I recommend watching this in a theater…

The strangest movie of 2026.

So many viewers COMPLETELY missed the point of it.

But you won’t.

I am, of course, referring to a “documentary” called You Can See Everything.

(Minor spoilers below – but they will only help your viewing experience)

As I was saying…

Go see it.

But if your main takeaway is about Billy…the husband of Elizabeth Holmes…

If you’re focused on that…

Well, she duped you too.

Add you’ll be added to her hit list.

Yes, Elizabeth Holmes is married to a weirdo. No shit.

That. Isn’t. The. Point. At. All.

Nobody will ever watch this and think:
“Hey, you know who’s awesome? Her husband. Dude seems cool.”

So, if you do walk out of a theater focused on him? It’s like going to the Louvre but admiring their restroom. Pretty much the same thing. Let’s be very clear. This movie gives us footage of a SPACE ALIEN.

She isn’t just one of the most famous living grifters.

Not simply one of our world’s best liars.

She. Is. An. Alien.

No, Elizabeth Holmes didn’t actually come from another planet. Although she might as well have. This person is not like any other human you’ve come to know. And it’s fascinating to watch. She is the point. That’s our shooting star. Not some dipshit husband. He’s merely a garden variety doofus. But her?

For 3 hours, you get to watch a space alien operate.

Need a bit more action? Done. It’s where our director comes in. Nathan is most famous for messing with people. Making a fool of others and himself. But he also dives into a subject. So, people never quite know what’s real and what’s not. It’s always interesting. But when our subject is a true master of the grift…

We’re treated to an epic game of chicken.

Because nobody commits to a bit like Nathan…

…except for Elizabeth Holmes.

This space alien would rather go to prison than step out of her lie. He’s only mastered ACTING like an oddball. For entertainment. The more awkward a situation, the better. But this movie brings out his true heavyweight opponent. Because she doesn’t lie for entertainment. It’s her lifestyle choice. She lives it.

The game is set…

His commitment to the bit versus her commitment to the lie.

Just how good a grifter is Elizabeth Holmes? Well, we find her in a Del Mar beach house. Uh…how did that happen? Wasn’t she supposed to be left in the wreckage? Let’s be honest. She doesn’t have any of the normal femme fatale tools. Not a looker. Decidedly un-sexy. A personality that’s awkward at best. With no crumb of a sense of humor. Oh, and she’s an internationally shamed outcast…

And, yet, she has no problem nabbing a rich guy on her way to PRISON.

Sure, he’s a clown. But one who bankrolls her lavish lifestyle. How does she continue do this? Remember all those other rich guys she hypnotized with her weird mental voodoo? We’re talking about someone who didn’t even study science…

But convinced very smart people that she was a scientific visionary.

Taking millions from them.

Building a sham to the point of being worth 9 billion dollars.

Hopping from college dropout to the cover of Forbes magazine.

And now, on her way to prison, she still won’t surrender the lie.

In her Theranos days, the space alien pulled off a Steve Jobs impersonation. Studied hard. Projecting what a great entrepreneur looks like. Sounds like. Changing her personality to make the grift effective. And now…

SHE HAS A COMPLETELY NEW PERSONA.

The alien studied how humans look when we’re being truthful. Sympathetic. Eye contact…a gentle gaze…the soothing sweet tone…and a very calm voice. She does all of it well.

So effectively, in fact…

That it is AGAIN working on people.

In spite of her being one of the world’s most famous grifters.

She wants you to focus on her buffoon of a husband. A new and clever strategy for control. By “showing” you that she doesn’t have any. As always, she commits fully. Looks the part. Sounds genuine. Her ability to adapt? It’s otherworldly. Which makes sense. Considering she is, in fact, a space alien.

There’s a human “all-in.”

And then there’s Elizabeth Holmes All-In.

No matter what is needed, she’s up to the task. She will go to prison. She will marry a fool. She will make babies. She will be the subject of a “documentary.” She will do whatever a lie requires. Diving way deeper than we earthlings can comprehend.  

Nathan sees this. Knows he won’t win. Not against the heavyweight champ. So, he allows the audience to see her at work. Letting us (and himself) get swept up by her. Does he get conned? Or is it all just part of his bit?

In the end, that doesn’t matter.

