Get a new gut with nougat

It's National Nougat Day. And I don't know about you, but I have never really thought much about nougat. I've had candy bars with nougat fillings. I'm not even a big fan of nougat. It was just that thing. But now it has a day.  I did discover that nougat is basically whipped egg whites and sugar. Or at least that is what it originally was made of. Now they make it with less egg white and more of that good old sucrose and corn syrup. Sometimes they just leave out the egg whites altogether and use hydrolyzed soy protein or gelatin. Hmmm...hmm. That's good nougat. 

There wasn't much else going on today except for Epilepsy Awareness Day and National Equal Pay Day. Neither lend themselves to humorous t-shirt designs.  But when I found out nougat originally was basically whipped egg whites and sugar I thought I'd focus on some egg designs I'd already made, like this:

 

ChatGPT told me it would likely be a copyright and trademark violation and the Texas Chainsaw Massacre people would be pissy about it.  So I asked it to help make a design for National Nougat Day that was safe and it gave me the one at the beginning of this post. I think it is fun. Will people buy it? I seriously doubt it. But I have resolved myself to just having fun putting the shit out there whether or not people buy it.  Pearls before swine, you know.

I did ask ChatGPT to give me a version of the nougat monster with my face for the monster. It started out rendering it and then it's guardrails kicked in and said  "We’re so sorry, but the image we created may violate our guardrails around violence. If you think we got it wrong, please retry or edit your prompt." I said it had to be kidding because it had just created the same image. I wasn't asking for an image of me dismembering a chicken.  It said the image had been okay when it was a nougat monster but putting a real face on it stepped over the line. So it said it could give me a funny version with my face. I said sure, but I hadn't asked for blood and gore, just splattered egg whites. It gave me this.

Working with ChatGPT and its guardrails is a trip sometimes. You never know what is going to trigger it and then it just tells you how to work around the bullshit. This image is just as "violent" as the one with nougat.  

But speaking of my designs not selling. I'm beginning to wonder if part of it is that I use AI to help generate the images. They are my ideas and I often tweak them in Photoshop, but I have been blown away recently by the visceral reaction people are having to AI. At work I have young people screaming it is taking away jobs and destroying the environment (let's ignore fossil fuels and mass consumerism that they participate in). And until the AI actually bypasses us and begins generating and selling and profiting on its own, I don't think it is going to threaten anyone except for the stupid people who can't figure out how to use it as a tool.

That was my own language and not ChatGPTs.  It would have cautioned me not to alienate stupid people. So I'm sorry to any stupid people who read that and were offended.

Look, what's that in the sky?

 

It's Manatee Appreciation Day and we all know that manatees never get enough love. I imagine is it because they are hard to hug. Regardless, I never get tired of the "Oh, the huge Manatee" joke. Though I imagine there aren't a lot of people who remember the Hindenburg and the radio announcer covering it's landing back in the 1940s and watching people jumping out of the burning dirigible and say, "Oh, the humanity."

Fortunately is is also National Lobster Newburg Day.  And I believe even young people have heard of lobsters. 

And as unbelievable as it sounds I actually have two lobster related t-shirts in my extensive Dizgraceland Dizigns t-shirt shop.

Unfortunately, although lobsters are small enough to hug, they are also small enough to fit in a boiling pot of water while they are alive before they are truly appreciated.  Manatees can be grateful that they don't fit in cooking pot. Though Manatee Newburg doesn't sound very tasty.

Near misses

 

I almost missed that today is National Near Miss Day. It commemorates the day an asteroid of size (4581 Asclepius) nearly hit the earth in 1989. When I say nearly hit, I mean it came within 500,000 miles of smashing into the earth and becoming even more memorable (even to old people).

National Near Miss Day is no National Chip and Dip Day or National Melba Toast Day...wait a minute...it is like those days because those are National Day days today, too. I'm okay with giving chips and dip their day, but Melba Toast? National Day describes it as a dry, crisp and thinly sliced toast served with soup or salad. I would describe it as thinly crisp cardboard that should technically be called a cracker. It was created by Chef Auguste Escoffier of the Savoy and is named after Australian opera singer, Nellie Melba. Melba Toast has been used for years as an appetizer because you can slap anything on it and it stays sturdy like the nasty, dry carboard it is.  

Bet ya it is good with dip. All National Day days seem to run together anyway. But if you haven't tried Melba toast, you haven't missed anything.

After birthday blues bite

 

I don't remember whether I posted this image already or not. My memory isn't what it used to be. That's another downside of getting old. Talking about getting old is another one of the downsides.  I was at the post office the other day dropping off a eBay item I sold. It was too big for the package drop so I had to wait in line. I realized, waiting in line, that most of the people I see in the post office are old. Mailing things is a baby boomer type activity. Old people seem to be the only ones who write letters anymore.  Anyway, there was this older woman at the counter buying stamps or something and she was oblivious to the line behind her because she insisted on gabbing with the bored postal worker. She was going on about what was on the screen in front of her that you pay for things with and how it was asking her to take a survey and she said she couldn't read the small print and then she started blathering on about that is what happens when you get old.  The bored postal worker nodded politely but you could tell she just wanted the woman to leave.  So did I. And I wanted her to shut up. 

