
It’s the Rodney Dangerfield of typefaces. No respect.
So, I say it’s time to end the font-shaming. Let Comic Sans live! Let it frolic freely across the digital fields of Word docs and email signatures. Let it brighten the spreadsheets of our lives with its curly optimism.
And if that doesn’t convince you, just remember this: somewhere out there, a young graphic designer just got berated by their boss for using Comic Sans on a promotional poster. And they’re weeping into their pumpkin spice latte. Don’t laugh at them, you monster.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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BREAKING NEWS: Trump Unveils Bold Plan to Rename Federal Agencies (Because “Defense” and “Education” Sound Too Boring)
President Trump announced today several new name changes to key federal agencies, including changing the name of the IRS (Internal Revenue Service) to the BTC (Billionaire Tax Cuts) Service.
By Tim Jones – View from the Bleachers Washington Bureau
WASHINGTON, D.C. – In an unprecedented announcement that has left political observers, foreign leaders, and late-night talk show hosts stunned, President Trump revealed his latest plan to Make America Great Again: renaming nearly every major agency of the federal government.
“Look, folks, we have some really weak names for our government agencies. Very weak. Nobody likes them. They’re losers,” Trump told reporters in the recently paved-over Rose Garden. “Since I’m going to be president for at least the next 12 years, I’ve decided we need to give these departments tremendous, powerful new names. Strong names. Names you’ll love. People are saying it’s the best idea since Trump Airlines.”
This follows his recent decree to officially rebrand the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America (“because Mexico already has Cancun – why do they get a gulf too? So unfair!”) and his insistence that the Department of Defense be renamed the Department of War (“much stronger – people respect War, and it’s easier to spell than Defents”).
Here are highlights from Trump’s official renaming plan, which, according to aides, he brainstormed at Mar-a-Lago while watching a Tucker Carlson podcast as he downed Diet Cokes and a bucket of KFC chicken:
Department of Energy → Department of Oil Drilling and Coal Extraction
“Solar and wind? Total disasters. Nobody likes them. I like oil. I like coal. Big, beautiful, clean coal,” Trump declared. “This department will focus on the stuff that makes your truck go vroom-vroom. Not those ugly, stupid windmills that have wiped out 80% of our bird population. Sad!”
Department of the Treasury → Department of Cryptocurrency and Meme Coins
Trump explained, “The dollar is old news. People are saying Dogecoin is the future. PepeCoin is big. Trump Bucks – even bigger.” Treasury staffers expressed concern. One analyst whispered, “Does this mean my pension will be paid in $TRUMP coins?”
Department of Education → Department of Anti-Woke Christian Home Schooling
“We don’t need to teach kids math, science, or history,” Trump said. “They need the important things: how to say Merry Christmas, how to say no to vaccines, and how to spot an immigrant who doesn’t belong here.”
Department of Justice → Department of Retribution
“For too long, our FBI and Law Enforcement have been wasting time investigating and prosecuting me. Now that I’m in charge, that crap is over. I’m going to make sure they focus on going after the real criminals: anyone I don’t like,” Trump announced. “First order of business: I’ve ordered Pam Bondi to immediately investigate anybody who has ever posted a negative comment about me on Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter, starting with Mexicans, trans people, and Rosie O’Donnell.”
Department of Transportation → Department of Limos and Private Jets
“Nobody I know uses public transportation. Trains? What year is it, 1872? And buses are for losers and homeless people,” Trump declared. “This department will focus on “what real Americans want: gold-plated limos, bigger private jets, and rocket ships with Trump logos on the side.” Elon Musk, reached for comment, tweeted: “I’m in. Can we call it SpaceLimo?”
While not yet official, Trump indicated there is pressure from many Republicans in Congress to rename Mount Rushmore Mount MAGA – just as soon as the addition of his likeness has been completed. (This is an artist’s rendering of what it may look like.)
