This is Bad Bunny. His halftime performance at the 2026 Super Bowl was appalling. He never spoke a single word in English – not even so much as a “How’s it going, San Francisco?” Worse, I can’t pull off wearing white nearly as well as he does.
[Note: This week’s column was written by guest opinion writer, Ima Bigette, a proud, patriotic, God-fearing, gun-toting MAGA supporter, who has strong opinions about this year’s Super Bowl halftime performance by Bad Bunny. Below is her commentary. Please note that Ms. Bigette’s opinions do not necessarily reflect the views of VFTB nor Tim Jones. In fact, Tim Jones is on vacation this week and doesn’t even know we are running this piece. Please don’t tell him, okay?]
I have tried to remain calm about this. I have tried to breathe deeply. I’m a citizen of the world. I once ate at a Taco Bell in a Des Moines, Iowa strip mall without asking for a translation of the word “chalupa.”
There I was, settled into my recliner with a bucket of Buffalo Wild Wings and a sense of patriotic pride, ready to watch Bad Bunny perform the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show. Now, I’ve heard the rumors that Bad Bunny – if that’s even his real name (personally, I doubt it) – hails from the country of Puerto Rico. I checked a map, and Puerto Rico is close enough to the United States that he should have known better. But in his loud, angry performance Mr. Bunny refused – REFUSED – to sing a single song in English. Not one.
So, what did we get instead? For 13 agonizing minutes, this man shouted words that sounded like a blender full of marbles and vowels. Not a single “God Bless America.” Not even a “Hey baby, how’s it going?” It was all despacito this and corazón that. I sat there, my buffalo sauce cooling in a pool of righteous indignation, realizing that America was being targeted. This wasn’t just a musical performance; it was a calculated, linguistic embargo against the ears of every freedom-loving American.
This is how it all starts, folks. First, it’s a halftime show in Spanish. Next thing you know, we’re being asked to order Tagliatelle alla Bolognese using the correct Italian pronunciation.
I have seen this before. Take Luciano Pavarotti. For years, this man was hailed as a “legend.” People paid hundreds of dollars to watch him stand on a stage, sweating profusely, and scream in Italian for three hours. Did he ever once consider singing Rigoletto in a language we could understand? No. It was always Italian. As if opera originated there or something.
He stubbornly clung to his Italian, clearly signaling his deep-seated resentment for the people who invented the Philly Cheesesteak. Every time he sang Puccini’s aria Nessun Dorma, I knew what he meant: “None of you Yankees will understand this.” Such contempt.
Then there’s Pope Leo. I see him on the news, standing on that balcony in the Vatican, waving to the crowds. He’s an AMERICAN, for God’s sake! And yet, what does he do? He has the nerve to conduct his masses in Latin. Latin! A dead language! Do you know who else speaks Latin? Nobody! Except, apparently, people who want to keep Americans in the dark about reuniting with Jesus in Heaven.
It’s a classic power move. He’s up there, cloaked in white, probably whispering recipes for secret pasta sauces or disparaging Americans’ obsession with pickup trucks, knowing full well that the average Joe in Omaha hasn’t brushed up on his declensions since the ninth grade. It’s a “Thesaurus of Hostility” wrapped in a cassock.
Clearly, Pavarotti hated America. For decades, he sang arias and flatly refused to sing any songs in English. I also suspect he’s a terrorist, based on his bushy beard.
Then there’s the Olympics. I was recently watching the Milan Winter Games, and after a thrilling ski event, a member of the French team grabs the microphone and just starts speaking French. On international television. As if we wouldn’t notice. I don’t know what he was saying, but I can only assume it was something like, “Those Americans – Ha! Their cheese comes in aerosol cans.” And the rest of the team nodded. In French.
Even soccer – sorry, “football” – the global sport that refuses to call itself by its proper American name. When Lionel Messi – who plays for Miami in a USA soccer league – gives interviews, does he say, “First off, I’d like to thank the great city of Miami?” No. It’s all Spanish all the time. Rapid-fire Spanish. Probably discussing how confusing our football is because we use our hands. While watching the World Cup, I once heard the German national anthem performed entirely in German. I assume that was deliberate.
