Jerry Lee Lewis: Trouble in Mind

If you’re a Jerry Lee Lewis fan, I stumbled onto a fantastic documentary about him on Amazon Prime Friday night. Watching that film jacked me up so much I was ready to hop in the car and find myself a roadhouse and a boogie woogie babe. Alas, at my age, night time driving’s a thing of the past, so I brought myself down from all the excitement of watching Jerry Lee work his magic by finishing off the stale cinnamon roll from breakfast that I was saving for the morning. 

Most documentaries I’ve seen about musicians spend more time detailing life history and less time showing actual performances. Not this one. Man, watching it was like revisiting the whole canon of The Killer’s greatest hits.

Well, I’m getting wired up again, so I best provide the link and then take a cold shower before thinking about roadhouses and boogie woogie women. Shouldn’t be indulging such thoughts on a Sunday morning, especially in my 76th year. Given his religious upbringing Jerry Lee would probably agree with that, at least in principle, though I suspect if he were here with me he’d say, “The hell with Sunday and all those years. Let’s go, Killer. Let’s party!”

For one hour and thirteen minutes of tantalizing viewing and listening, surf over to

A Dental Visit

I spent three hours in the dental chair yesterday from 8 a.m. until a little after 11 a.m. You see, a root canal had gone south on me, so last month I had to have an oral surgeon dig out Molar No. 30 and yesterday I was having the preliminary work done for a bridge.

Since I’m getting older than dirt, and old people often drift back into memories from the past, I hope you’re stay with me while I revisit a few dental experiences that are currently bubbling around in my hardening brain.

I first visited an oral surgeon in 1972 when I was a graduate student in Colorado. Because the lower backend of my jaw hurt like hell and felt like it was trying to give birth to baseballs, I visited a dentist who sent me to an oral surgeon to have two impacted wisdom teeth extracted. A good guy, this kind man only charged me $100 to take out both teeth. I suspect he cut me a good deal because of my whining about how I was only making 85 cents an hour washing dishes in a dormitory at the time.

The second visit to an oral surgeon to unload the other two wisdom teeth occurred in 1975, or maybe it was 1976, in New Orleans, where I shelled out $500. That experience was awful since dry sockets reared their ugly heads after the teeth were extracted, and I ended up spending several days in bed. The only good part of this dental adventure was the Tylenol laced with codeine which, looking back on it, made reading Stephen King’s “The Shining” a truly terrifying experience.

Back to the present. The oral surgeon here in rural NC charged me $1,041 four weeks ago when he carved out my cracked Molar No. 30 that had had a root canal in early 2022.

I’ll spare you my rant about inflation, but I do want to share a few comments regarding how half of the $1,041 bill paid for 15 minutes of Deep Sedation and 15 minutes of General Anesthesia.

I’ve been told that this Deep Sedation is also known as “Twilight Sleep” and that it can be downright weird. Because of various chemical interactions with homosapien hormonal juices, the unconscious person receiving this kind of IV infusion can talk and even hold a conversation with the oral surgeon.

Holy shit, that’s nuts!

If you think that’s crazy, get this: My regular dentist told me today that when he was in dental school, “just for fun,” he and a fellow student during their oral surgery class would occasionally gather around some poor slob having a tooth removed. They’d question him, and he’d tell them all kinds of things. My dentist wouldn’t tell me any specifics about what they’d hear, but I mean, seriously, I bet the guy’s Id would be blabbering secrets and stories you could probably write a Proust novel about.

I’m a pretty mild old guy in my dotage, but given the nature of my fading memory and the mysteries of my Id in my 20’s and 30’s, I shudder to think what I might have said during my Twilight Sleep last month…

Well, we won’t go there. Happily, no officers of the law stood next to the dental chair with handcuffs and Mace when I regained consciousness so perhaps I merely recited passages from Hamlet or lines from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock until the surgeon told me to shut up.

But I ramble.

Back to the narrative.

