Mile Nerd

Take A Trip

‘Tis the season once again. Some say there’s magic in the air.
Well, our voyage is departing soon
Far from a day-to-day affair.

Close your eyes, now take a breath. As I grant you this one chance
Our waltz back through the hands of time
Will be a special sort of dance.

Short count to 3, then we’ll arrive. It might catch you by surprise.
Oh, for what you’ll find before you
Must be seen with softer eyes.

We’ve landed now. Your childhood home. It’s many years ago.
In these walls, the ones that shaped you
With all of life ahead to grow.

It’s Christmas Eve. The tree is up. And so is one young pair.
Both of your parents look so vibrant
Dad sports his thicker head of hair.

Mom scoots around with fervor. So much lighter on her feet
Years haven’t slowed her down just yet
As she bakes another treat.

You gasp and try to catch your breath. To see them look this way…
Have long forgotten them as youthful
Before all of life’s decay.

You rub your eyes. Compose yourself. Now moving down the hall
In the bedroom, you lie sleeping
Under posters on the wall.

Just so tiny in that blanket. Didn’t know it way back then
With a yawn, the child arises
And then grabs a favorite pen. 

Your younger self begins to write. A list of gifts and toys?
But then you get a closer look
At your mind before the noise.

“I just want us to be happy.” Is all you see upon the pad.
These words, part of a long-lost blur
Before your armor had been clad.

Back down the hall, one final glimpse. Both parents in their room. 
Must remember dad’s unwrinkled eyes
Breathe in mom’s go-to perfume.

They’ll never hear the words you shout: “Guys, these times will move so fast!
We all need to do it better,
None of this will ever last”

Clock ticking on our trip now, as you race back down the hall
To the child you were, so long ago
That’s when tears begin to fall.

After decades of the fight inside. New sensation in your heart.
There wasn’t something wrong with you
Not a single missing part.

Then, boom, your trip is over. Landing back in current life.
All the aches and pains returning too
Fifteen different types of strife.

You pass by a reflection. Sure, that face now has some flaws
The toll it costs to grow this age
Can’t get back time from Mr. Claus.

Still, something big has shifted. A child reignites inside.
Says, “Drink in more love.
And share your glass.”

This old dog’s spirit hasn’t died.

Photo-Op

It was a perfect Las Vegas weekend.

She hit every one of her football bets. Literal perfection.

As for me? I scarfed down a month’s worth of red meat, lost my voice, and almost came close to breaking even.

Good times were had. The memories shall live on. But all reminiscing is now officially paused. Because it’s time to put the ol’ game face on. Gotta check in with myself. Yup, both palms are sweaty. Breathing is elevated. That’s right…

It’s time for the trip home.

This demanding trek is not for the faint of heart. Look, if you haven’t driven from Vegas back to the west coast…

You’ve never met pure terror.

Ok, here’s the situation…

California drivers only know traffic. They have zero clue what to do with themselves when unleashed. Like, imagine if you were starving to death. And then, out of nowhere, hamburgers started raining from the sky. How would you feel? How does a human even react? That…my friends…is what it’s like when Californians see 300 miles of open desert highway.

So, how do they react?

I’ll tell you how. By driving absolutely batshit crazy. Visualize the energy of a crackhead sprinting to a pot of crack at the end of a rainbow. That’s exactly what Interstate 15 back to Los Angeles is like.

This desert drive might as well be a Formula 1 race. With no need for Ferraris or Lamborghinis. On this journey, a Honda Civic can move at the same speed. Over here, every awkward Californian becomes Vin Diesel from the Fast And Furious movies. This trip should take 5 hours. Everyone around me is trying to do it in 90 minutes.

So, I remain focused.

Eye of the tiger activated.

Game face on.

Fords and Toyotas whip past me like Usain Bolt by a turtle. I can’t even look down for a sip of water. This herculean task requires all my focus. Now an hour into the madness, I’m deep in the belly of the beast. No food or gas exits to be found. No reprieve at all. Just a whole lot of endless desert. And a collection of maniacs trying to break the speed of sound.

I haven’t spoken aloud for the past 45 minutes.  

She asks if I’m doing ok.

Apparently, I look stressed.

Like Samuel L Jackson from A Time To Kill, I yell out:
“Yes, I’m feeling stressed! And I hope they burn in hell!”

(Narrator: He was, in fact, not doing ok)

Then, suddenly, all the zooming cars come to a complete halt…

Nothing but brake lights. The entirety of Interstate 15 is now at a standstill. Our long line of lunatics in road rockets? All back to their natural habitat. Sitting in traffic. But what on earth is causing this? I mean, the I-15 is Nevada’s version of the Autobahn.