The hostility doesn’t stop there. Let’s talk about Emmanuel Macron, France’s president. I have yet to hear him give a State of the Union address in English. You’d think at some point he’d look into the camera and say, “Howdy, partners.” After all, we’re allies! (At least we used to be, anyway.) But no. It’s always French. Long, sentences filled with indecipherable words like liberté or château or café – with all these accent marks on top of them like they’re wearing tiny French berets.
And what about the pop band BTS? For years they released massive global hits in Korean. Teenage girls all across America were forced to memorize lyrics phonetically, singing along even though they had no idea what the words meant. For all I know, they were all pledging allegiance to Korea, or worse, to Hyundai.
This is the pattern. People everywhere living in their own countries, speaking their own languages, creating art in their own cultures – without once checking whether I personally can understand it while I scarf down my nachos and Piña Colada.
Check out the menu from this Italian restaurant. Every word is in a foreign language. Let me translate. It says, “I’m never going to eat at this establishment. I’ll go to Taco Bell. Their menu is in English, as God intended it.”
And now Bad Bunny has brought it to the Super Bowl stage. Look, I’m not unreasonable. I’m simply asking for a modest compromise: before any international figure speaks, sings, governs, performs, competes, films, chants, or blesses – just take a moment and ask, “Will this confuse a white guy in Missouri?” Is that so much to ask?
From now on, I’m taking a stand. If a movie has subtitles, I’m not watching it. If a menu is written in Greek or doesn’t have a cheeseburger on it, I’m outta there. And the next time I’m in France and I come across a local, I’m going to look them right in the eye and speak very slowly and very loudly IN ENGLISH – until they admit that they know English perfectly well. They’re just too lazy to use the only language that really matters.
And a final message to Mr. Bunny: If English was good enough for the guys who wrote the Bible, it’s good enough for the Super Bowl. Adios, Amigo.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps Ima off base.
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Eye Witness News reports a Nebraska farmer has been spotted terrorizing local NYC citizens by passing them by on the street, saying “Hello” and other unsettling overly friendly expressions.
Anchorman: Good evening and Welcome to Eye Witness News. I’m Sonny Vabich. This just in: A sixty-three-year-old Midwestern man visiting New York City for the first time has been accused of terrorizing New Yorkers on their way to work. From several eye witness accounts, this man, who claims his name is Earl Pickens, has been spotted approaching people minding their own business and saying unsettling things to them like, “Hello” and “Nice weather we’re having today, eh?”
Believed to be a wheat farmer from Nebraska, Mr. Pickens has been seen walking up to complete strangers in several parts of Manhattan, suspiciously asking for directions to places like the Empire State Building and even the Statue of Liberty. In just a matter of hours Pickens has left several New Yorkers traumatized by his repeated attempts to interact with them in a friendly, cheerful manner. We turn to our reporter on the scene, Woody Dewitt. Woody, what can you tell us about this latest incident that’s putting so many New Yorkers on edge?
Reporter Woody Dewitt: Thanks, Sonny. Based on security footage, we’ve determined that Pickens arrived at Penn Station in the heart of Manhattan at approximately 8:57am at the peak of the morning commute. He had boarded the AirTrain rail line from Newark International Airport earlier that morning. He had already attempted to say hi to several airline passengers at the Newark Airport baggage claim – even offering to assist one person in retrieving their luggage from the carousel. But he was quickly told, “Get away from me, you creep,” after which Pickens reportedly quietly left the scene, uttering words to the effect of “I am so sorry. I apologize. Please have a nice day.”
One anxious commuter at Penn Station recalled seeing a tall man in jeans and a plaid shirt later identified as Pickens accosting their co-worker, saying, and I quote, “Pardon me, ma’am. Do you know which way to Times Square?” unquote. He left several worried commuters here unsure why a man they did not know was talking to them, not to mention smiling. [Cut to a local eye witness.]