Because this isn’t really a “documentary.”

It’s a glimpse at a master puppeteer.

Holmes has one genuine moment in the entire 3 hours. It’s very quick. Obviously, she’s a skillful actor who can change personas and cry on command. But in this one moment? She hears the details of her prison stay. And it affects her. We get a tiny peek. Those tears are different. We see an actual person for a few seconds. This young woman who’s frightened about going to jail. Minus the manipulation. Minus her games.

But only for a moment.

Before the alien takes over again.    

What happens when you commit to dishonesty for this long? When you do it this fully?

Is it even possible to come back?

Or if you play the part of a space alien this well…

Do you eventually become one?

Sitting on a flight back from Hawaii.

I booked us in 17A and 17C. The window and aisle. Is this luxurious? Nope. But it tends to work out fine…

Best case, the middle seat is empty. Big win!
Worst case? I always just say the same thing to any rando being sandwiched:

“If you let me hog the armrest, you can take this aisle seat.”

Without fail, they’re thrilled to jump at the unexpected offer. 

Well…

This total wackadoo next to me is attempting to make history.

So, yeah, it’s in-flight diary time…

—

How did this go so wrong? 

Let’s retrace the steps:

1 – She accepted my offer. Aaaaaand…
2 – Is still TOTALLY hogging the armrest.

It’s quite the pickle.

Our nonverbal armrest battle is not how I want to spend the next 5 hours.

Aloha vibes. They shall protect me from going to war. 

Just breathe.

We’ll figure this out.

—

I mean, I was totally clear on the terms – aisle seat for her, armrest for me.

Did she not understand? Did she forget?? Does she just not care???

Looking back, there was indeed a clear first sign of trouble.

I asked if she needed help with her bag.  

Her response? An ice-cold:

“Gimme a MINUTE”

I see.

So sorry to bother you with an offer to lift that heavy bag.  

Sincerely,

A complete stranger who is both losing his mind and his armrest         

—

Four hours to go.

Can’t remember a time before our arms were touching.

I believe she’s trying to shove me off this armrest.

It. Will. Not. Happen.

Apparently, she doesn’t know how many times I’ve watched Over The Top starring Sylvester Stallone. An underrated classic. With a plot that revolves around arm-wrestling.

I know ALL the secrets to this sport.

Settle, bro.

Just surf the Aloha vibes.

At least for the remainder of this flight.

—

Three hours to go.

Current status? Dying slowly inside.

Y’know that sorority girl smoker voice…

She has it.

Nails on a chalkboard combined with old timey casino worker.   

By the way, she’s nowhere near sorority/college age.

That didn’t stop her from wearing Vans and pajama pants, though.

Please send help.

—

If I had to guess her age?

My target range would be somewhere between 30 and 75.

Either grew up in the Britney Spears era or during the Korean War.

As with all the best lunatics…it’s impossible to know how old she is. 

She’s timeless.

Much like rabies. Or the plague.

Two hours to go.

—

Her pasty, scaly arm is now overflowing to my side of the armrest. 

We keep…

Rubbing. 

I’m trying to remember a life before the feel of her rough skin against mine.

In some cultures, this could qualify as dating.

On that note, I might be infected with something.

Is there a doctor nearby?

Or an exorcist?

—

She’s watching a strange video on her phone.

Good time to ponder the question:

Which is worse?
A) Her smokey, snorty laugh.
Or
B) The dry, leathery skin rubbing against my arm as she dry heaves giggles.

The correct answer is…kill me now.

I once heard a bird screech – while dying – after a truck hit it. 

My seat neighbor’s laugh is a more unpleasant sound. 

—

Ok, that last part was a slight exaggeration.  

But this is 100% true:

She just spread her legs like a dude and scratched her crotch. 

For real.

Aloha vibes.

Hold on to them for dear life.  

—

Ah, yes, the familiar sound of her snorting.

She’s texting a friend.

Is that a laugh or some sort of coughing spasm?

Her writing style is interesting.  

Imagine typing exclusively with words from The Douchebag Handbook.

I see “lit,” “fam,” and a half-dozen uses of “lowkey” on that screen.

She appears to be “here for it” on all subjects.

—

The bane of my existence is currently asleep…

Face down on her tray.

Possible signs of drool.