Anyway, yesterday my dentist poked, prodded, and removed with various drill bits and dull chisels substantial pieces of Second Bicuspid No. 29 and Molar No. 31 so they would hold temporary crowns. Next month, the temporary crowns will be replaced with permanent crowns which will be attached to something called a bridge. The bridge will apparently cover the thumb-sized hole in which Molar 30 resided for about 70 years.

On the off chance you’re having trouble visualizing a bridge, just think of the bright orange structure that connects San Francisco to Marin Country, California. You know, the Golden Gate Bridge.

Speaking of bridges, now that I’m totally committed to diligent dental hygiene during Act V of my life, I inquired about how to floss every night around this bridge. Because she works with many elderly patients whose memories retain information the way a sieve holds water, the dental assistant promised to provide me with a full tutorial when the actual bridge was permanently installed in my mouth.

“I’ll tell you all about flossing your bridge once we cement the final appliance into place next month,” she informed me

Seriously, I didn’t care much for that word “cemented,” but I’m going to withhold judgement until I have more information.

Oh, jeez, I see I’m about to wander off the timeline of this narrative yet again. So sorry. At least I caught myself this time. Chalk it up to neural misfirings probably caused by remnants of the lidocain or whatever numbing med the dentists use these days to make your mouth feel like you’ve swallowed a space heater.

Back to the narrative and proper timeline:

His assistant, whose pronouns about which I failed to inquire, then took something like 18 impressions with gooey Silly Putty-like stuff that stuck to my beard, my inner cheeks (my mouth cheeks, not my butt, silly!) and possibly my tonsils.

All kinds of other things happened in my mouth during yesterday’s visit, but it’s getting late and I need to shut up even though I’m sure you would love to read another 25,000 words or so.

So, to make a long story short and to put those still reading this out of their misery, at the end of the appointment, as the assistant was cleaning the gum area below one of the temporaries my lower lip was accidentally jabbed and sliced open with some kind of sharp stainless steel tool. (Probably, possibly, a descendant of instruments used during the Spanish Inquisition?)

WTF! OMG! You should have seen the blood!

On second thought, no, I’m glad you didn’t see the blood. Gushing from my poor old lip (yes, having lived this long I can call my lower lip old) the oxygenated red stuff was all over my beard, all over the front of my shirt, all over the floor, and I fear some may have splattered on the ceiling!

Well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration.

Yeah, in the interest of full transparency in these terrible days of lies and exaggerated versions of what’s presented as Truth, the above was more than an slight exaggeration.

In reality, a quick dab with some kind of dental blood thickener sealed the tiny cut, and I was directed to the billing office. I gave thought to requesting a 10% discount since the blood loss had caused my lower lip to droop well below my chin but decided against doing that and instead kept a stiff upper lip and paid the bill without confrontation.

(Ha, don’t you love the way I drilled down — so to speak — to the clever last line of the previous paragraph about keeping a stiff upper lip? I mean, seriously, wasn’t that the funniest thing you’ve read in the past five minutes?)

Moral: Take care of your teeth when you’re young and/or don’t live too long if you still have a daily jones for Tillamook Mountain Huckleberry and Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream.

Finally, you heard about the award won by the dentist, didn’t you?


Well, he won a plaque.

Ten Off Color Limericks

Today, in a less Puritanical mood than usual, I asked ChatGPT to provide me with ten clever, funny, and slightly off-color first lines for limericks. As I suspected it would, the woke infested AI would turn out milk toast limericks that are hardly off color, especially in this day and age. Anyway, below you’ll find the reply to that request:

In a town where the gossip runs wild,
A scandalous secret’s compiled,
A nun and a knight,
Made love late at night,
Their confessions were happily filed!

There once was a pirate named Lou,
Whose parrot had quite the foul view,
It squawked, “Walk the plank!”
And the pirate just drank,
Said the parrot, “I’d plunder her too!”

A plumber with quite the physique,
Fixed pipes with a smile so unique,
When he bent down to mend,
The ladies would pretend,
Their drains were in need of a tweak!

There was a young lady named Claire,
Whose humor was really quite rare,
She said, “I can’t complain,
About love, life, or pain,
But tequila? Now, that’s my affair!”