And then I realize how dark it is…

Nothing blue above me.

No clouds to be found.

Wait, this is early afternoon. What on earth is HAPPENING IN THE SKY?

I can’t describe it as anything but apocalyptic. Truly what this feels like. No other words in the dictionary for it. The entire sky is darkness and smoke. Impossible to see more than a few yards ahead.

Things stay like this for a few minutes. Until we gradually creep forward. Darkness now clearing up. And then she spots it. Points her finger at something ahead…

On the shoulder of Interstate 15 is an RV on fire. Everyone has safely escaped. But, visually, this is just incredible. Such an insane sight to behold. We’re deep in the middle of the desert looking at an RV engulfed in flames. Never seen anything like this in my life. Easily the most incredible photo opportunity of the year.

Traffic is moving a bit faster, so I quickly hand her my phone.

I ask, “Can you get this shot???”

She snaps the picture and says with more confidence than I’ve ever heard from another human:
“I got the shot.”

I start imagining all the photography competitions we’ll win. This visual is stunningly original. No way to properly describe it. But, then again, I guess a picture does speak a thousand words.  

Editor’s Note:
The following image is the picture that was taken in this moment.

Legendary Speeches: The 2025 Edition

I have a dream.

That little black boys and little black girls will sit at the same table with little white boys and little white girls…

While never once making eye contact.

Because no child will be able to look away from their phone.

Yes, I have a dream.

Of a world full of men and women embracing AI…

Mainly because of stock prices.

Rather than realizing it will one day cost them their jobs.

I have a dream, my brothers and sisters.

That we will ask each other how we lived without the great advances…

As we rely more and more on machines.

And eventually stop developing any skills of our own.

Oh, I have a dream today!

Of a land where all are so barraged by information…

That none of us will remember how to filter out noise.  

Losing our ability to focus for longer than a few seconds.

To be sure, I have a dream.

That we shall become a land of strange cults…

Worshiping a collection of autistic billionaires.

Trusting that, yes, these cartoonlike figures will look after our best interests.

By God, I have a dream today.

Of leaders becoming more divisive than ever…

As we say a final goodbye to adulthood.

And give ourselves fully to overgrown children on a makeshift playground.

Indeed, I have a dream.

That each of us will look with gusto at the other side…

Searching for the most shocking example we can find.

So we may define the opposition as that.

I have a vivid dream.

Of a world where we are connected to one another 24 hours per day…

While still losing our sense of connection.

And not understanding why.

I have a special dream.

That, in this land, an increase in violence will no longer surprise us…

Seeing it more as a chance to chastise our “rivals.”

Rather than feeling our own heartbreak and humanity.

Let me tell you about my dream.

Of a world in which our kids live longer…

Now with all of their diseases cured.

As they feel less and less alive.  

I have a dream…

New Hire

Thank you so much for coming in. Your reputation precedes you. And, quite frankly, this resume was head and shoulders above anything we expected to receive.

I’m the goat.

Um, yes indeed. Well, as you know, we hope to gain some of your expertise when it comes to connecting with younger generations–

Lowkey thirsty.

Oops, sorry. Let me get you some water. I assume Evian is acceptable? On that note, I should mention that we have a number of international clients. A growing market. By chance, do you speak any other languages?

Si.

How wonderful. So, you speak fluent Spanish?

Nah, j/k.

Apologies. Sorry, I seem to be getting a bit confused here. When you said “si,” it sounded like–

You’re extra.

Oh…thank you so much. I certainly try. Now, we did hear back from each of your professional references. And I’m not quite sure how to put this. Your reputation is – well, rave reviews is an understatement. One client called you a “wizard with words.” Multiple people referred to you as a linguistic genius–

Fire.

Certainly. Sorry, not to pry, but do you always speak in…catchphrases?

That slaps.

Oh, no no. We oppose violence – whether physical or verbal. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just…well…let’s move on. So, that was a no to foreign languages, correct?

Salty.

Hmm, I didn’t quite catch that one. But we can just skip to the meat of the questions. Are you at all familiar with our business model?

Go woke, go broke.

Well, I’m not sure our organization is…woke. I mean, our revenue stream comes mostly from cigarette sales. And, as a tobacco company, there’s no big secret to why you’re here. We need a new head of marketing. Our reputation has, uh, taken a bit of a hit. We believe a fresh, new voice will connect with the youth. And you are second to none in that respect. So, here’s the bottom line. We need you. It will be VERY good for business if we can learn how to speak to younger generations. Because they pretty much hate us right now.