But I have now, finally, taken sole ownership of the armrest.

A rare win.

The calm before our next storm. 

Most people look peaceful when they sleep…

She just looks like trouble on pause.

One hour to go.

—

Damn.

I need to use the bathroom. 

Big dilemma. 

I could hold it in the hopes of lasting until the airport. Uncomfortable? Yup. But she might stay passed out for the rest of this flight…

Strong option. 

OR…

I could risk possible death by waking a pit bull from its nap.

Tough call.

Bladder is screaming for relief.   

—

Shit.

Couldn’t hold it any longer.

Upon further review, I should’ve just peed in a cup. 

Uh, yeah, she wakes up cranky.

An odd and very intense energy right now.  

Her seat movements could best be described as…turbocharged.

—

Great time for our next question:

Is she coked up?

Hard to say. But zero chance I’m approaching the armrest right now.

Might lose a finger in the tornado.

Are we there yet?

—

I often hear the word, “meditation.”

Her current state is the exact opposite of that.  

Waking her up was a huge mistake.

Remember the movie “Gremlins” when that cute little guy turns into a demon?

This is kind of the same. 

(Minus the cute part)

—

We’re getting off the plane now.

She looks…wobbly.

I’m starting to wonder if those laughs really were a coughing fit.

Wait, was that drool…or snot?

Hold on, is she sick??

Oh, no.

—

3 days later:

Can you remember the last time your mind was blown…

When meeting someone new?

Our little worlds collide with people each day. Quick encounters. Blink and they’re gone. Most of these strangers are friendly enough. A few make us smile. Maybe even laugh…

But when was the last time a “collision” blew your mind?   

Those faces all blur together, don’t they? One after the next. Would’ve been hard to think of the last stranger who stuck in my head…

Until last week.

Just a regular day. Pulling up at home. Turning off the engine. Spotting an old Persian lady with her Trader Joe’s bag in one hand. White cane in the other. Walking carefully down the road…

Hold on.

She’s blind??

See, I’ve been roaming these streets for the last 20 years and have NEVER seen a blind person on them. Literally not once. Tough terrain, to put it mildly. I don’t even get how someone could do it here. Fast-moving cars, tons of dogs, and super damaged sidewalks. If this neighborhood was a ski slope? Double black diamond. Even with both eyes intact, I’ve stumbled more times than I can count.

She looks to be struggling…

As I exit my car, she says “hello” into the void. Kind of just speaking to the darkness. In case someone is there, I guess.

Well, good timing…

I respond with a hello and walk over.

She asks if this is Ventura Boulevard and I say, “No, it’s Orion.” She looks bummed about that. But I’m locked into Careful Mode. Y’know, in case she’s crazy. We’re in the big city, after all. Then I look down at her small frame struggling with a bag of groceries. Come on, man. Get it together. She’s just old, blind, and turned around.

I ask where she’s heading.

It’s only a few streets away in the same neighborhood. We talk for a minute. I figure, fine, lemme ask if she wants a ride. Even though I vowed decades ago to never do that again. Had a weird experience in West Virginia with the wrong stranger. But take off the jaded guy armor for one second, dude. Just lower the drawbridge. What’s a blind old lady gonna do? I face way more danger each day from Jimmy, the neighbor’s dog.  

She asks:
“Could you walk me back to Hayvenhurst?”

Apparently, the route is easy from that intersection. I guess it’s where she steps off the bus. Easy to get spun around in that spot. She says it happened once before. Ok, wait, I’m still stuck on HOW DOES SHE TAKE A BUS? To go grocery shopping? With no vision.

I mean, what does she do when she gets there??

We start walking down to Hayvenhurst. She grabs my hand for some guidance. Strangers two minutes ago. Now holding hands. Looks like we’re in this together now. I don’t even hold hands with my closest friends. It’s actually kind of nice. My palms do get a bit sweaty as she stumbles on a broken piece of sidewalk. Oops. Forgot I’m supposed to be the one on lookout duty. Because, again, I can’t seem to grasp the fact that everything in front of her is pitch black. Says she prefers walking in the street. Sidewalks are trickier. I’m locked in now. There’s not gonna be any more stumbling.