Local eye witness: He made direct eye contact with me. His face was no more than three feet from mine. And then he said, completely unprovoked by me, mind you, “Good morning.” I was speechless. I thought perhaps he was on drugs and might try to hit me up for money. Or perhaps he wanted to mug me. I had no idea. I was terrified. But something in his tone suggested that this might be a greeting. Thankfully, there were several police officers nearby, so they intervened to rescue me from a situation that could have turned bad, although, now that I think about it, probably not.
Reporter Woody Dewitt: While Pickens was standing in line at a Dunkin Donuts, a SWAT team of six New York City police officers quickly identified him when they overheard him say, “Thank you, Have a nice day,” to the clerk. He was taken into custody to await further questioning. However, he was released a few hours later when it was determined by the Manhattan District Attorney’s office that friendliness towards strangers is not currently considered to be a crime in New York. Outside the station, Pickens issued a brief statement. [Cut to Mr. Pickens reading from a written statement.]
This is actual security camera footage of Mr. Pickens seen accosting an unsuspecting New York commuter and wishing her to “have a nice day.” She immediately called 911 to report the shocking incident.
Earl Pickens: Where I come from in Nebraska, it is okay to greet strangers and tell them to have a nice day. I did not know that such behavior is not tolerated here in New York City. I deeply apologize to anyone I may have offended or to whom I may have caused emotional distress. I did not mean to cause anyone to panic when I carelessly uttered words like “Nice day, eh?” and “Thank you.” Would it be okay for me to go now?
Anchorman Sonny Vabich: Woody, what should New Yorkers do if they find themselves approached by an out-of-towner, from, say, Iowa or Minnesota?
Reporter Woody Dewitt: While there is no one response for every possible encounter with an overly friendly visitor, police recommend you avoid making eye contact. If you’re approached by one of these freaks, it’s best to put your headphones on and keep your head down. You have no idea what nice sentiment they may attempt to verbalize with you or one of your family members. And failing that, if someone you don’t recognize confronts you, say, to ask for directions to the Bubba Gump Shrimp company, wishes you a good morning, or otherwise tries to engage you, the best advice is to tell them in a fractured, foreign accent, “No speak-a-duh-Engleeese.” Then walk briskly towards the nearest Starbucks.
Anchorman Sonny Vabich: Sounds like smart advice. Thanks, Woody. And after a quick commercial break, what should you do if an elderly lady with a foreign accent attempts to sit next to you on the subway? More on that next.
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This is journalist Steve Hartman of CBS News. If I could wave a wand and create the perfect job for me, it would be HIS JOB – sharing the true-life stories of average, everyday people going to extraordinary lengths to help out other good people in need.
A few years ago, someone asked me whether I had any heroes. Answer: Fred Rogers (“Mr. Rogers”). He preached the values of kindness, empathy, and finding the good in every person. I even wrote about why I viewed him as my hero.
More recently, someone asked me to describe my ideal career. I’m retired but if I still wanted to be working, my ideal position would be Steve Hartman’s job. He literally has THE BEST JOB IN THE WORLD – well, okay maybe second after playing with pandas.
Who is Steve Hartman and what is his job? He’s a journalist for CBS News. Since 2011, he has hosted a weekly segment on the CBS Evening News called On the Road. His role is to share stories of good people helping other folks in need. I see his job as looking for evidence that angels are present among us and then going about to prove their existence in the form of extraordinarily selfless individuals – week after week after week.
You probably have never heard of any of the people Steve talks about in his stories. He sits down with janitors, middle school teachers, autistic kids, firefighters, bus drivers, elderly shut-ins, and people of all ages and backgrounds grappling with some of the challenges of life. Many are from middle- and lower-income families from the heartland of America. And in every story, he discovers everyday people doing incredibly magnanimous acts of kindness and compassion to help someone in their community who is trying, with difficulty, to find their place in the world.
Layla meets a real-life Cinderella at a wedding and the two have become best friends. From On the Road with Steve Hartman.
There is the story of Layla and Olivia. Layla was a five-year-old autistic girl who was afraid to talk to anyone other than immediate family. But she loved Cinderella. Then she met Cinderella in person one day in the park. It turned out that the person Layla thought was Cinderella was actually Olivia Sparks, a heavy equipment operator, who was wearing a white “princess” dress on her wedding day.