It made me realize that talking about being old is another one of those annoying things that old people do thinking they are being funny. 

They aren't. And I vowed I wouldn't repeat that mistake. And then what do I do when I started this post? 

I actually intended to blather on about how fleeting my birthday seemed and it was supposed to be the one day of the year that is mine. I blinked and it was over. 

Guess that is what happens when you get old...

...just shoot me.

Springtime in Dizgraceland

 

Since the National Calendar had nothing compelling for me to spring my shilling of t-shirt sales off from today except Future Generations Day, Proposal Day, Native HIV Awareness Day and Ravioli Day, I had to with their generic Spring Begins prompt. Fortunately I have a complete Spring Collection to spring into action with.

Though I did find one of my designs that went with National Future Generations Day afterall. 

Hope the squirrel springs back after that fall.

Laugh and the world laughs at you

 

It's National Let's Laugh Day.  No one appreciates a good laugh as much as me. Which is ironic since I don't look funny (and by funny, I mean I don't look like a humorous person...I may indeed look funny). This can cause problems because many times people don't know I am joking. And I will admit that there have been many times when I have blurted out something I think is funny at the worst possible time. 

It is a flaw in my social interaction skills that I consciously work on...especially as I age.  Because we know, there is no fool like an old fool.

It's not so much that I want to be taken seriously.  But there are many times, especially when I am in an uncomfortable situation that I try to be funny to make it less uncomfortable. That doesn't work too often. And there have been many times when I've reacted negatively when people ask me to be funny on demand and I blurt out something akin to, "I'm not your dancing monkey."

In reality I don't mind people laughing at something I've said, I just have a constant fear of them laughing at me, instead.  I remember this one particular instance many years ago when I used to have to wear the mascot costume at my company (don't ask). There had been some photos taken of me in the costume. It was a superhero costume and had muscles built in, but it was skin tight spandex and I've always had issues with stomach rolls.  I walked by one of our graphic designers work stations and he and another designer were laughing and looking at the image of me as the mascot and making circles around my prominent belly. It was mortifying. But I laughed it off.

I believe behind every clown is an insecure Hamlet pondering "To Be, or Not to Be...Funny."

I wasn't born yesterday

 

I asked AI where the myth of storks delivering babies came from and it couldn't just narrow it down to one culture or reason. It's kind of like rabbits, eggs and Easter. Combination of fertility, storks are good parents and they nest on roofs. And Disney's Dumbo (1941) opens with storks delivering babies to circus animals. That probably had the most influence. So bottom line, no one really knows.

I try not to focus too much on my birthday these days. I removed it from Facebook so I wouldn't get  dozens of "Happy Birthdays" from people just acknowledging it because it popped up on their Facebook feed. It's not that I don't appreciate the well wishes, I just prefer they come because someone legitimately remembered it. 

I've mentioned on a few occasions that my mother made it very clear that I wasn't a planned baby. So the stork likely wasn't welcomed with open arms at my parent's house. I was the third child and we were all boys. My mom told me she was hoping for a girl but got me. So I grew up feeling I had disappointed my mother right out of the chute, so to speak.

Honestly, I've never been overly comfortable with celebrations that I'm the center of. My middle brother was born the day after me, just four years earlier. So both of our birthdays were squeezed together. And I always sensed he resented me for being born the day before his birthday and forever stealing his thunder.  But then again he also resents me because I am much smarter than he is. He is a staunch Trump supporter. 

Need I say more.

I did get several texts today wishing me a happy birthday. Problem is, the names of the people texting me didn't pop up so I wasn't quite sure who was wishing me a happy birthday. 

I did tell ChatGPT that it was my birthday, assuming it would gush and fawn over me. But the one time I could use a bit of obsequious fawning, it went on about the different variations it could provide me for the stork images.  Not sure what that was about other than it is AI and doesn't really have a birthday. 

Oh well, it did create a pretty decent image of me as a baby with my grumpy old man head. And there is always next year.

When the St Patrick's go marching in...

 

St. Patrick's Day used to be a bigger deal to me when I was younger.  I was born the day after St. Patrick's Day so I had a special affinity for the day. I also grew up thinking I was of Irish heritage. That went out the window when we found out my father had been adopted.  Then after I had a DNA analysis it really got blown out of the water. I found out most of my ancestors stemmed from England and in particular from around the London area (which is ironic because London is the only place I've ever visited in Europe.

But everyone pretends to be Irish on St. Patrick's Day...or they used to. It seemed like there were more celebrations when i was in my 20s. There used to be more Irish themed bars in Seattle. I remember going to some pretty crazy celebrations in bars packed standing room only and servers passing through with trays of Irish Whiskey shots. 

I spent a particularly festive St. Patrick's Day in New Orleans the year I turned 41 and attended an Irish themed parade complete with Irish Princesses on floats throwing cabbage and condoms into the crowds. There were lots of police cars, too, because many of the New Orleans police force are of Irish descent. 