This lady chats me up the entire way. With gusto. Asks if I just got home from work. Wants to hear about what I do. Says she can look me up by “talking into” her phone to find stuff online. I guess everything for her must be voice activated. Me? I’d probably be in the fetal position without my sense of sight. Not her. Just chatting away. Laughing on our stroll. I’m watching for all the potential danger in our terrain. Wondering how she does all the little things each day.

What is it, a thousand times more difficult? A million?

She has a perky type of spirit. Like a warm breeze of outgoing friendliness. I ask about the vision. Her retina deteriorated. Been blind for the last 23 years. Only sees minor stuff with shadows. Apparently, she’s staying around here to help a friend who’s even older.

Wait, this isn’t even her neighborhood??

How is she doing any of this???

We arrive at Hayvenhurst. She assures me that it’s all good from here. Knows the way home. I watch her move down the sidewalk…still blown away by the reality of it. Every single day. No removing a blindfold to get back to “normal.” I can’t help but notice this suddenly terrifying disaster of a sidewalk. Strangers ten minutes ago. Now worried about terrain.

I walk back home. And immediately jump in the car with my girlfriend Linda. Filling her in. Realizing it’s 95 degrees outside…and I just took off on a blind lady.

We find our way back to her. I hop out and ask if she’s doing ok. Again, the situation is surreal for me. But just another day for her. She says my name to confirm it’s me because, literally, I’m a voice in the dark.

Within seconds, I’m laughing because this lady is just so spunky. It’s a full-on yappy conversation again. She accepts the ride. I hop in the back. This confuses her for a second because it’s two of us in here. Imagine that. To not even know who’s sitting in the car she entered. Destination is just a couple streets away from here. It’s very chatty. A fun minute or two until we get there. At one point, a couple of tears roll out of her eye. She says, “That is a happy tear. Because I’m glad to meet you.”

Getting her home safely, we say goodbye. Days pass. I settle back in my old routine. And, yet, this “collision” with a stranger still lingers. Not a disposable interaction like so many. I can’t help but wonder how she’s doing.

“When was the last time a collision blew your mind?”

It was just last week.

A stranger held my hand and made me laugh…

I worried about her…

Wanted to know her story…

And will continue to hope she’s ok.

Something’s on my mind. Not a fact. Just an honest question.

Could it be possible that I’m actually…a tiny bit…famous?

Weird question. Maybe off-putting? My fault. I really don’t want to offend you. It makes me sad when people get upset. Look, I know I’m not a movie star. Or some kind of great athlete. So, let’s not call it “famous.” But maybe…a little recognizable?

Here’s the thing:

I get these cool reactions from strangers. Happens ALL the time. Almost. Every. Day. We can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. So, forgive me if this sounds like bragging. Again, please don’t get mad. I really don’t know how else to put it – a lot of people DO come up to me. And, if we’re being totally honest…

I kind of love it.

Lemme break down the pattern. Out minding my own business. Looking for food or whatever. And then I meet eyes with a total stranger. They light up. Almost as if they know me. Women, in particular. Not exactly the worst part of my day. Sometimes they’ll just smile. Often, they linger to talk for a while. You might be wondering…am I looking my best? Nope. Usually just dirty and out for a walk. But. It. Doesn’t. Matter. The attention keeps coming.   

I know this sounds like bragging.

Trust me. Totally not the case. Let’s run through the list. I’m overweight. Gassy. Apparently, I even drool when sleeping. And my breath? Not always minty fresh. Which is EXACTLY my point. This is not an awesome list of traits. Almost like nothing stops people from being excited to see me.

Oh yeah, one more. Don’t get me started on what it’s like when I’m hungry. Oof. Just a total pain in the butt. I get moody. Almost like nothing exists in the world beyond my next meal.

So, you’ve heard actual celebrities talk about what it’s like to get approached. How lame it is? Right? Well, lean in closely and I’ll tell you the truth…

It’s the best.

Now, I’m not a celebrity. And, at times, I wonder if I’ve landed in some cool/unique crack in the universe. Kind of a like a black hole – but an awesome one. Is life perfect? Of course not. You should see how many squirrels are tearing up my yard as we speak. Annoying. Or how about society? Are human beings perfect?  

Nope.

