Fifteenkey

Reminder: AI slop is in royal blue. The rest is original slop.

The saying “The mind is a wonderful servant but a terrible master” is an old proverb, likely Asian in origin, popularized in the West by authors like Robin Sharma, who used it in The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari, and David Foster Wallace, who referenced it in his works, highlighting the idea of using your mind as a tool for problem-solving (servant) rather than being controlled by anxious thoughts and ego (master).

Consider how much thought goes through your mind in 24 hours. I’m talking conscious thought, not all the subconscious processing that keeps our heart beating, our lungs absorbing, and our kidneys and livers filtering. You know, when do I start the pasta so that it’s ready when the chicken parm and zucchini are?

Or why is the Leominster coffee shop so packed that I have to drive across town to the one in Lunenburg?

Or does the difficulty of my first bike ride of the season portend some overall decline of aging or just an early-season shake-off the winter rust struggle?

Or how badly will Trump and his band of incompetents fuck up this situation in the Middle East?

Or how will this chaos impact my retirement investments?

Or is this a time to buy, hold, or sell?

Or how high will oil and gas prices go, and what will the impact be to our overall economy?

Or with DHS/TSA staffing limited due to yet another government shutdown, how long will the security lines be for our flight to Arizona?

Or what will the crowds be like in Sedona?

Or are there really bedbugs in that Grand Canyon hotel?

Or will we get any more snow this season?

Or why don’t they plow the Nashua River Rail Trail like they do the Twin Cities Rail Trail?

Or when is Eliza going to start talking? I know that kid has a lot to say.

Or will there be more layoffs at UKG, and will people I care about be impacted?

Or when is Congress going to fix Social Security? In 2026, the maximum earnings subject to Social Security taxes (the wage base limit) is $ 184,500, so once a person earns that amount, they stop paying into Social Security for the year. For example, it’s estimated that Elon Musk makes $600,000,000 (six-hundred million) a day, so at that rate, it would take Elon approximately 26.57 seconds to earn $184,500. At that point, not 30 seconds past midnight on New Year’s Day, Elon stops contributing to Social Security.

Or will this Weiman glass cooktop cleaner work? Do I need the scouring pad? (Yes and yes)

Or what’s the best deal for me to purchase yoga classes, and will I ever be able to do a Happy Baby pose?

Or is this Costco membership going to be worth it, and what’s their best olive oil?

Or do I have any regrets? That will be the subject of a future post.

Or how the hell would anyone find their way back to Earth from some other galaxy? It’s not like there’s GPS or gas stations to stop and ask.

A: Not easily.
Finding your way back to Earth from another galaxy is practically impossible with current technology, requiring millions of years to travel millions of light-years. Theoretical navigation would require mapping intergalactic, multi-directional gravity forces or using technologies like pulsars and black holes as landmarks, likely necessitating physics beyond our current understanding.

Please note: AI slop is in royal blue. The rest is original slop.

An “earworm,” or Involuntary Musical Imagery (INMI), is a song snippet that plays on a loop in your head, often triggered by stress, fatigue, or hearing a familiar tune.

For mine, I blame Alysa Liu. To cap off her win of the Women’s Singles Olympic Gold Medal in Figure Skating, the 20-year-old wowed the crowd in Milan, skating her long program to Donna Summer’s rendition of MacArthur Park. It’s been stuck in my head since, and the performance was on February 19th. I do hope you got to see Ms. Liu’s performance. She killed it, and in case you can’t read lips, that’s what the fuck she was talking about.

For the record, what’s on loop in my head is the Richard Harris version from 1968. That’s when the earworm was first embedded. It’s been lying in wait since. I host many dormant earworms from those days. My mom always had WRKO-AM playing Top 40 in the house, and it was the soundtrack to long summer days at Revere Beach in the late 60’s and early 70’s.

While cooking on a random night this week, the earworm took over my body, and I involuntarily belted out a bit of the chorus like a person with Tourette’s syndrome, then turned to my wife sitting at the island behind me and blurted, ‘Who left the cake out in the rain? Isn’t “someone” a little vague?’ She shook her head at my INMI-induced tic. “It’s just a metaphor.” She went back to her crocheting, but only after correcting my lyrical misinterpretation. “And it’s sweet green icing, not sweet cream icing.”

“Whatever. It’s cream to me.”

To stop them, try chewing gum, listening to the full song, or distraction.

When to Seek Help
While typically harmless, if the music is exceptionally persistent, distressing, and interferes with daily life, it could be associated with OCD or require consultation with a mental health professional.