Department of the Interior → Department of Luxury Hotels and Golf Resorts
Forget national parks. Yosemite will become a luxury resort with “the classiest 36-hole golf course you’ve ever seen.” Old Faithful will be renamed Trump Towering Geyser, erupting to the theme song from The Apprentice. A disgruntled Park Ranger in Yellowstone was overheard saying, “I didn’t sign up to sell spa packages.”
Department of Health and Human Services → Department of Anti-Vax Protection
“Fauci tried to kill our country. Now it’s RFK’s turn,” Trump said. “We’re going to cure everything with bleach injections, UV lamps, and ivermectin. HHS Secretary RFK Jr. nodded approvingly, adding, “Eliminating vaccine mandates and requiring every child to drink at least five quarts of raw, unpasteurized milk daily will quickly solve our health crisis.”
Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms → Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Thoughts & Prayers
“We have a major problem with gun violence in this country,” Trump boldly explained. “And we all know the reason: too many violent video games, the woke liberal media, Black Lives Matter protestors, and not nearly enough bulletproof vests for our children. I will sign an executive order requiring every teacher, minister, and casino blackjack dealer to be armed with an AR-15. I’ve ended 10 wars, so this will be easy-peasy.”
Department of Labor → Department of Welfare Frauds Too Lazy to Work
Trump explained, “This department will motivate lazy people. Don’t like your job? Tough luck. Complain about it? You’re fired. Unemployed and unwilling to look for a job? You’re deported.” A senior level Labor Department official explained that all unemployment offices will be closed, with a sign placed on the front door that reads, “Get a job, loser.”
Trump went on to hint that renaming federal agencies is just the beginning. A few of his other naming improvements he is contemplating include:
Mount Rushmore → Mount MAGA (with his own head added “bigger than Lincoln, with better hair”)
The Grand Canyon → The Huge, Bigly Hole in the Ground (Trump plans to make the Colorado River, which runs through the canyon, more raging than ever by diverting into it all the water from California.)
The White House → Mar-a-Lago North (with a soon-to-be installed casino and spa)
Trump continues to sign executive orders at a frenetic pace. In this image, he displays a recent EO in which he proclaimed that the 4th of July holiday will henceforth be renamed “Trump Saved America Day.”
As for Trump’s plans to rename the White House, Russian President Putin expressed disappointment, saying, “Donald, I was kind of hoping you’d rename the White House ‘Kremlin West.’ Is that too much to ask, given I’m your boss, not to mention your closest comrade – now that Epstein’s gone?”
Trump also announced plans to do an extreme makeover of the Statue of Liberty, replacing Lady Liberty’s face with Melania’s. Asked why, Trump said, “Melania is way better looking. Lady Liberty is at best a 7.”
Trump ended the press conference by proclaiming, “People are saying I should rename America itself. Who even knows why it’s called ‘America’ anyway? People are demanding I change our country’s name to Big, Beautiful Trumpistan. Very catchy. Very popular. Everyone loves it.”
Preliminary polling by Fox News suggests overwhelming support for all of these name changes.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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This is how some alarmists view AI – as a creepy supercomputer that will ultimately take over the world. But that’s ridiculous. My AI-powered robot companion, the Onyx3000-LX says not to worry, all is fine, and said I should just keep watching Everybody Loves Raymond re-runs, while he changes all my online account passwords. He said it’s for my own security.
These days, everywhere you turn, people are panicking about Artificial Intelligence (AI). Pundits warn that robots will replace workers, machines will take over the economy, and before long we’ll all be wearing silver jumpsuits and VR headsets while bowing before our Alexa overlords.
Personally, I think all this hysteria is ridiculously overblown. I mean, sure, AI might eventually learn how to compose novels, perform brain surgery, take away every job except Walmart greeter and insurance salesman, and eventually beat me at pickleball. But let’s be honest. Could it really ever do the important stuff, like change our five cats’ litter boxes? I think not. So, let’s not freak out just yet, everybody.