I mean, what’s with ALL the drama? So unnecessary. Even the “important” things like jobs and money? All of it is just randomness that someone made up along the way. But there’s a flip side. Humans do invent some pretty cool stuff too…

When’s the last time you really stopped for a second to appreciate something simple? Like cars. Seems like everyone drives them. But I remain in TOTAL awe. Wanna do a fun experiment today? Roll down your windows. Hit a long stretch of open road. And feel that breeze. Really feel it. Get lost in the bliss.

Slice of heaven, if you ask me.

Sure, sometimes it feels like I live for the weekends. Gets a bit lonely during the workday. But that’s why I try to make the most of holidays. Hanging out. All the little things. Like tossing a ball around with the best people in the world. My family.

Maybe some occasions are a bit too much…

Like, do we really need to light fireworks for everything? So excessive. Thanksgiving is more my speed. Just a big ol’ pile of turkey and a long nap on the couch. Can’t wait for that chill time. But before it arrives…

We endure my least favorite holiday…

The complete and total mess in late October.

I mean, come on.

Costumes? Really?

Makes no sense why anyone would call it fun. Not my thing at all. Ok, maybe I’m being cranky. But it feels weird having all that stuff on me. So uncomfortable. And if we’re being totally honest? I do this crazy thing. Kind of like…I just freeze. Embarrassing to say out loud. Not sure why I do that. But it’s almost like my brain clicks off. Then I get motionless.

Oh boy, here they come now.

They want me to try on costumes?

Now? Already?

Why would they do this to me????

OH BOY, THEY’RE TRYING TO PUT IT ON.

Ok, gotta run.

AHHHHH IT’S ON ME!!!!!!!!!!! I’M TRAPPED!!!!!!!!!!

Aaaaaand…

Totally frozen.

I stare at walls for hours. Weeping softly in my beer.

Needing honks at every stoplight

So that I’ll put my car in gear.

No halfcourt shot from Curry. Oh, Mahomes where have you gone?

On CBS…a comedy

Enough of you, Vince Vaughn.

Basketball is over. And, still, football isn’t close.

All crackheads need a daily fix

IT’S 2 MONTHS TIL MY NEXT DOSE!

You think I need more balance. Or perhaps a breath?

My oxygen is from the games

Please see: Walter White + meth.

Long. This sports hiatus. I float through space and time.

What is life outside the seasons? 

A search for reason or some rhyme.

I phone my friend for guidance. To help me with the pain.

Call drops. A bad connection.

Must be weather, maybe rain?

He shows up at my doorstep. Looks weary and quite old.

While trembling hard, he hugs me tight

So frigid. Feels ice cold.

Dead-eyed, with just a whisper, he mumbles in a haze:

“Season kicks off with the Eagles…

…still another 60 days.”

My rugged friend, a bulldog. But now more like a pup.

I push him back, then ask with force:

“WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. A. WORLD. CUP?”

We walk for miles in silence. Blank stares of fallen men.

Both are shattered and heartbroken…

Surely never whole again.

Only soccer and lame baseball. Those crumbs are not a meal.

Then a miracle, it lifts us…

I hear a crowd begin to squeal.

Stadium? Behind those trees! Could it really be?

The spunkiness inside me lives…

We sprint ahead to see.

I’ll be rowdy once again! A wild and crazy menace!

All my passion as a fan is back…

(Oh, wait, I caught a glimpse)

This shit is only tennis.

Heart surgery for my mom. She needed some caretaking and we’ve been taking shifts. I’m here now. All is well.

Oh, also…

This is my 15^th straight night in West Virginia.

Fifteen.

I mean, it’s possible I’ve lost track of days.

Because, really, what is time anymore?

Impossible to measure when people are this friendly.

Over here, a “quick” conversation can range from 45 minutes to no-memories-of-a-time-before-this-chat.

Earlier today, I ran into a neighbor at the grocery store. Asked about my mom. We only parted ways because her ice cream started melting. Maybe that’s the cue to say goodbye in West Virginia?

But, yeah, it’s a nice way of life.

For example…

Wanna guess how many Get Well cards are on this mantle? Good luck. Can’t even see the mantle anymore. Just looks like a massive pile of good wishes floating on the wall. Even Rain Man would need a calculator.  