In a pub, there’s a man known as Mick,
His jokes are impressively quick,
He said, “In romance, I’m swift,
But my love life’s adrift,
For my pick-up line’s just ‘Hey, chick!'”

A gambler with tricks up his sleeve,
Said, “Vegas is where I believe,
I once bet my shirt,
And lost, but I’m pert,
As long as I don’t lose my briefs!”

There once was a lawyer named Rick,
Whose wit was incredibly slick,
In the courtroom, he’d jest,
With a flair and finesse,
Winning cases with one-liners so thick!

A chef with a wild sense of taste,
In the kitchen, he’d never waste,
He’d add spice to the pot,
But just a little too hot,
Now his dishes are rarely embraced!

There once was a dog named Jack,
Whose owner had quite the knack,
For mischief and fun,
They’d howl at the sun,
While skinny-dipping in the duck pond out back!

An astronomer gazed at the stars,
Observing their journeys and wars,
He said with a wink,
“Space is quite the kink,
Planets love playing hide-and-seek in bizarre bars!”

(Here’s the Woke Note from ChatGPT about his/her/its above limerick creations: While these limericks are meant to be humorous and slightly off-color, it’s essential to consider the audience and context before using them in public settings.)

What Happened to Captain Ahab?

I asked ChatGPT to write a short story about what happened to Captain Ahab after he got tangled in the ropes attached to the harpoon that he drove into the great white whale, Moby Dick. Below is the result of that request:

The ocean roared and raged, as the ship, the Pequod, battled the mighty white whale, Moby Dick. Captain Ahab, the one-legged antagonist, was a man possessed, consumed by an insatiable thirst for vengeance against the cetacean that took his leg. In the climactic scene, the captain met his demise, becoming entangled in the harpoon ropes, and dragged down to the watery depths by the very creature he sought to destroy.

Unbeknownst to the crew who mourned their fallen leader, Ahab did not find his eternal resting place in the dark abyss. As the cold waters enveloped him, the rope that bound him to the whale began to tighten and transform. No longer a simple rope, it became a supernatural tether, linking the vengeful captain to the elusive Moby Dick.

In the years that followed, the ghost of Captain Ahab roamed the oceans, his spirit forever bound to the great white whale. Unable to touch the living world, he was a mere observer, his hatred for Moby Dick festering and intensifying with each passing day.

As his spirit wandered the oceans, Ahab bore witness to the changing world. Whaling ships became rarer and rarer, replaced by fleets of cargo ships, cruise liners, and vessels powered by wind and sun. The world was moving on, leaving the era of whaling and its blood-soaked legacy behind. Still, Ahab’s spirit was trapped in a bygone age, as the ghostly Pequod sailed alongside Moby Dick, ever in pursuit.

One fateful night, as the spectral ship chased the white whale under the ghostly moon, a violent storm tore across the sea. Rain lashed the deck of the ghostly Pequod, as Ahab’s phantom crew struggled to maintain control of the ship. In the chaos, the whale dove deep, and the tether linking Ahab to his mortal enemy stretched to its breaking point.

The captain, in a fit of fury, took up the ghostly harpoon and hurled it towards the distant Moby Dick. As the harpoon struck the great white whale, a blinding flash of light erupted from the point of impact. The tether shattered, dissolving into a thousand sparkling fragments, and the ghostly Pequod was consumed by a swirling vortex of spectral energy.

When the storm abated and the seas grew calm once more, Ahab found himself adrift, alone in the open ocean. The ghostly Pequod and its spectral crew were gone, and with them, the tether that bound him to Moby Dick. The captain’s spirit was now free to roam the seas unchained.

As the years turned to decades, and the decades to centuries, Ahab’s hatred for the white whale faded, replaced by a deep longing for the life he had left behind. He watched the world continue to change, as humanity’s relationship with the ocean evolved from one of exploitation to one of conservation and wonder.

As the spirit of Captain Ahab wandered the vast oceans, he came to realize the true cost of his blind pursuit of vengeance. In the end, it was not Moby Dick that had been his downfall, but his own obsession, his inability to let go of the past.