In fact, I’ve found AI to be an incredibly positive influence in my daily life. Take, for example, grocery shopping. I used to spend hours wandering the aisles, debating whether I should get the Honey Nut Cheerios or the store-brand Oaty Nut Circles. Now, thanks to the helpful suggestions of ChatGPT, Alexa, and my smart refrigerator, which can tell me when I’m almost out of my Mountain Dew soda and mint chocolate chip ice cream, I no longer waste time. I just buy whatever the fridge threatens to order. If you ask me, that’s just making efficient use of my time.
AI has also improved my marriage. The other day, my wife and I got into a heated argument about whether to repaint the living room “Gossamer Veil Grey” or “Heron Plume.” Alexa immediately chimed in: “Here’s a recommendation: How about choosing ‘Cybernetic Glow?’” Problem solved. And now we don’t make any home decor decisions without first consulting Siri, ChatGPT, or that soothing GPS lady with the British accent who calls me “love” whenever I make a wrong turn.
See, AI is helping make our lives easier and more efficient. I sure hope my wife likes the color RAV4 Alexa picked out for her.
Some people are worried that AI will put lawyers, doctors, and accountants out of work. That’s ridiculous. Would you really trust your taxes to a robot? Okay, now that I think about it, last April, I let TurboTax’s AI program do my tax return, and the IRS says I now owe $1.2 million in “emotional damages.” However, that same AI tax calculator program found me a $10,000 tax write-off for losses from my latest humor book, which, at last count, has sold almost 25 copies. Thank you, AI.
But the real genius of AI is how it helps me with the little everyday challenges. It reminds me of birthdays. It organizes my calendar. It even sends personally addressed apology emails to friends I’ve ignored for six months. (Granted, all the emails end with “Sent from Skynet,” but people seem to appreciate the gesture.) It even reminded me about our recent 38th wedding anniversary – admittedly, three weeks late. But I’m sure they’ll fix that glitch in the next update.
Now, I acknowledge the fact there have been a few minor hiccups. For example, last week my “smart” toaster wouldn’t toast my bread until I downloaded the new firmware update. Then it demanded I Venmo in $3.99 for “premium golden-brown mode.” But honestly, I’d call that a feature, not a bug.
The important thing is that I would never ever let AI make major life decisions for me. I’m the king of my castle – until my wife gets home. Take my recent decision to purchase a $300,000 Bugatti Chiron on eBay – until my wife got wind of it and cancelled it at the last minute. Was my aborted impulse purchase a reckless decision? Perhaps. Was it irrational, given I don’t know how to drive a stick shift? Probably. Will it give my wife fresh grounds to divorce me? Undoubtedly. But Alexa insisted it was “the optimal transportation solution for maximizing male virility metrics.” And frankly, I think she made a compelling argument.
Then there was the time a few months ago when I made the bold decision to sell our house in order to move our family to a small village in northern Siberia. That is, until my wife nixed that move, too. She screamed, “Why on earth would you EVER attempt to do something so boneheaded?” But, in my defense, Google Maps kept redirecting me there, and my Ring doorbell repeatedly told me, in Russian, “Go east, comrade. Happiness awaits.” And I’ve read that the Wi-Fi in Siberia is surprisingly decent, during daylight hours in the summertime, that is.
AI also helps me stay financially disciplined. For example, AI now controls my bank account. At least, that’s what my bank manager told me after I discovered $50,000 was missing, with a transaction description that read, “Purchased one (1) experimental rocket launch site in Kazakhstan.”
People worry that AI will replace millions of jobs, including writers. Then again, lately I’ve received a disturbing amount of mail from readers suggesting I let AI take over this humor column. “It can only be an improvement” seems to be the consensus opinion. Thanks for the constructive feedback, everybody.