Layla thought Olivia was Cinderella, in her beautiful gown. And Olivia decided to play along – even though it was her wedding day. The two became fast friends, and Olivia eventually launched a Go-Fund-Me campaign to send Layla to meet “the real Cinderella” – at Disneyland.
Or the story of Wade Milyard, a retired police officer in Frederick, MD. While still a cop, he went to a homeless encampment, responding to a domestic dispute. He saw the worn and dirty clothes everywhere and asked the couple, “How do you do your laundry?”“We wash it in the creek,” they responded – a heavily polluted creek. This inspired him to purchase a truck and convert it into a traveling laundromat, which to this day he drives to homeless communities and does their laundry for free. He just wanted to do a small part to take some of the burden off the lives of people living in dire circumstances.
Eighth Grader Jarmarion Styles (#2 in the front row) was born with no hands and almost no arms. But the basketball coach let him join the team anyway. And then a miracle happened. From On the Road with Steve Hartman.
Or the story of Jamarion Styles, a fourteen-year-old boy from Boca Raton, FL, who kept getting rejected when he tried to play basketball in the playground with the other kids. Why? Because he didn’t possess hands. But he was determined to play, despite his disability. So, in eighth grade, he asked his middle school’s basketball coach to give him a tryout. The coach was so impressed by Jamarion’s relentless positivity and determination that he picked him for the team. And when he finally got a chance to play, he sank a three-pointer… and another three-pointer… at the buzzer – all thanks to a coach who believed in him.
Or the story of Francis Aproku, a custodian at James Madison High School in Vienna, VA. He had very little savings. But he worked tirelessly for years to save enough money to send some back to his family in Ghana. Several boys on the school’s football team became friends with Francis and casually asked him one day, “If you could have one thing that might seem impossible, what would it be?” He told them “a Jeep Wrangler” – never actually giving this pipe dream a second thought. Several months later, the boys had raised enough money to buy him the very car of his dreams. He was so overwhelmed by their kindness, he collapsed in tears of joy, in utter disbelief that people could be so kind.
Molly Schaeffer struggled with social anxiety disorder and isolated herself from all her classmates at high school. But eventually she found a remarkable way to make a connection – through painting portraits of her classmates. From On the Road with Steve Hartman.
Or the time Molly Schaeffer of Waunakee, WI decided to do something to overcome her emotionally crippling social anxiety disorder. Over the years, she had become increasingly isolated, all but invisible to most of her classmates. But rather than feel sorry for herself, she attempted to connect with her classmates in a most unusual way – by devoting over 600 hours painting 44 individual portraits of her classmates. She presented them her portraits at the end of the year, leaving all of them speechless, in awe of her talent and generosity. This began an entirely new chapter in her life, gaining new friendships she never had before.
Since 2011, Steve Hartman has produced several hundred On the Road segments, most of them about three minutes long. You can see some of them here. He has, to my mind, the greatest job in the world: meeting everyday people who have performed extraordinary acts of determination, selflessness, compassion, and love, to help others around them who are struggling. And he gets to share these inspirational stories with the world.
In preparing for this piece, I wanted to learn a little bit more about Steve Hartman the person. He has been married to his wife Andrea for 34 years (as of 2025). They live in Catskill, New York and have three children. One of them has autism. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Hartman was an Eagle Scout in high school. Friends who know Hartman well describe him as compassionate, authentic, and an exceptional storyteller who listens patiently and finds joy in life’s small moments. And every day, he gets to travel across America in search of angels among us, to share their remarkable stories and to remind us that if you look close enough, you just might discover that there are generous people doing good deeds all over the world.
It sounds like they found the perfect person to do this important work – the Best Job in the World.
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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Do you suffer from Time Blindness? According to medical experts, if you’re always late to everything, you might have this condition. Sadly there’s no cure – unless you try using an alarm clock for once.