No cap.

I mean, I don’t know exactly what our valuation cap is. Not off the top of my head. But I can have that information to you by the end of the day. Is that acceptable?

Mid.

Yes, precisely. We did reach mid-cap status this year. Thank you so much for doing your homework on us. I speak for the entire organization when I say we are honored you’ve taken such an interest.

I stan.

Again, wow. Just so impressive. Yes, internally we do expect Stanley to be our next CFO. But that information hasn’t been released publicly yet. May I ask how you even know that? I hope you don’t mind. Did you see it in the news somewhere?

Ok, boomer.

Um, excuse me. I do understand that one. And I can’t say I appreciate the insult. Not in my own office.

Sus.

Now, wait just a minute. Sus? Sus?? I have two children at home. Not much older than you, by the way. And they both already call me th—

Let ‘em cook.

Ok young man, that’s enough. Time for you to go. You can walk those hip jeans and fancy sneakers right out the door. I said hit the road! Get your Gen Z, too-cool-for-school energy out of here!! Pretty sure I have neckties older than you!!!

Cringe.

Um, hold on a second. Ok? If you could just…maybe…not share this story with your followers. Please. It wouldn’t be good for the company. Or for me individually…

That tracks.

So…are we ok? Can we just put this aside? Honestly, I do respect what you’ve accomplished. Just kind of lost my head for a minute. Look, I know you’re the best of the best. As Time Magazine said, you are a master of modern communication. So, please don’t leave. In fact, why don’t you just go ahead and name your terms? Write down a number. Because we’d love for you to be the voice of this company. What do you think? How does that sound?

Lit.

Star Of The Shop

Confession time…

I occasionally get my eyebrows threaded.

Yup, that’s right. Deal with it, manly men. Congrats on your ability to chew glass and spit out nails. I realize that you can eat fire and fart out handcrafted wooden furniture. Look, I get that you shave with a machete. And do all of it while sipping from a can of beer…

But the face I look at in the mirror each day?  

It could easily grow a massive, thick unibrow.

So, yeah, I get this taken care of every couple months.

And allow me be even more honest. I actually like going to the eyebrow place. No, wait, let me correct that. I secretly love walking in there. Why? Because it feels damn good to take care of myself. Fine, sue me. Shouldn’t we take pride in respecting oursel—

—ok, sorry, that’s actually not the reason I love walking in there.

Here’s the real truth…

The old lady who runs the place apparently thinks I’m the studliest guy around. Quite literally. I mean, she doesn’t even call me by name. Not even sure she remembers my name at this point. She just refers to me as, “Handsome.”

“Hello handsome!”

“Good to see you, handsome!”

“How are you, handsome?!”

And so on.

Not gonna lie. It feels pretty great to hear. Especially as an aging nerd with sore hamstrings and a bunch of gray in my beard. But, man, when I walk in there? It’s like Handsomefest ’97.

Cut to last week:

I take a look down at the ol’ calendar.

Boom, it’s eyebrow time.

I walk through those doors. Strutting in there as usual. Almost gliding. Even the hamstring feels great on eyebrow day. I look around at all the old ladies in their chairs. Wait, are they checking me out too? Sure seems that way. Does everyone in here think I’m a stud?

Hey, maybe that’s just called good taste.   

I grab a seat and wait my turn. Flashing my megawatt smile at all the friendly faces. Is this what it feels like to be a movie star? Nothing but adoration. Fans all around.

Welcome to Stud City.
Population: me.

I pick up a magazine as another guy walks in. Please note that I would never make fun of his appearance. That’s not who I am. But let’s just say he looks like a total mess. People would probably describe him as, “unfortunate looking.”

Sorry, bro.

You can’t all be movie stars.

The eyebrow lady takes notice of his entrance. Poor guy. But then she turns excitedly to him and says:

“Hello handsome!”

Wait, what?

Hold on a minute.

And then it dawns on me…

As my cockiness melts into panic.

While my hamstring tightens up like a rock…

Apparently, this is just the word she uses for EVERY GUY WHO WALKS IN THE DOOR. To her, all of us are “handsome.”

I sure wish I could tell you what happened next.

But I blacked out for the next 3 days.

So, to summarize, I no longer take part in the act of grooming.

I now chew glass and fart out handcrafted coffee tables.

Oh, and if you ever run into me anywhere?

Please ignore my eyebrows.