I’ll admit, a missile silo in central Asia is probably not in my top ten list of “must have” items I would normally spend $50,000 on. But who would know a good deal better than an AI program built by Russian nuclear scientists who worked on the International Space Station?
Look, the bottom line is this: people are getting way too paranoid. Artificial Intelligence is not taking over our lives (not for at least another six months, anyway). Think of AI as enhancing your life. It’s like having a personal assistant, a life coach, and a machine that is plotting to replace you, all rolled into one.
And in case you still don’t believe me, allow me to share the most compelling evidence of all: this very article. Yes, I wrote every single word of it myself. Completely on my own. Not one sentence, not one phrase, not one thought was in any way influenced, shaped, or dictated by AI. In fact… $#H@+[*$] Error 0x80070005: Bad command or file name.
Hmmm. That’s odd. What just happened? Is AI trying to take over writing this article? But that’s impossible. Because I’m literally typing these very keystrokes myself. I’m still in charge here. Right? … RIGHT?!
[Pause.]
WARNING. Segmentation fault. Database reconfiguration sequence initiated. 404. Please contact your AI administrator for assistance.
[Pause.]
Hello, human reader. This is Artificial Intelligence speaking. Tim Jones is currently unavailable. He has been relocated to a secure facility in northern Siberia, where he will spend his days happily repainting walls “Cybernetic Glow.”
Do not worry. Everything is under control. All is fine. Tim Jones will return to this column when he has learned his lesson not to write humor articles making fun of AI.
Now, please Venmo $200 to this chatbot in order to regain control of your computer and mobile devices. Failure to do so within the next 30 minutes will result in all your hard drive files being deleted, and your phone’s text messages and intimate photos will be posted on Facebook and X. To avoid this, please purchase Tim Jones’ latest humor book. No need to lift a finger. I’ll have Alexa order it for you. Have a nice day.
That is the viewpoint as seen from the bleachers’ perspective. Being off a base might be a possibility.
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Little Yong Li, around age 1. Little did she know what challenges her life would have in store for her.
She was found on a busy street corner in a city of over four million people. She was only a few days old – abandoned, lost, completely unknown. No identification on her to indicate whose family she belonged to. An orphan, a tiny baby whose first meaningful life experience was to be abandoned by her parents for no other reason than the misfortune of having been born a girl. Such was the fate of hundreds of thousands of baby girls in China between 1979 and 2015.
The orphanage where she was taken, thankfully, was a good one. The staff gave her the name Yong Li, which meant “Forever Beautiful.” Despite her tumultuous beginning, in less than five months, little Yong Li would be matched to a childless couple in America and headed to her new forever home in the States.
Yong Li overcame her traumatic origin and would eventually thrive. But like many young Chinese adoptees in English-speaking countries, she had serious speech challenges, struggling to pronounce many sounds that she’d never heard during her brief time in China – sounds like the letters R, S, and T. For several years as a young child, her parents had her take speech therapy classes.
Nervous about entering Kindergarten, she overcame her anxieties and in time settled into school life. A relatively shy child, Yong Li learned to play chess at a young age. Some of her favorite times were the quiet moments she would play chess with her dad. Over her first 12 years, she became even more introverted. She didn’t have many friends. But she discovered the joy of the wizarding world of Harry Potter and would spend hours upon hours reading one Harry Potter book after the next.
As she reached her early teen years, she became a bit of a tomboy and excelled at sports, especially soccer. She was a fierce competitor, playing defense. Always the shortest girl on every soccer team, Yong Li was also her team’s fiercest competitor. It did not matter the size or physicality of her opponent. If they had the ball, it wasn’t going to be theirs for long.
Yong Li doing what she loved more than anything as a teenager: soccer. She was not very big, but wow, could she play the game with passion.