It seems like every month, we learn about a new mental health dysfunction. For example, I’ll bet you’ve never heard of Globophobia. This diagnosis, first issued in 2013, is the irrational fear of balloons. Then there’s Arachibutyrophobia, a fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one’s mouth. As a child I had a beagle that suffered from this. I gave him a slice of bread with peanut butter on top, he chomped down on it, and struggled for the longest time just to open his mouth. I don’t think he ever forgave me.
Then there’s Alien Hand Syndrome (AHS), a rare medical condition in which the person loses total bodily control of one of their hands – something that attacks me whenever I play pickleball and invariably end up blowing the final point to lose the game, as I send the ball soaring wildly out of bounds.
It’s time to add another unusual mental disorder to the ever-growing list: an enigmatic condition known as Time Blindness. It’s a peculiar phenomenon where the victim is crippled by a severe inability to gauge how much time has elapsed or estimate how long a task will take. As a result, Time Blinders as they are called tend to be chronically late …for everything.
People who, like me, have mild to moderate ADD, are more prone to lose track of time because… where did I put my keys? I wonder when the next episode of Yellowstone will come out. Um… where was I? Oh right. Time Blindness. You may have a family member who suffers from this malady. Don’t scoff. It’s become a widespread mental health crisis. In fact, medical experts estimate 85% of people under the age of 30 who routinely watch TikTok videos on their phone experience this condition on an hourly basis. Don’t believe me? Just ask their parents.
I have tremendous empathy for these punctually impaired individuals. Imagine how difficult their lives must be. They set off for the grocery store to get a couple items, telling their girlfriend, “I’ll be home in 30 minutes with dessert” only to return two hours later, having purchased 40% of the bakery section’s inventory of pies and cakes – not to mention bringing home an impressive collection of new gardening tools, thanks to an unplanned side trip to the ACE hardware store because they saw they were having a 15% off sale. It’s as if their concept of time operates on a secret cosmic calendar that only they can decipher.
Victims of Time Blindness are late for everything – doctor’s appointments, romantic rendezvous, even driving their spouse to the airport. When you and your friends are waiting for one of these sufferers to meet up at the pub, and you receive a text telling you, “Almost there,” that’s not good. You and your buddies are in for a bit of a wait. The Time Blinder sent this text as they were about to leave their house – which is a good 45 minutes from where you are. I suggest you go ahead and order a round of hot wings while you wait.
Sufferers of Time Blindness tend to under-estimate how long it takes to do things, and as a result are chronically late. Sadly, Barry was late for his job interview and didn’t get the job. Fortunately, Barry dodged a bullet. He would have hated this job.
When Time Blinders email their boss, “I’ll have that report for you in an hour,” the boss shouldn’t stress out when six hours later, they receive another email with the subject line, “Almost done – just another couple of hours” It’s not the employee’s fault. They’re time blind. They can no more tell the difference between one hour and five than they could distinguish between a tuba and a French horn.
Oh, sure. Some naysayers might argue that Time Blindness is just a fancy medical-sounding name for ordinary procrastination – an excuse for self-absorbed narcissists to be rudely late, only thinking about their own priorities and ignoring the impact their chronic tardiness has on everybody else. And to that I say, um, er…um, Hmm. I see where you’re coming from, dear wife of mine.
It’s important not to judge these people too harshly – unless they’re your spouse, and this is the third time this week they kept you waiting twenty minutes while they tried to make up their mind about which earrings go with which outfit. My point is, in most cases, people struggling with this temporal distortion honestly just lose track of time. They don’t mean to be rude – except for my nephew Harold, who is never on time for anything. He’s just a jerk.
Often the chronologically challenged become so engrossed in whatever it is they’re focused on that time seems to stand still. Is it their fault that they accidentally got so distracted while binge-watching the final five episodes of Season Four of Succession that they totally forgot about your wedding? … Oh, you say they were the Best Man? And they had the wedding rings? Oh my. Well, then I definitely wouldn’t invite them to join you on your honeymoon.
This is Blake. He’s been playing Call of Duty for the past 14 hours. He totally forgot about his date with Jessica. He lost track of time. You may say Blake is an irresponsible, self-absorbed slacker. Experts say he’s a victim of Time Blindness. Experts are idiots.