I don’t (yet) need help from a mental health professional for this particular bout of earwormitis, but it was written by American songwriter, composer, and singer Jimmy Webb. <- Seriously, check him out. He composed many an earworm. In 1967, Webb wrote “MacArthur Park”; the inspiration for the song was his relationship and breakup with Susie Horton. The breakup was also the primary influence for his 1965 composition “By the Time I Get to Phoenix”.

Speaking of Phoenix, Beth and I will celebrate our first post-retirement vacation starting there, starting soon. My girl has never seen the Grand Canyon, been to Sedona, or experienced the sets of my many University of Arizona yarns. Like that time we drove from Tucson to Boulder, Colorado, to see the Stones… I mean, she’s listening while she crochets, right?

Seven and a half years ago, I wrote, “Approaching the 13th hole,” using 18 holes to demarcate one’s life. Today’s calculation has me realizing I misinterpreted the math back then, and today find myself already off the tee on the 15th, probably looking for my ball in the woods after a slice. Yeah, it can be a frustrating game just thinking about it. “They” say golf is a mental game. Actually, A quote attributed to Jack Nicklaus is, “The game of golf is 90% mental and 10% physical,” but if you think about it, every aspect of life is a mental game. Human physical, cognitive, emotional, social, and spiritual attributes are orchestrated by the brain. Of course, not everyone agrees, but let’s just go with “life is a mental game” for now.

A little over three months ago, I was retired by my former employer. I’d intended to retire at the end of 2025, so getting a six-week paid vacation as part of a severance package gave me time to think about and plan for post-retirement old-guy stuff like Social Security, Medicare, and the supplemental coverages that add up quickly. That’s a convoluted and overly complex process, but it was easy compared to the one I’m still going through. As Pete Townshend asked:

Who are you? Who, who, who, who?

Yeah, one quarter in since “the event,” I’m still in transition, peering across a blank landscape from who I was then, in search of who I am now. I think I may have been more attached to my work/professional identity than I realized. Recently, as I find myself seeking affirmation from social media, I’m curbing those impulses, especially on LinkedIn, where there’s still a psychological pull to be “relevant” and part of the conversation.

So now that my professional identity of “Director in a tech company” has been stripped like Chuck Conners’ stripes in “Branded,” well, “who the fuck are you?” Well, Pete, I guess I’ll start with father, grandfather, husband, and all-around swell guy. OK, I’ll cut that last one. My ego is damaged, so be gentle. As I write, I’m getting some ideas, particularly about teaching my children and grandchildren. Toddler Eliza enjoys hanging with her grandfather, and the feeling is mutual. With her parents both business owners, that “Manny” identity may be increasing. Wait, there’s more. Chef. Cyclist. Writer and aspiring comedian.

Retirement is a mental game and a work in progress.

I love to cook and do most of the meal planning and prep for my family. Now that I’m officially retired, “going out to dinner whenever the hell we want to” has faced budgetary scrutiny. We could do it, but subconsciously, I’m holding back a bit while I get my arms around living on a fixed income. That phrase always makes me smile. Back when my dad was alive and busting balls on the golf course, he’d always go there when the post-18 bar bill arrived, “I’m on a fixed income!” As genetics would have it, that phrase is now a regular in my post-retirement lexicon. 

In the past couple of weeks, the cooking-at-home thing has run into a couple of obstacles. First, the right-front double burner of my electric range now produces heat only from the small inner burner. Second, the microwave above it suffered a sudden death over the weekend. I use it only to thaw frozen stuff, reheat leftovers, and most importantly, froth ⅓ of a cup of oat milk for each cup of coffee in the morning. Still, it is missed. Just today, I had to heat the oat milk in a saucepan and a leftover Super Bowl half a steak and cheese in a sautee pan. I appreciate the analog deceleration of life this provides, but I suspect slow cooking will get old fast.

As is my wont, I spent much of Super Sunday conducting thorough research and hands-on inspections of replacement appliances. Back in 2014, a kitchen reno brought a Whirlpool suite of appliances into my kitchen. My research found that the lifespan of major appliances is roughly 13-15 years, so we’re a tad early on the cooking units, but it doesn’t make financial sense to repair them. The fridge and dishwasher are still fully functional, so my initial research focused on Whirlpool to keep the family together, but the reviews these days aren’t great. In fact, customer opinions aren’t very good on any of the major brands. It’s a capitalism thing. Manufacturers have to improve profit margins every year, so that means cutting costs for humans and the raw materials used to build these things. So, Whirlpool… Didn’t make the cut. 