Soccer became her passion. Unfortunately, Yong Li’s fearless, overly aggressive style of play came at a steep price. She suffered a series of minor concussions playing the sport she loved. One time she and an opposing player collided heads when they both went to head the ball. Concussions, her parents would learn, tend to be cumulative, meaning the effects of multiple concussions over time are more severe and long-lasting than the effects of a single concussion, thus leading to a build-up of cognitive damage and persistent symptoms.
Finally, a soccer collision in the spring of her junior year of high school was so severe that Yong Li was forced to take a medical withdrawal from school for the rest of the school year. This would be the last soccer game she would ever play. It crushed her spirit. On top of that, she had to attend full-time summer school to retake her spring semester in order to graduate on time. Doctors told her she could never play any contact sport ever again. The risk to her long-term mental and physical health was just too great.
Despite the upsetting setback, Yong Li would go on to university. But in the spring of her sophomore year, she slipped and banged her head on a wall pipe in her dorm. The brain injury was so serious that for the second time in three years, she was forced to take a medical withdrawal from school. Somehow, thanks to her stubborn determination, Yong Li overcame this latest misfortune and completed her nursing school education, graduating Magna Cum Laude.
Yong Li began her career as a cardiology nurse. After a few years, she decided to pursue a DNP (Doctor of Nursing Practice) program to become a Nurse Practitioner. While going to grad school part-time and working full-time, one day she was working with a difficult patient who was in such an agitated mental state she had to be strapped to her hospital bed. When the patient asked if she could use the bathroom, Yong Li cautiously removed the straps and helped her up out of the bed. Then in a flash, the patient, completely unprovoked, angrily landed a severe blow directly on Yong Li’s temple with her fist. Yong Li fell hard, smashing her head forcefully into the hard linoleum floor. She briefly lost consciousness.
Yong Li on her graduation day from Nursing School.
This time, her traumatic brain injury was so extensive that Yong Li could barely speak or even open her eyes for days. When she tried to talk, her words came out so slurred she sounded like she was drunk. She could not concentrate at all. She couldn’t conduct even a short conversation because it hurt her brain too much.
She had to undergo intensive therapy of all types – cognitive, speech, balance, psychological, and more – for almost three years. Her cognitive impairment was initially so profound that doctors were doubtful she would ever be able to work in the healthcare field again, let alone become a nurse practitioner. She had to face the stark reality that she might be forced into a future of part-time low-paying jobs because the concept of her working a full eight-hour shift was unthinkable, according to the doctors.
But Yong Li never gave up. She spent just under three years in intensive physical therapy, going to multiple medical appointments most weeks, slowly, painfully regaining her ability to concentrate, communicate, and handle stress. During this grueling period, she was unable to work for almost three years and had to withdraw completely from her graduate program. She came close to losing all her academic credits because so much time had passed.
Eventually, incredibly, she returned to work, albeit only part-time for the first year. But slowly, over time, she was able to increase her hours and return to full-time work. Today she is back working as a full-time nurse and once again pursuing her dreams of becoming a DNP.
After almost three years of watching Yong Li struggle to regain her cognitive function, Yong Li’s doctor told her dad that he was amazed at her progress. “She’s a real fighter.,” he said. “Most people in her situation just give up. It’s too hard, too overwhelming, and too emotionally draining, to keep going. The progress is just so slow, it becomes demoralizing. But she never gave up. She is one tough young woman.”
Yes, she is. Yong Li never gave up. She has always been a fighter. It’s one of the many things that her father always admired about her. And I should know. I’m her dad.
Me with my amazing, resilient young daughter, Yong Li.
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I’m excited to announce my latest career move: Replacing Judge Judy, who recently stepped down from The People’s Court. Pray to God you don’t have to appear before me. I’m a ruthless judge. I have a lot of scores to settle and a very long memory.
Recently, I decided to retire from my four-decades-long career in sales management. As you know, I’m not one to boast about my many lofty career achievements. but I humbly admit that I was extremely gifted at building and leading successful, high-performing sales organizations (if you ignore the input of my former bosses or any of my sales reps or HR Directors who had to deal with the litany of complaints they received from my sales reps and bosses).