Each night brings a new set of friendly visitors. A parade of warm vibes. Tonight, Darlene and Carol will be a bit younger than the usual crowd. And, by that, I mean slightly closer to 70 than 80. No doubt they’ll be delightful. It’s a live stage version of The Golden Girls here each night.

The doorbell rings.

Darlene comes in like she was shot out of a cannon. Pulls me in for a giant hug. As if reuniting with her oldest friend. The kind of hug you get when it’s been way too long.

We just met.

Carol holds her arms out. She says:
“Where’s my hug? Oh, are they free – ok I’ll take two!”

Everyone cracks up.

The (tea) party is on.

They sit down for chai. Wait. Darlene has some juicy gossip. She fixed her daughter up with an amazing guy? My mom looks VERY intrigued. Haven’t seen her this alert since the two-hug joke. Ah, this matchmaking story took place during pickleball?

Unfortunate note:
I’ve entered into a coma. Please give me a moment. My body’s response is to go limp and unconscious when hearing the word “pickleball.”  

Ok, back to life. I hear Darlene talking about how Indian food is much harder to cook. Her daughter and pickleball guy just follow simple recipes.

Carol:
“I don’t like to cook.”

Darlene:
“But you’re so great in the kitchen!”

Carol:
“Doesn’t mean I like it in there.”

The room cracks up again.

Oh, that Carol!

Random thought:
How safe is it to consume chai at this speed?

Darlene has a granddaughter. I guess she’s a backup dancer for Beyonce. They ask if I know her. Which is such a West Virginia question. Also, are they referring to Beyonce or the daughter?

(This confusion might be a “me” problem. I don’t actually know what day of the week it is right now)

They move on to the topic of heart blockage stuff. But that’s lame. So, they pivot quickly…

It seems Carol adopted her kids. We’re talking decades ago. Normally, there wouldn’t be much follow-up on that subject. But this is West Virginia. Darlene and my mom want to know ALL the details. When did she tell the kids? How did that conversation go? To be honest, it’s quite a story.

Darlene smiles warmly and says:
“We’ve really missed this. Haven’t had chai with you in almost a year. Can you believe that?”

Nobody can believe it.

By my count, this is now their third round of chai. Possibly fourth. With no signs of slowing. I add some cookies to the heaping pile of snacks. Carol winks at me.

I’m unsure how to react.

A strange giggle comes out of my mouth.  

They exclaim this will probably be their dinner. Carol says she needs to lose weight because her pants are too tight. Waits for the response. Too late. We’re on to the next topic…

Mom asks if they’ve seen any movies recently. Says The Devil Wears Prada is out. Carol claims to have watched it already.

Mom responds, “No, there’s a sequel.”

A debate ensues.

Plot points are shared.

I’m pretty sure all three of them are talking about different Meryl Streep movies.

With that issue “resolved,” mom asks what’s going on with this country. Carol is NOT happy about gas prices. Takes a swig of chai. Tries to calm down. Apparently, copious amounts of caffeine is good for relaxation.  

Someone’s phone rings.

Either that or a bomb just went off.

Is there an unwritten rule? As humans get older…do phone ringers need to reach new levels of volume? Is that a law? We’ve got sounds at this table I didn’t even know an iPhone could produce.

On the line is Darlene’s daughter (Tracy).

Darlene tries to “click on the Facetime.” Wants her daughter to see their tea party. Can’t find the button.

Tracy:
“Mom, I’m on the interstate.”

Some good news. My ears have recovered from the sonic boom trauma of that ringer. Wait, why did it sound like an old rotary phone? How’s that even possible?

Carol is teaching them how to play mahjong.

In my life, I’ve never heard a more confusing description of anything. Also, Carol tends to speak at a low mumble. I’m having a hard time grasping even the basic concept of this game.

Darlene brings a pad over and says:
“Carol, show me.”

Turbocharged from her latest cup of tea, Carol writes intensely. Are those symbols? Is this…ancient hieroglyphics? The room is very confused. They decide more chai is needed to solve our latest mystery.

The phone rings.

Once again…I am deaf.

Because of my hearing damage, I can’t tell who’s on the other line. But she’s asking if anyone saw the rainbow earlier. Current excitement level is off the charts. Was there a pot of gold at the end of it? Or might this be about the caffeine intake right now?

There seems to be a new hotspot in town – The Green Door.