Currently there is no known cure for Time Blindness. However, if you ask my wife, these victims could, for once in their lives, maybe just set an alarm on their phone or budget an additional hour to complete a task. I think we’ve just solved this medical crisis. That wasn’t so hard after all.
Of course, my wife has zero sympathy for people who are perpetually late. She has her own suggestion for how to cure them of their disorder: The next time you need to leave for the airport for a trip, and they’re not ready: LEAVE WITHOUT THEM. Let them miss the flight.
I hear where she’s coming from. But it’s not that simple. It was an NFL playoff game and it went into Double Overtime. I couldn’t just abandon my Seattle Seahawks in their time of need. I’m sure in time, my wife will eventually understand…. Eventually…. Or not.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
A Thirteen-Year-Old, a Disabled Retiree, and a Gay Schnauzer Among Those Detained
A vigilant ICE officer quickly broke up an attempt by a Clearwater, Florida teacher to indoctrinate the impressionable young minds of her kindergarten class. She was feeding them nefarious stories of witchcraft and other anti-Christian pagan themes. The ICE official confiscated evil book, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.
Washington, D.C. – April 13, 2025 – In its latest effort to protect America from vaguely defined threats to freedom, the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) has announced a sweeping series of arrests this week, targeting what President Trump has described as “some of the nastiest hombres” and who ICE officials have identified as “individuals whose behaviors raise substantial flags, not necessarily red, but at least an alarming shade of pink.”
The following is a summary of some of today’s key apprehensions:
Beaumont, Texas – Thirteen-Year-Old Girl Arrested for Religious Inquiry
ICE officials detained 13-year-old Kaitlyn Ramirez, a straight-A student and junior varsity cheerleader, for allegedly googling, “Who is Allah?” while working on a middle school world religions homework assignment. Authorities intercepted the conversation through Kaitlyn’s smart speaker and immediately classified the question as “potentially radicalizing behavior.”
“She should’ve just asked about Zeus,” stated ICE spokesperson Brad Tallwall. “You don’t see kids getting radicalized by Ancient Greece. They just wear togas and yell ‘Opa!'”
Kaitlyn has been placed in a re-education camp where she will learn about more appropriate religious inquiries, such as “Who is the Holy Ghost” and “Who would Jesus deport?”
Boston, Massachusetts – 78-Year-Old Disabled Man Detained for Baseball Curiosity
Clarence Willoughby, 78, was detained Tuesday after asking a Barnes & Noble employee if they carried “a biography about Jackie Robinson.” According to the ICE incident report, Willoughby, who uses a walker and appears to be non-white, “raised suspicions by referring to a known historical activist and someone who once slid aggressively into second base, which was being protected by an unarmed white man just minding his own business.”
Clarence attempted to clarify that he was simply a lifelong baseball fan. ICE remained unmoved, issuing a statement that read, “We’re not saying Mr. Willoughby is un-American, but he did admit to once watching all eight hours of a Ken Burns documentary about Muhammad Ali. How could he not become radicalized after that?”
Mr. Willoughby is currently being held in a minimum-security nostalgia facility, where detainees are required to watch “Hallmark Channel” movies about young white people falling in love on an endless loop until they forget any history that existed before Ronald Reagan was president.
Portland, Oregon – Barista Removed for Using Metric System
ICE agents raided a downtown Portland coffee shop on Thursday morning, apprehending Sierra Moonbeam, 26, after she asked a customer if they wanted a “half-liter cold brew.”
“Using the metric system is a clear sign of sympathizing with non-American forces,” said Deputy ICE Commander Frank Catchem. “We use ounces in this country. Liters are for elite European socialists and enemies of freedom. And besides, she had a hippie peace symbol tattoo on her neck. Sounds like an agitator to me.”
Sierra reportedly tried to explain that her question was prompted by a barista training manual sourced from Canada. ICE dismissed her excuse as “maple-scented propaganda.”