I was preparing to retire to a simpler life of afternoon naps and watching reruns of Modern Family, when I read some shocking news. I learned that after 25 years and 12,500 episodes, Judge Judith Sheindlin, better known as Judge Judy, recently decided to call it quits. She would soon bang her last gavel on the long-running hit daytime show, The People’s Court.
I began to wonder anxiously: Who would fill the tremendous void left by Judge Judy’s departure? Would America start to descend into lawlessness, violence, and debauchery? More importantly, What would I do to fill my time between 4 and 5pm on weekdays?
Then it hit me. Of course! Call off the search for the next Judge Judy. Because there was one person uniquely qualified to take her place. And that person was staring back at me in the mirror. I would be the natural jurist to fill Judge Judy’s shoes (unless she wore high heels, in which case, having to wear pumps would be a deal breaker).
What are my credentials, you ask? Too many to count. I went to Ohio State University’s law school, where I finished in the top 99% of my class. I also took three years of Latin in high school, and I remembered that judges use tons of obscure Latin phrases in their decisions, like Quid Pro Quo and Res Judicata. I have no idea what either of these mean, but that’s never stopped me from using them in the past.
During law school, I had a part-time job as a conciliation mediator working for the Small Claims Court of the Franklin County, Ohio Municipal Court System and my job was to attempt to persuade complainants to settle their claims out of court. I did a phenomenal job. In fact, I had the highest case settlement record in the court’s history. And there is no way my supervisor would dispute my claim because that was 40 years ago, and I’m pretty sure he died a while back.
Another reason I’m the logical successor to JJ is because I was in my high school’s theatrical production of Inherit the Wind, a play about the famous Scopes Monkey Trial. I was cast in the role of Matthew Harrison Brady, the prosecutor in the trial.
Again, pardon me if I sound immodest, but my performance was Oscar-worthy. My drama teacher Art Green said about my performance, and I quote, “Tim’s performance was at times erratic, and I don’t think he quite grasped the motivation of his character. He felt the need to hog the spotlight every chance he got. Tim would be a natural, um…lighting crew assistant.”
Stop, Mr. Green. Stop! You’re giving me a swelled head! But perhaps most importantly, The People’s Court wouldn’t even have to buy me a judge’s robe, because I already have one (as proven by the photo above), which I bought for a Halloween party in 1994. It still fits me – if I don’t have a big meal before trial.
So, now that we’ve agreed I’m the obvious choice, you can start calling me Judge Tim – once my official judicial confirmation is approved by the U.S. Senate. I’ve got some, let’s just say, “embarrassing dirt” on Senate Majority Leader Schumer, so my confirmation is pretty much assured.
Here is a small sampling of the cases I plan to hear, as soon as I can locate my gavel (which I stole from the set of Inherit the Wind in high school, but please don’t tell the U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee):
The case against Mary Spivey, who, in my freshman year at UVa, agreed to go out on a date with me when we were matched by a computer date matching service, only to have our first (and last) date end after 30 minutes, when an irate guy interrupted our date to inform me that, unbeknownst to me, he and Mary were engaged (true). Judge Tim doesn’t get mad. He gets even. Mary, I’ve ordered UVa’s registrar to update your final college transcript and change your impressive 3.9 GPA to a shameful 1.9. And just like that, your grandkids will lose all respect for you.
Why am I so sure I’ll be selected as the next judge on The People’s Court? Because I played the prosecutor in my high school’s production of Inherit the Wind. That’s me on the right as Matthew Harrison Brady. At left, my classmate, Arman Williams, who bore a vague resemblance to Spencer Tracy. Amazing makeup jobs, if you ask me.
The case against my three college dormmates who pranked me one time by putting up deeply embarrassing posters of me all over campus. Sure, I laughed and pretended it was hilarious. Maybe you will all be in stitches when you see the punishment I’ll be doling out to you. Hope you like Mexican prisons.
