There’s an episode of the original Star Trek—my all-time favorite—called “The Doomsday Machine.” In its heart-stopping finale, Captain Kirk is stranded alone on a battered, listing USS Constellation. The starship’s engines are set to overload and timed to explode inside the insidious, remorseless planet crusher. With 30 seconds remaining, Kirk grabs his communicator and says,…
Yesterday marked my last workday of the school year. While other teachers spend weeks reacquainting themselves with their sofas before travel, I’m more of a “get out of Dodge by sundown” type—though in our case, sundown usually finds us hunting phone chargers and stashing Imodium—just in case. Our schedule always revolves around one immovable obligation:…
In case you missed the press release—or the TMZ Business Report that ran after Celebrity Plastic Surgery Bloopers—I can confirm the rumors are true. The iPhone 14 is out, and the 17 Pro is in. A formal pickup ceremony is scheduled for next Friday, with remarks, limited questions, and the kind of solemnity this historic upgrade deserves.
When I walk into the grocery store these days, I feel like a traitor. The bright boxes of cereal, the smiling mascots, even the frozen pizzas seem to glare at me, as if they know I’ve turned against them. Once, I shopped these aisles with loyalty; now, I hunt labels for low carbs and hidden sugars, scanning like a detective on foreign soil. It’s strange how food, so ordinary and familiar, can become a battleground. Every cart, every choice, is a small declaration of where my loyalties now lie.