My strategy now is to settle on a new brand to replace the range and microwave, then deal with the other two when the time comes. Back to research. I’ll tell you, these AI tools rely quite a bit on Reddit threads, and what they show is overall dissatisfaction with appliance brands. Now, Bosch has always been a brand I associate with quality, so I explored it. They have a 100, 300, 500, and 800 series hierarchy, and the 800 had the best reviews and, naturally, the highest price point. The rest of the brands were largely bunched together – GE, LG, Maytag, Frigidaire, Samsung. One brand that piqued my interest and held up in reviews was GE Profile, one of several GE sub-brands. Now to get physical.

Locally, we have Best Buy, Lowe’s, and Home Depot, although I will never give the latter a dime if I can help it, mostly for political reasons, although a large corporation like Lowe’s probably splits their political contributions around to both major parties. We do have a local appliance chain, and I don’t know the owner’s political leanings, and I don’t want to. In any case, I prefer to support a local small business. On Sunday afternoon, I waded through a sea of appliances and got hands-on with some brands to see if I could “feel” a difference in quality. How do the doors open? How do they close? How do the knobs turn? Are there knobs at all? What is the build quality of fit and finish? How are the aesthetics? I want back and forth, literally walking from one unit to the next, opening, closing, feeling, looking. 

After pacing and thinking, I chose units from the Bosch 800 line and opted for the electric, smooth-top range over an induction model. I was introduced to induction cooking during a 2018 trip to Europe, when a non-iron pan just wouldn’t heat up. Yep, magnetize me. From what I now understand, a strong induction burner will boil water about 2x faster than a standard electric stovetop and is slightly more energy-efficient, but not worth the $1,300.00 premium in my opinion.

Delivery and installation will be in a week. Until then, I’ll be heating oat milk and leftovers the old-fashioned way.

Nearly five years ago, I wrote, “Will I cry when I retire?” On November 14, 2025, I was part of yet another “Reduction in Force” (RIF) by UKG, which kicked off the decision process. For the record, I did not cry on that day. I felt a tremendous sorrow, but it was for those who remained, and I fear it’s not going to improve, but that’s for another day. In the aftermath of the layoff, I was unsure whether I would simply retire or carry on in some capacity. I was uncertain about living without a steady paycheck, and concerned about how the loss of identity would impact my psyche and fragile male ego. For the balance of the year, I researched and made decisions on things like Social Security, healthcare, 401K’s, IRA’s, HSA’s, and other EIEIO’s. That effort was completed with facts, figures, and lots of forms. All good there. Well, I did discover that one cannot pay a “Medigap” premium with HSA funds. Oiy. I did pay for a consultant to help me with all of the financial stuff, and actually found “they” could help me with Estate Planning, migrating this blog from one hosting provider to a much cheaper one, moving from Microsoft Office to Google Workspace, stock analysis, recipes, a book outline, TV show binge recommendations, and even a “Brutal Self-Analysis & Healing Roadmap.” Yeah, Gemini Pro (AI) is worth the twenty bucks a month. 

With all of that “work” behind me, and doubt whether I’m capable of writing a book, I’m in a “now what?” period. I won’t be riding my bicycle anytime soon due to the frozen tundra, but I’m working out regularly indoors, and my daughter has me doing yoga on a weekly+ cadence, and I’ve been doing the “manny” thing a bit for my 15-month-old granddaughter. Groceries are still a big weekly highlight, plus extra time affords me space to experiment more with recipes. Last night was a new one, Pasta alla Zozzona, the “Cousin of Carbonara who Likes Red Sauce.” It was delicious, even without the guanciale. I think a pound of sausage in a recipe that called for half that was quite porky enough. Speaking of dining, my wife, son, and I have cut back (see budget, above) on restaurants to about once a week. It’s introduced a bit of novelty back into going out to eat, and we’re enjoying it. I’ve yet to receive a Social Security check, so I’m closely monitoring our budget for a few months. 

So, back to the “Will I cry when I retire” thing. No, I will not. I have decided I have no need, either financially or egotistically, to continue working for the man in any capacity. I’m done with that. Retired. There, I said it, and I’m not crying, though, as an aside, the recent passing of Catherine O’Hara has this whole household verklempt. We love our “Moira.” Actually, now I need to work out, then make dinner, then go to my daughter’s yoga class. I am going to get back here on the “Brutal Self-Analysis & Healing Roadmap.” That was enlightening.