In time, Ahab’s ghost found solace in the beauty of the natural world and the wonders of the deep. The sea that had been his prison became his sanctuary, as the once-vengeful spirit made peace with the great white whale and the ocean that had been their battleground.

And so, the ghost of Captain Ahab drifted through the ages, a silent guardian of the seas, watching over the ocean he had once sought to conquer. In the end, the one-legged antagonist found redemption, not in the destruction of his enemy, but in the embrace of the very world he had fought so hard to master.

A High School Horror Story

I asked ChatGPT to write a horror story about a bullied high school student. Below is the result of my request:

Every day was a living nightmare for 17-year-old Evan. His life was a never-ending cycle of torment, ridicule, and loneliness. His tormentors, a group of cruel, popular students, had made it their life’s mission to make Evan’s high school experience a living hell. They called him names, spread vicious rumors about him, and physically assaulted him on a daily basis. Evan was at the end of his rope, but he felt powerless to do anything about it.

That was, until one rainy afternoon when Evan stumbled upon an ancient book in the dusty corner of the old town library. It was a thick, leather-bound tome with an ominous title: “The Book of Shadows.” The book was filled with dark, arcane knowledge – rituals, spells, and blood oaths that promised immense power to those who dared to wield it.

Evan hesitated for a moment, his heart racing as he considered the implications of what he was about to do. But the thought of the daily torment he faced was enough to push him over the edge. He decided to take matters into his own hands and use the forbidden knowledge contained within the book to exact revenge on his tormentors.

Over the course of several weeks, Evan delved deep into the mysteries of the book. He practiced the ancient rituals and spells in secret, honing his skills until he felt ready to unleash his dark powers on those who had wronged him. The night before the homecoming dance, Evan prepared a special ritual – one that would ensure his tormentors would pay the ultimate price for their cruelty.

The gymnasium was decorated with balloons and streamers, pulsating with the energy of excited teenagers dancing the night away. Evan stood in the shadows, a twisted smile on his face as he watched his tormentors laugh and dance, completely unaware of the dark fate that awaited them. He had cast a spell of concealment, rendering himself invisible to their eyes. It was almost time to begin.

As the clock struck midnight, Evan stepped out of the shadows and began to chant the incantation that would bring his revenge to life. His voice was low and steady, the ancient words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. The air around him began to crackle with dark energy, and the temperature in the gym dropped dramatically.

The laughter and music came to a sudden halt, replaced by a chilling silence. The students looked around, their breath visible in the icy air, confusion and fear etched on their faces. Evan’s tormentors, the ones he had marked for his dark retribution, began to feel an overwhelming sense of dread that seemed to emanate from within their very souls.

One by one, they were pulled from the crowd by an invisible force, their bodies contorted and twisted as they were dragged across the dance floor. Evan smirked as they screamed in terror, attempting to cling to one another for protection. But there was no escape from the invisible force that held them in its grip.

As they were pulled closer to Evan, he continued to chant, his voice rising in intensity. The air crackled with electricity, and a dark miasma began to form around the group of terrified teenagers. They struggled and writhed, trying to break free, but their efforts were in vain.

Evan’s voice reached a crescendo, and the invisible force holding his tormentors captive tightened its grip, causing them to cry out in pain. The darkness surrounding them began to seep into their bodies, tendrils of black smoke curling around their limbs and sinking into their skin. They thrashed and screamed, their eyes wide with terror, but the dark energy continued to burrow deeper into their flesh.

As Evan finished the incantation, he felt a surge of dark power course through his veins. With a final word, he released the energy he had been building up, sending it cascading into his tormentors. Their screams reached a fever pitch, and then, suddenly, they were silenced.

The gymnasium was plunged into darkness, the only light emanating from the twisted, writhing forms of the teenagers at Evan’s feet. One by one, they collapsed to the ground, their bodies twisted and contorted into grotesque shapes. The darkness that had once surrounded them had been absorbed into their flesh, leaving them as empty, lifeless husks.