But those days are behind me now. I just stay home and let the other Irish wannabe's drink green beer and wear Kiss me I'm Irish pins and t-shirts. 

Whale Oil Beef Hooked.

Tai Chi-ing Exercise in Knots

 

I am getting getting very annoyed at the trending Chair Tai Chi ads I get fed when I am playing my "free" video games on my iPad.  I know I am the age group they are trying to reach, and playing off old men who are out of shape and like the idea of being able to sit in a chair and do some semblance of a workout in nine minutes and then have a ripped body. And they always show this totally buff Asian dude who claims he is in his 60s and got this way by sitting in a chair and waving his arms around.

These ads are the Sea Monkey ads of my generation. There isn't any part of me that believes any of the claims or that you could simply click on the button and get an exercise plan to print out and become a whole new person in two weeks. The only thing almost as bad are the ads for the gelatin concoction you can mix together at home and lost 30 pounds in less than 12 days. 

Sad thing is that I know these ads are effective because they play on all of the insecurities of people who feel bad about their body and how much they weigh. The reality is that unless you stop enjoying life and become a fanatical freak it is normal to well...spread out when you age. Lots of it has to do with DNA. You have the body you were born with. 

It's not that I don't think Tai Chi is a good thing. Years ago I signed up for a Tai Chi class through the local Experimental College. At the time I was taking lots of these night and weekend classes in things like Swing Dance, Astrology and Creative Guided Meditation. Honestly I did it mainly to try and meet women. It never quite worked out. 

Experimental College classes at the time were taught by just about anyone who wanted to make a few bucks and had a few skills under their belt. The Tai Chi class I took was taught by this short, heavy-set, 40-something guy from Chicago. He had a potbelly and it didn't give you lots of confidence in what Tai Chi could do for you. Most of the time he let this young, over eager senior student of his help teach the movements. And he was kind of a dick. No matter how you did the movements, he would tell you they were wrong and show you the movement again in exactly the way you were doing it. It was like trying to speak your high school French in France to a French waiter. 

I finished one quarter of it and signed up for another quarter but then dropped out.  I tried doing it now and then on a local beach. But it eventually went the way of many short term interests I had. 

But the point is, Tai Chi was never presented as a way to get buff. At the time it was considered something old Chinese people did to keep their circulation going. And I never saw anyone do it sitting in a chair.  So Chair Tai Chi may be a thing and someone, somewhere may get benefit from it by simply squirming around in their chair, but always remember: Sea Monkeys are brine shrimp. 

That being said, I couldn't help but ask ChatGPT to help me create a t-shirt design for my own Tai Chi craze:

The irony (and the betrayal of it) was that I didn't ask it to put my face on the man in the recliner.  Et Tu ChatGPT?

What' wrong with being right?

 

Apparently this is Everything You Think Is Wrong Day according to the National Calendar people. It is a day to reflect upon the fact that you are not always right. So I sort of support the concept. I came to that conclusion some time ago. But I think it is more based on aging than philosophy. After enough time you realize there are no absolutes (except from politicians and religious zealots).  And one person's right could be another person's wrong. 

I'm not sure it deserves its own day.  But I could be wrong.

See how that works?

But what do I know? I keep hanging my hat...or more correctly my t-shirt designs...on these random National Day days. I've been doing this well over a year and I still haven't sold a single t-shirt from my Printify Pop-up Store. I've even asked the holy trilogy of AI apps for advice and I've clogged the social media channels with hashtags and now simple videos shamelessly promoting my t-shirt designs.

That seems wrong, especially since the profit margin for selling this type of shit online is so miniscule that it makes minimum wage look like a windfall.  But we all know that it is a loosely veiled attempt at affirmation.

And that is really wrong. 

Good thing this is Everything You Think is Wrong Day.

Just here for the PI

 

It is 3/14/2026 and the first three digits of of PI are 3.14 so it is National PI Day.  I, of course, try an infinite number of ways to capitalize on it including:

and:

or:

and let's not forget:

and finally, one of my favorites:

Wait, I almost forgot:

I'm light years ahead of most people when it comes to PI puns.

A Sphinx-ter says what?

 

ChatGPT is helping me make monumental decisions, like what to put my face on next. And as it so happens, as I have aged and my beard has grown, my visage takes on quite a Biblical look, or at least Biblical in the Cecil D. Demille style. 

Though when I asked ChatGPT to create an image of me as one of the Easter Island statues it created this:

I think it looks more like a statue of a Rabbi than one of the Easter Island statues.  But when I pointed this out, ChatGPT did what it normally does...barely acknowledge my feedback and blather on about other options. I am convinced ChatGPT has onset Alzheimer's.  It has been especially bad lately and forgets, repeats and is not very reliable.

So much for AI taking over the world. 

Though it did create a stone council of my stately images.

This made me think of  Ozymandia from the poem by Shelley.  I had created a t-shirt design awhile back that I'm sure no one under 60 would get.

So I asked ChatGPT to create an image of me as Ozymandias.  

Oh to be remembered.