I recently severed the remaining social media contact I had with friends and family who still support Donald Trump. I think the murder, yeah, just my opinion, of Renee Good in Minneapolis was my breaking point. There are arguments on both sides regarding the incident, but what local or state law enforcement officer would have shot a woman in the face, then two to three more times, before uttering, “fucking bitch” in a similar situation? Under the direction of Stephen Miller and Kristi Noem, ICE is terrorizing US communities for political coercion and control under the guise of “immigration enforcement.” It’s curious that they haven’t deployed ICE to red states like Texas, even though the Lone Star State has a much higher population of undocumented immigrants than the blue states where ICE has swarmed.

Back in 2020, I wrote “My Trump-supporting friends and family,” to understand how they could support a career con-man. In the years since, I culled those connections down to a few, and now they’re all gone. At least those I know of. It’s sure to be awkward if and when I see any of them in person, but I have lost all remaining respect for people who still support this idiotic, racist narcissist.

Still, I’m curious how they can still support the man. Greed, racism, and ignorance all come to mind, but based on my own in-person interaction with them, I still consider many of these people “good people.” Some of them were raised on or developed conservative values like limited government, individual liberty, free markets, and social tradition, or “moral order,” usually rooted in Judeo-Christian ethics. Given those values, how can they possibly believe Donald Trump stands for any of them now?

Yesterday, I listened to a podcast episode of the Ezra Klein Show with Yuval Levin, Director of social, cultural, and constitutional studies at the American Enterprise Institute, a prominent conservative/neoconservative think tank founded in 1938. He’s also the author of several books on policy and political theory, including “American Covenant: How the Constitution Unified Our Nation – and Could Again.”

Toward the end of the interview, Klein asked Levin about the difference between traditional conservatives and those of today. i.e. MAGA. Levin’s response nailed it:

“Now, I would say more than conservative, one way to think about the difference is about whether your politics begins from what you care about most, what you love, or whether it begins from what you fear and what you hate. To me, as a young person, conservatism was appealing and as remained appealing because it’s fundamentally rooted and begins from what we love in the world.”

…

“And so it seems to me that it’s incumbent upon older people on the right like myself to make the case to younger people on the right. That ultimately we win by advancing what we love in the world and by persuading the country, by persuading other Americans that they should love it too. And that understanding ourselves as being at war with our own society is not a recipe for an effective politics or a good life.”

On this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and given the vitriol on both sides politically in the US, I think it’s a constructive question to ask ourselves, “whether your politics begins from what you care about most, what you love, or whether it begins from what you fear and what you hate.” Perhaps more importantly, can we step back from that hate?

An Google AI Overview states:

“Fascism is a far-right, authoritarian political ideology characterized by extreme nationalism, a strong centralized government, a dictatorial leader, forcible suppression of opposition, and the subordination of individual rights to the perceived needs of the nation or state, often promoting militarism and a cult of national rebirth. It stands in stark opposition to democracy, liberalism, and communism, controlling society and the economy through total state power, as seen in regimes of Mussolini in Italy and Hitler in Germany.”

One of my son’s “Secret (Bonus-Mom) Santa” gifts was a wonderful theatrical performance of “The Sound of Music” at the Opera House in Boston on January 8^th. Cayleigh Capaldi was wonderful as Maria, and Christiane Noll blew the roof off the Opera House with “Climb Every Mountain” as Mother Abbess.

Our day in Boston began around 3:30 with a 10,000+ step self-guided walking tour through Boston Common, past the outdoor skating rink, and into the Public Gardens, then down Newbury Street, and back up Boylston Street to the French Quarter on Washington, a cozy New Orleans-style eatery next to the Opera House.

The show was a brief respite from the news of the world, the most recent horror being the killing of US citizen, Renee Good, by an ICE Agent in Minneapolis. As the play moved to the Salzburg Festival, the von Trapp family performed, while using the event as cover to escape the Nazis. Five large red, white, and black Nazi flags were an ominous backdrop to the depicted festival. The images seared into my retinas, swirling in my mind with images of the parallel behaviors currently unfolding on our American streets.

Back on Boston Common, Americans peacefully demonstrated “to demand Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents leave the city and halt operations nationwide.”

In a social media post attributed to Karly Kingsley, she opined:

“The Obama administration deported over 3.16 million people. Biden’s passed 4.44 million. Not once did either need troops in the streets to do it. That’s all you need to know about what’s happening.”

This morning, a good friend and I exchanged text messages.

He: How’s it going?

Me: Good. Sort of in a year-end reflective thing. You?

Friday would have been my last day of work.

What now?

He: I received a care package from work, hundreds of dollars worth of stuff from coloring books to a bath robe, candy, gift cards. I’m reflecting on that.