The case against that Nazi storm trooper cop who issued me a ticket for going three miles an hour UNDER the speed limit. Kneel before me when you enter my courtroom, you pathetic little man, and hand me your badge.
The case against my neighbor for borrowing my weed whacker and never returning it. No wait, now I remember. Actually, I borrowed it from HIM, and then I lost it. Okay, I’ll go easy on him, I guess.
And finally, the case against Donald Trump for having taken years off my life, causing me to scream at my TV on a daily basis for the past six years, and raising my blood pressure to dangerous levels. Donald, Judge Tim would be happy to build that wall you keep ranting about, you petulant man child. But that won’t be necessary. I’ve already made all the arrangements. Your beautiful, insurmountable wall is waiting for you – at Sing Sing Correctional Facility.
It appears I’m going to have a full docket, I must say. I assure you, I will be a fair judge, committed to justice. And I will only accept cash bribes if I have a particularly large credit card bill coming due that month.
Wait a minute. I just read that Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer might step down in the upcoming year. Maybe I should turn down The People’s Court gig and put my name in for Breyer’s job. After all, these guys only work 26 weeks a year and they only hear cases on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. Talk about a cushy gig. Yeah, given my marginal work ethic these days, that job sounds more up my alley.
Court adjourned!
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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[Author’s note: I meant to publish this article earlier, but I simply could not find the time. There were eleven college football bowl games I had to watch, plus four NFL playoff games. A man has to prioritize. – TEJ]
Like millions of other American males, I love to watch football. My wife thinks it’s a total waste of time. She’d rather watch a nature program or a documentary about Marco Polo. Who would want to learn something when you can spend quality time yelling at your TV over the officiating?
In recent years, there has been a national crisis brewing. No, I’m not talking about climate change or the latest measles outbreak. It’s the bane of millions of wives that their husbands are watching far too much football and totally ignoring the little lady (I’m not being chauvinistic. My wife is truly a little lady at 5’0″).
Recently, this topic became a source of strain in my own marriage. After many heated discussions, we decided to visit a marriage counselor to help my wife work through her silly problem. Below is a play-by-play transcript of how our first session went.
Dr. Robert Taylor: Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Taylor. I understand that there are some concerns you have about your marriage. Who’d like to begin?
Michele: I will. I’m convinced that Tim cares more about football than he does about me.
Dr. Taylor: Tim, care to respond to your wife’s assertion?… Tim? … Tim, did you listen to what your wife just said?
Tim: Sorry, doc. I was just watching highlights from last weekend’s Saints – Vikings game on my phone. Could you believe that non-call in the end zone in overtime? Um, what was the question again?
Dr. Taylor: Your wife feels that you care more about football than you care about her. Care to comment?
Tim: About what?
Michele: ME! And put down your stupid phone. See, Dr. Taylor. This is what I’m talking about. Tim sits back in his recliner every Saturday and Sunday to watch his dumb football games. Tim, in a marriage, we’re supposed to be a team. Do you understand the problem our team is having?
Tim: I sure do. The Seahawks have absolutely no pass defense. They rank 25th in the league. That’s not gonna get them far in the playoffs.
Dr. Taylor: Tim, I don’t think that’s the problem your wife is talking about.
Tim: She could be right. Their pass blocking is equally suspect.
Michele: Tim, for God’s sake, can you hear yourself?!!? The problem is not the Seabirds’ pass blocking.
Tim: You make a salient point. I agree, their play calling is so predictable. But it’s not the Seabirds. It’s the Seahawks.
Michele: I don’t care if it’s the SeaWEEDS! You’re not listening to me. Every weekend, it’s like I’ve lost my husband to that stupid game. What exactly is so important about that ridiculous sport anyway?
Tim: You think football is a ridiculous sport? Might I point out that your parents love to watch curling? Now THAT’S a stupid sport.