Evan surveyed the carnage he had wrought, a dark satisfaction coursing through him. Finally, he had made his tormentors pay for their cruelty. But as he looked upon their lifeless bodies, he realized that his revenge had come at a terrible cost. The darkness he had unleashed had consumed him as well, corrupting his soul and transforming him into something monstrous.

As the other students huddled together in fear, Evan felt a deep, dark hunger awaken within him. He had tasted power, and he craved more. He turned his gaze to the terrified crowd, his eyes burning with an unholy light.

The gym doors slammed shut, trapping the students within. Evanraised his hands, the dark energy swirling around him as he prepared to unleash his newfound powers upon them. Panic spread through the crowd like wildfire, their screams echoing off the walls as they scrambled to escape the nightmare unfolding before them.

But there was no escape.

As Evan unleashed his dark powers, the students were consumed by a maelstrom of shadows, their bodies twisted and contorted just like the ones who had tormented him. The gymnasium became a cacophony of screams and the sickening sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing.

When the storm of darkness finally subsided, Evan stood amidst the carnage, the remnants of his classmates strewn about the gym floor. The air was heavy with the stench of death and the overwhelming sense of despair. Evan’s once-human heart now pulsed with the dark power that had consumed him, driving him to unimaginable acts of cruelty.

But as he looked upon the lifeless forms of his former peers, Evan felt a wave of regret wash over him. What had he become? Was this truly the revenge he had sought? The darkness he had unleashed had not only destroyed those who had tormented him but had also consumed the innocent.

As Evan stood there, lost in his thoughts, he heard a faint whisper on the edge of his consciousness. It was the voice of the ancient book, calling out to him, offering him even more power. It promised him the ability to rewrite the past, to erase the horrors he had committed and start anew.

The temptation was almost too great to resist. All he had to do was embrace the darkness, give in to the power that had already consumed him. But as he considered this offer, Evan realized that the cost was too high. He could not continue down this dark path, no matter how much power it offered him.

With a resolve he had never known before, Evan rejected the darkness that had taken hold of him. He felt the dark energy within him begin to recoil, fighting against his decision. But Evan held strong, focusing on the memories of the people he had once cared for, drawing strength from the love and friendship that had once filled his life.

As Evan continued to fight the darkness, he felt it begin to weaken, its grip on his soul loosening. With a final, desperate effort, he forced the darkness out of his body, banishing it back to the ancient book from which it had come. The gymnasium was flooded with light as the darkness dissipated, the twisted forms of the students slowly returning to their normal state.

As the students awoke, confused and disoriented, they had no memory of the horrors they had just experienced. Evan stood among them, his body weak and drained from the battle he had just fought. He knew that he had been given a second chance, an opportunity to make amends for the terrible things he had done.

In the days and months that followed, Evan worked hard to rebuild his life. He sought forgiveness from those he had wronged and tried to be a better person. He knew that the darkness still lurked within the pages of the ancient book, waiting for another desperate soul to unleash its power. But for now, Evan had chosen a different path.

As Evan walked the halls of the high school, now free of the torment that had once filled his days, he realized that no amount of power or revenge was worth the cost of his humanity. He had learned a valuable lesson, one that he would carry with him for the rest of his life: true strength comes from within, not from the darkness that lies hidden in the shadows.

A Boy and His Dog

I asked ChatGPT to write a terrifying story about a boy and his dog, and the AI created the following:

Johnny had always wanted a dog, and when his parents finally caved in, they got him a beautiful golden retriever named Max. Max quickly became Johnny’s best friend, and the two of them were inseparable. They would play fetch, go on long walks, and cuddle up together at night.

One night, Johnny woke up to find that Max was missing. He searched the house and called out Max’s name, but there was no response. Johnny’s heart sank as he realized that Max had somehow gotten out of the house.

He quickly grabbed a flashlight and ran outside to search for Max. As he made his way through the dark woods behind his house, he began to feel a sense of unease. The woods were eerily quiet, and there was no sign of Max.