Me: That’s interesting. It’s clear you make an impact on those you work with. There’s so much value in bringing humor and true human empathy to a job, in leadership or not. Helping to make the grind tolerable and even enjoyable is invaluable. Maybe I’ll reflect and write a bit about that.

So, about that.

I’m seeing these year-end reflection posts on LinkedIn. Most attempt to be uplifting when, for many, working life is grinding people down. 2025 produced a litany of desperate posts on this social media site for professionals. While it’s far worse for those worried about paying the mortgage or car payment, feeding their children, or even keeping a roof over their heads, many still working do so with the specter of the corporate grim reaper hovering, sickle at the ready. Although LinkedIn didn’t include it in my 2025 Year in Review, the highlight was being laid off. Yeah, it was a parting gift to someone contemplating retirement at year-end. While the gift was welcomed, the words, “Your position has been eliminated,” stunned me. I thought about the team I was responsible for and a larger team I worked with daily. I managed to fire off two “Goodbye” messages via Microsoft Teams before my company-issued laptop did the HAL9000, “My mind is going. I can feel it.” routine before shutting down. We didn’t get the chance for goodbyes.

There is no complete reflecting on a 42-year work life unless it’s in book form, so this will be the abridged version. I wouldn’t call my labor a career. I didn’t plan it, and I was lucky. I had some excellent managers, worked with many smart, talented people, and served two good companies. The jury is still out on the third. The people who stand out over the years connected on a human level. They cared about people, not simply the means of production. Of course, production matters, so get shit done.

The one reflection I do have is a hope that during my 10,000+ days of work, I helped make the grind tolerable and even enjoyable for those I shared it with.

Earlier this month, at an 8:15 AM Monday one-on-one video call with my new boss, he said, “Hold on. Someone else is joining us.” My heart sank a little, and at the same time, a lightness filled me. A young woman from “People Services” joined, and after some other blah blah blah I wasn’t processing, I heard, “Your position has been eliminated.” After some other scripted details were recited, the call ended after about five minutes. I scrambled to send a Microsoft Teams message to my team and a larger team I worked with daily. It read:

Goodbye

I was just laid off.

A minute later, I stared at this:

Even though I had hoped for this outcome, hearing the words still stung. If they could cut me loose, what did that say about my performance? I thought about my team and what would happen to them. I wondered if they or others were impacted. I later learned that while my team was safe, others were not. One of the things I’m thankful for is that I don’t have to work. I was planning to retire at year’s end. Others don’t share my good fortune, and the tech job market is brutal right now. Tech layoff estimates in 2025 range from 100,000 to 180,000. It looks like the trend will continue. Just this week, “MIT released a study that found that artificial intelligence (AI) can already replace 11.7% of the U.S. labor market, or as much as $1.2 trillion in wages across finance, health care, and professional services.”

For the last year and a half, I’ve worked with AI. I don’t believe all the hype. AI is incredible technology, but it does “hallucinate” and is highly dependent on the quality of the data it uses. I believe most companies are lacking in that area. It’s the decades-old “garbage in, garbage out” rule of computing.

A couple of weeks in, and I’m not sure this “retirement” thing is for me. Not yet, anyway. I’ll think about what I want to do over the holidays and go from there. I’m thankful I have the option to take that time. Some of my former peers and many others younger than me are probably scrambling for the few available jobs, terrified for their future and how they’ll take care of their families and pay the bills.

Be thankful if that’s not you.

Former political analyst and advisor to four US Presidents, David Gergen died this week at 83. A CNN spokesperson said he was “always happy to share his wisdom and his spotlight with others.”

“A political scholar who served four presidents of both parties, an adoring father and dedicated husband, a senior statesman in every sense of the word, and a tireless educator. But above all else, David was a relentlessly kind and warm person.”

I never met the man, so I suppose he was “a relentlessly kind and warm person.”

Years ago, I was waiting for a flight when I witnessed a scene like the Google Gemini image pictured here. Author Tom Peters, dressed like he just jumped off a tractor after plowing the back 40, approached Mr. Gergen. Mr. Peters is a widely acclaimed author, having sold  over 10 million copies of his books. One that he co-authored in 1982, “In Search of Excellence,” is one of the best-selling business books of all time, selling over 3 million copies in its first four years.

Anyway, as Mr. Peters approached and addressed the seated Mr. Gergen, Gergen barely looked up from his newspaper. After a few awkward seconds Mr. Peters walked away. I wonder if he recalled the encounter upon hearing of Mr. Gergen’s passing. I think a lesson here is that dressing like a farmer in a baseball cap in an airport is effective for maintaing anonymity. There’s another possible explanation involving Mr. Gergen’s character, but why go there? RIP