Dayton, Ohio – Father of Two Expelled for Cooking Falafel
ICE arrested Mohammed Patel, a 34-year-old accountant and father of two, after neighbors reported “suspicious smells” coming from his backyard grill. Upon investigation, agents discovered Patel was preparing homemade falafel which he claimed was for a PTA fundraiser.
“We can’t take chances,” said Agent Carl Lahckemup. “That food had spices in it we couldn’t even pronounce. Also, he called his grill a ‘tandoor,’ which might be a code word for something bad.”
Patel has been sent to a Homeland Culinary Adjustment Detention Facility, where he will be retrained in safer American dishes, such as cheeseburgers, baked beans, and Kraft Macaroni & Cheese.
Phoenix, Arizona – Woman Detained for Watching Foreign Cinema
Eliza Grant, 42, a librarian and mother of three, was taken into ICE custody after checking out the 1952 Japanese film Ikiru from her local public library.
“She had subtitles on and everything,” said ICE analyst Tanya Kickemaut. “Next thing you know, she’ll be sipping espresso and saying words like ‘existential.’ We don’t need that kind of French influence spreading. Imagine if there had been impressionable young children nearby!”
Eliza has been assigned mandatory viewing of all nine Fast & Furious movies, to reestablish a sense of traditional American narrative structure and car-based diplomacy.
Mrs. Edna Washington of Duluth, Minnesota was apprehended by ICE agents after she was caught in the act of listening to an audio cassette instructional program called “Beginning Spanish.” Officials, out of an abundance of caution, arrested her on suspicion she might be trying to smuggle illegal Mexicans into the USA to sell fentanyl to minors. She was last seen in an El Salvadoran women’s detention camp.
Miami, Florida – Teen Removed After Saying “Soccer is Better than Football”
ICE officials removed Diego Martinez, 17, from an AP Government class after he made the offensive statement, “Soccer is better than football,” during a classroom debate.
The school resource officer contacted ICE, who cited Diego for “public admiration of an alien sport” and “blatant disrespect of America’s national pastime.”
Diego is currently being held in a suburban juvenile holding facility where he will be required to memorize the rules of the American football, identify at least ten Jimmy Stewart movies, and list his top five favorite Tom Brady moments.
Madison, Wisconsin – Gay Schnauzer Deported After Being Caught Humping a Cat
A nine-year-old male schnauzer named Titus has been deported to a Guatemalan animal detention compound after he was caught attempting to fornicate with a male cat. ICE agents stormed the house where Titus lived after receiving an anonymous tip that “there is some ungodly, depraved homosexual promiscuity going on in the house next door.”
It turned out that Titus has a history of copulating with nonconsenting individuals including multiple attempts to mount other male dogs, a neighborhood goat, and the family’s La-Z-Boy recliner. Titus will enter a canine conversion therapy program, and if that doesn’t work, then he will be neutered.
ICE Defends Actions
In a press conference Friday morning, ICE Deputy Director Linda Shacklesworth defended the agency’s actions. “These individuals may appear harmless,” said Shacklesworth, “but so did jazz musicians in the ’30s, and look where that got us – berets, poetry, and rampant saxophone abuse.”
She added, “This isn’t about where you’re from or what you believe. It’s about ensuring no American citizen feels uncomfortable ever, even for a second, in a public setting about anything suspicious.”
When asked about the growing concern over the vague definition of “suspicious,” Shacklesworth replied, “If you have to ask what constitutes ‘suspicious,’ that just makes you sound awfully suspicious. Watch yourself.”
[Editor’s Note: ICE later clarified that a 4-year-old boy in Nebraska was mistakenly flagged after telling his daycare provider that his favorite food was “quiche.” He was released after agreeing to call it “egg pie with meat.”]
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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[Note: This week’s column was written by guest opinion writer, Ima Bigette, a proud, patriotic, God-fearing, gun-toting MAGA supporter, who has strong opinions about this year’s Super Bowl halftime performance by Bad Bunny. Below is her commentary. Please note that Ms. Bigette’s opinions do not necessarily reflect the views of VFTB nor Tim Jones. In fact, Tim Jones is on vacation this week and doesn’t even know we are running this piece. Please don’t tell him, okay?]
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