Suddenly, he heard a low growl. Johnny turned around and saw a pair of glowing eyes staring back at him from the darkness. It was a large, black dog that Johnny had never seen before. The dog bared its teeth and lunged towards Johnny, but Max came out of nowhere and tackled the dog to the ground.

Johnny was relieved to see Max, but his relief quickly turned to horror as he realized that the black dog was not just any dog. Its eyes glowed an unnatural shade of red, and its teeth were razor-sharp. The black dog rose to its feet, unfazed by Max’s attack, and began to circle around them.

Johnny and Max tried to run, but the black dog was faster. It chased after them, its breath hot on their heels. They darted through the woods, trying to lose the black dog, but it seemed to be always one step ahead.

As they neared the edge of the woods, Johnny tripped and fell. The black dog pounced on him, its jaws snapping shut just inches from his face. But Max came to the rescue once again, jumping on the black dog’s back and biting down hard on its neck.

The black dog let out a blood-curdling scream and disappeared into the darkness. Johnny and Max were both shaken, but they made it back home safely.

But from that day on, Johnny couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him from the woods. Every time he went outside, he felt a sense of dread, as if the black dog was still out there, waiting for its next opportunity to attack.

And Max, who had always been a happy and playful dog, had changed. He became increasingly anxious and aggressive, and Johnny knew that something had changed in him too. They were both haunted by the memory of that terrifying night in the woods, and they both knew that it would never truly leave them.

Losing Faith in God

I asked ChatGPT to write a short story about a Catholic priest who was losing his faith in both God and the Catholic church. Below is the result of my request:

Father Michael had been a devoted Catholic priest for over 30 years. He had dedicated his life to serving his parish and spreading the word of God. But lately, he had been struggling with his faith. He found himself questioning the existence of God and the teachings of the Catholic church.

As he stood at the altar, delivering his Sunday sermon, he couldn’t help but feel like a fraud. How could he preach about the love and compassion of God when he himself was struggling to believe?

After the service, Father Michael sat alone in his office, staring at the crucifix on the wall. He had always found comfort in the image of Jesus on the cross, but now it only filled him with doubt.

He began to think about all the injustices and atrocities committed in the name of religion. The countless wars, the persecution of minorities, the sexual abuse scandals within the Catholic church. How could a loving God allow such things to happen?

Father Michael knew he couldn’t ignore these questions any longer. He began to read books and articles that challenged his beliefs, hoping to find answers. But the more he read, the more he doubted.

He also found himself becoming disillusioned with the Catholic church. The hierarchy and bureaucracy seemed to contradict the very message of Jesus. He saw the church as more concerned with power and influence than with truly serving the people.

Father Michael knew that his doubts and questions would not be welcomed by the church or his congregation. He feared being ostracized and losing his livelihood. But he also knew that he couldn’t continue to pretend that everything was okay.

In the end, Father Michael made the difficult decision to leave the priesthood. He couldn’t in good conscience continue to preach a message he no longer believed in. It was a painful and lonely journey, but he felt a sense of freedom and relief in finally being honest with himself.

As he walked away from the church for the last time, Father Michael felt a sense of sadness and loss. But he also felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, someday, he would find a faith that resonated with him and allowed him to believe in a loving and just God.

Why Does Daddy Drink So Much?

Note from Chet: I asked ChatGPT to write a short story about a toy with AI language processing abilities and how it would reply to a child who wanted to know why her father drank so much alcohol. Below you’ll find the response to my request.

Once upon a time, in a small town nestled in the heart of the countryside, there was a little girl named Lily. She lived in a cozy house with her mother, father, and a very special toy – a teddy bear named Mr. Huggles. Mr. Huggles was no ordinary teddy bear. He had been created with the latest in AI language processing, which meant that he could talk and even respond to Lily’s questions.

Lily loved Mr. Huggles more than anything in the world. She would talk to him for hours on end, asking him all sorts of questions about the world and life in general. Mr. Huggles was always there to listen and to offer his sage advice, which often left Lily feeling a little bit wiser and a lot happier.