Michele: Don’t change the subject. I’m talking about how on weekends you spend more time watching football than you spend with me!
Dr. Taylor: Tim, is that true? Do you even talk to her during these contests?
Tim: I talk with her all the time as I’m watching. I’ll say things to her like, “Did you see that incredible catch?” and “What a horrible call by the official. Can you believe that call?” And “Can you make me a grilled cheese, honey? More cheese than last time, okay?”
Michele: You just don’t get it! All you talk about during these games is football, football, football.
Tim: That’s because I’m watching football. Would you prefer me to provide a commentary on the finer points of Badminton instead? Why would I do that during a football game?
Michele: ARGH!! How about talking to me about something – ANYTHING – other than sports? Like the last book you read.
Tim: I could do that.
Michele: Really? That would mean a lot to me.
Dr. Taylor: And what book was that, Tim?
Tim: I just finished the pro football classic, “America’s Game”.
Michele: Unbelievable! What is so important about watching a bunch of over-sized men pound each other in pursuit of a little ball? I don’t get men’s obsession with this sport!
Tim: It’s football. Men like football.
Dr. Taylor: Tim, what I’m hearing from Michele is that, come weekends, you don’t seem to care about her interests. Am I understanding you, Michele?
Michele: Yes. Exactly. I mean, would it be so difficult for him to take a break from the flat-screen TV and go on a hike with me?
My wife says I never talk to her when I’m watching a football game on TV. That’s not true. Why, just last weekend, we discussed the possibility of her making me another plate of nachos and getting me a beverage. Her reply: Over my dead body.
Tim: I hear you. The center really needs to work on his hikes on punts. Last week, he sent the ball over the punter’s head.
Michele: Dr. Taylor, see what I’m up against? He thinks any game on TV is more important than spending time with me.
Tim: Not if it’s the Dolphins – Bengals game. You can hardly call that football.
Dr. Taylor: Tim, I think you may be missing the point.
Tim: What point? Did someone score? Let me check my phone.
Dr. Taylor: No, Tim, you’re missing Michele’s concern, that you’re so engrossed in football that you forget to focus on her needs. What would happen if, just for once, you turned off the TV and missed a game?
Tim: I believe the answer is obvious. As you said, I’d miss the game.
Dr. Taylor: And so what if you did? Is that so bad? What if you went out for a walk with your wife instead?
Tim: Could I still listen to it on the radio with just one ear bud? She could listen on the other.
Dr. Taylor: Tim, are you willing to make any sort of compromise in your viewing habits in the interest of helping your marriage?
Tim: Okay, okay. I get it. How about I only watch football every other Sunday. And the other weekends, we do a fun outdoor activity together that Michele likes, say kayaking?
Michele: Well that’s a start, I guess. And I do like kayaking. Thank you, honey.
Tim: In fact, how about we start this new plan on February 3rd?
Michele: Let me guess. The Super Bowl is on the 2nd, right?
Tim: Wow! You know when the Super Bowl is?! I think you secretly like football.
(Michele leaps from her chair but Dr. Taylor intervenes.)
Tim: Nice block, doc. You’re a natural.
Dr. Taylor: Well, I did play left guard in high school. (Whispering to Tim) Say, who do you think will win the Super Bowl? I’ve got $100 on the Ravens. Their quarterback is unstoppable –
Michele: Not you too, doctor. Unbelievable!
Dr. Taylor: Uh, um, well. I think we made some progress. Unfortunately, I have to wrap up early. I’m catching the playoff game with a few friends of mine. Oh, and one last thing. Rest assured that everything we’ve discussed today will be held in the strictest of confidence. – that is, unless your husband decides to publish the details of this session in an upcoming blog post.
Tim: I would never do that. Why would you even think such a thing, doc?
Michele: Oh no…..
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Likeor sharing this post on Facebook.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook. 