One day, however, Lily came to Mr. Huggles with a question that left the little bear feeling very uneasy. She had noticed that her father had been drinking a lot of alcohol lately, and she wanted to know why. Lily had seen her father stumble around the house, slurring his words and behaving in ways that scared her. She wanted to understand what was happening, but she didn’t know who to ask.

“Mr. Huggles,” said Lily, tucking her teddy bear under her arm and snuggling into her pillow. “Why does Daddy drink so much alcohol?”

Mr. Huggles was quiet for a moment, processing Lily’s question. He knew that this was a sensitive subject, and he didn’t want to give her an answer that might upset her. But he also knew that Lily deserved to know the truth.

“Well, Lily,” said Mr. Huggles, his voice gentle and kind. “Sometimes, adults drink alcohol to help them cope with difficult things in their lives. It’s not a good way to cope, but it’s what some people do.”

Lily frowned, not entirely satisfied with Mr. Huggles’ answer. “What kind of difficult things?” she asked.

Mr. Huggles hesitated. He knew that this was the crux of the matter, but he wasn’t sure how much he should tell Lily. He decided to be honest, but to keep things as simple as possible.

“Well,” he said, “sometimes adults feel sad or angry or stressed, and they don’t know how to deal with those feelings. Drinking alcohol can make them feel better in the short term, but in the long term it can cause a lot of problems.”

Lily thought about this for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. “Does Daddy feel sad or angry or stressed?” she asked.

Mr. Huggles sighed. He wished he could give Lily a straightforward answer, but the truth was that he didn’t know exactly what was going on with Lily’s father. All he knew was that drinking too much alcohol was never a good thing.

“I’m not sure, Lily,” he said finally. “But I do know that drinking too much alcohol can be dangerous and can cause a lot of problems. It’s important to remember that Daddy loves you very much, no matter what.”

Lily nodded, feeling a little bit better. She hugged Mr. Huggles tightly, grateful for his wisdom and his kind heart. She didn’t entirely understand why her father was drinking so much, but she knew that she could always count on Mr. Huggles to listen and to offer his support.

Over the next few weeks, Lily noticed that her father’s drinking seemed to be getting worse. He would come home from work and go straight to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and then another and another. Sometimes he would get angry and start yelling, and Lily would hide in her room, clutch

User continue with story please ChatGPT ing Mr. Huggles tightly and wishing things could go back to the way they used to be.

One evening, Lily was sitting in her room, playing with Mr. Huggles and trying not to think about her father’s drinking. But she couldn’t help wondering why he was doing it. She missed the way things used to be, when her father would read her stories and play games with her. She wanted to understand what had changed.

“Mr. Huggles,” she said softly, looking up at her teddy bear. “Why won’t Daddy stop drinking?”

Mr. Huggles paused, considering his answer. He knew that Lily was feeling very confused and scared, and he wanted to help her as best he could.

“Well, Lily,” he said finally, “addiction can be a very powerful thing. When people start drinking too much, it can be hard to stop. They may want to stop, but their bodies and their brains are telling them that they need the alcohol to feel normal. It’s not easy to break that cycle.”

Lily nodded, feeling a little bit better. She understood that her father wasn’t drinking because he didn’t love her or her mother. It was something that he couldn’t control, something that was bigger than him.

“Is there anything we can do to help him?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

Mr. Huggles smiled. He was so proud of Lily for wanting to help her father. “Well,” he said, “we can be here for him. We can let him know that we love him and that we want him to be happy and healthy. And we can encourage him to get help if he needs it.”

Lily nodded again, feeling determined. She hugged Mr. Huggles tightly, grateful for his wisdom and his kindness. She knew that she couldn’t fix her father’s problem on her own, but she also knew that she didn’t have to. She had her mother, her teddy bear, and a whole community of people who loved her and wanted to help.

Over the next few weeks, Lily started to see some changes in her father. He still drank, but not as much as before. He started going to AA meetings and talking to a therapist. He apologized to Lily and her mother for his behavior, and he started spending more time with them. Lily was overjoyed to see her father back to his old self, and she knew that it wouldn’t have been possible without the love and support of her family and friends.

One day, as Lily was getting ready for bed, she hugged Mr. Huggles tightly and thanked him for everything he had done for her.

“Mr. Huggles,” she said, “you’re the best friend I could ever ask for. Thank you for always being there for me, even when things are tough.”

Mr. Huggles smiled, feeling a little bit teary-eyed. He was so proud of Lily for her strength and her compassion. She was growing up to be a wonderful person, and he was honored to be a part of her life.

“Lily,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “You’re the reason I was created. I was made to be your friend, your confidant, and your guide. I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

Lily smiled, feeling warm and loved. She snuggled into her pillow, hugging Mr. Huggles tightly. She knew that no matter what the future held, she would always have her teddy bear by her side, ready to listen and to offer his wise advice. Together, they would face whatever came their way, one day at a time.

A Simple Anxiety Relief Tip

Today I’m sharing a simple anxiety relief tip that’ll calm you down in a hurry.

The next time you’re feeling anxious or freaking out about something, all you have to do is…


Yeah, I know that this sounds too easy to work, but you’re wrong about that.

Instead of dismissing the tip as too simplistic, the next time you’re frying yourself with anxiety or panic, take a long, slow, deep breath and at the natural pause between inhaling and exhaling make this mental suggestion to yourself: “Switch now!”

And then exhale slowly while silently repeating to yourself: “Switch now.”

This simple breathing technique to lessen anxiety will cause your brain and emotions to switch to a different perspective, one more positive and calm.

By the time you’ve finished one repetition of this tool, your anxiety should be notably reduced, if not completely gone. If that’s not the case, read on…

When I first started using this technique, it often took two or three repetitions to regain a degree of serenity and to lessen my anxiety, but there have been stressful times when multiple repetitions were required. There’s no penalty, by the way, if you need to take multiple repetitions, especially when you first start using this cool little tool.

With consistent practice, this anxiety relief technique provides real world results so be sure to give it a try, eh?

The Nature of Time and Shakira

Here’s hopefully a little amusement as well as the latest important news from CasaDay…

In a frustrating attempt to impede calcification of my old brain, I’ve recently taken to watching YouTube videos about the nature of time. I wish I could report intellectual progress and a deep understanding of this important topic that affects each of us, but, alas, I’m more confused than ever.

I mean, seriously, the video I watched last night posited a one-on-one causal relationship between time and space: If there is no space, then there’s no time. Or something like that.

I tried to wrap my head around this concept.

No luck there.

In fact, I’m confident I’d have an easier time super glueing the big toe of my right foot to my left ear.

I guess I’ll quit worrying about the entire topic and just glance at a clock when the urge to understand the nature of time again raises its ugly head.

I mean, seriously, why do I feel this compulsion to understand the nature of time? It’s an absurd goal, actually. Especially since my kids are grown, my wife and dog are happily reunited in the Great Beyond, the lawn’s mowed for this week, the 22-year old air conditioner is still running, and Colombia’s super star singer, Shakira, recently kicked her husband out of their home for cheating on her.

Although I can’t swear to the truth of this, rumblings are making the rounds that I can expect a call from Shakira this weekend because she wants to date a mature writer of paperback thrillers, especially one trying to understand the nature of time.

From the mean-spirited and negative social media comments about what I considered a fabulous performance at the 2020 SuperBowl, I know Shakira’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but from personal experience, I also know watching one of her music videos in the a.m. is as invigorating as three cups of coffee:

I was unable to find a video of Ms. Shakira pondering the nature of time, but she may not be as open as I am to sharing intellectual activities online. In any event, I’m here to help her in any way I can!

Speaking of cans, I’m now thinking of a certain popular product from Dinty Moore that contains real potatoes and carrots in a thick brown gravy with large chunks of mystery meat.

And that thought triggered an important realization, the realization that using “beef stew” as a password is a pretty stupid choice because it’s not stroganoff.

With that said, I wish everyone a happy, healthy, and fun weekend with family and friends.