Mom says cocktails are $16.

They all gasp.

Also, how does she even know this? The woman hasn’t ordered a cocktail since Alf topped the Nielsen ratings.  

Darlene:
“Oh yes, it’s very upscale.”

Carol:
“No, that place isn’t upscale.”

Seconds later Carol asks, “What’s the green door?”

This appears to be another Devil Wears Prada situation. Facts are needed. Darlene grabs the wheel. Thanks to her very loud iPhone, she reads an online description of The Green Door.

It’s handled.

Until we find out she was reading the description for a different restaurant.

In Las Vegas.

Final cups of chai. Gotta be near the half-dozen mark by now.

They are very caffeinated.

More gushing about the rainbow. Carol can’t believe she missed it.

They’re starting to fade.

But, hey, at least they know what day it is.

Time for a warm goodbye. Lots of bear hugs. I think it’s possible I have a broken rib. Darlene says, “We’re going to take such good care of your mom.” Not even a tiny part of me doubts her. The door closes.

5 minutes later, Carol comes back.

Forgot to grab her sound machine phone.

She says, “I hope we’ll get another rainbow tomorrow.”

Yeah. Me too, Carol.

The door closes again.

Sigh.

I miss them already.

Here’s a brand new (occasional) feature at monthly posts with MileNerd.

Let’s call it…

One-moment microscope.

You know the movie. Marty McFly goes back to 1955. Finds the younger version of his parents. His world hangs in the balance. And our world? Blown away. Still cheering it on 40 years later. No doubt you’ve seen it multiple times. But, today, I’d like to show you something for the first time…

We’re going under the microscope. To look at a single word from Back To The Future.

(Yes, literally one word)

For this story to work, we have to see George McFly go through a major change. Marty’s dad is a coward. An embarrassment. His arc becomes one of the great surprises of the movie. Remember the first time you saw it? When George finds his courage and stands up to Biff? The entire audience fills with joy. You, me, and everyone else. We get it. Lorraine falls in love on the spot.

Because he’s not just a doormat anymore.

He’s brave.

Oh, but he has to get there…

See, his journey from wussification to strength is a major part of the story. George can’t just have balls from the start. Otherwise, there’s nowhere for him to go. So, let’s say you’re playing the character of George…

Who are you at the start? What’s your relationship like with Biff? And with your family? Clearly, none of them have a ton of respect for you. You’re a man with no backbone. Right?

So…

The audience needs to see who that is. We need to see it clearly. To feel bad when George gets picked on. To feel bummed for Marty having a dad like that. It’s important. Because that’s how we’ll really enjoy the big moment at the end. When George finally gets his triumph.

Please take a minute to look at this scene.

Feel free to watch the whole thing – but we’re really going to focus in on the 2:10 mark.

There’s one simple-yet-brilliant choice I’d like you to see. It’s a very quick little moment. But it’s part of what makes this movie special enough to live on for 4 decades. The choice is this…

Deciding that George is so timid, so afraid of confrontations…

…that he struggles just to say the word.

He. Literally. Has. To. Whisper. It.

That one choice tells us exactly who George McFly is. It helps set up his huge arc. Allowing us to bask in his glory later – when he chooses to be a different kind of man. Someone who no longer accepts being bullied. See, there are dozens of choices even in that short clip. But our micro-breakdown is about this one single word. This whisper.

It’s such a clever choice.

In a sense, it sets up the entire rest of the movie.

You get to go on a ride – with a coward who becomes a hero. Sharing in his big personal journey. You’ve watched many other stories about time travel. So, why did this one capture the imagination for decades?

It’s in these little choices and moments.

Under the microscope, they add up to something unforgettable.

My fellow Americans.

It’s with a deep sense of pride that I announce my candidacy. Yes, that’s right. I’m running for President of the United States.

Now I know what you’re thinking…

How could anyone possibly do it better? We’re already living in the golden age.

Fair point.

But let me ask you a question…

Shouldn’t we always strive for more? Or would you rather just rest on our (wildly impressive) laurels? Me, I believe in progress. And after carefully studying our society, it’s safe to say:

I know exactly what America wants.

Can I deliver this alone? Of course not. We’re all just flesh-and-blood individuals. But together we can be so much more. Please allow me a moment to humbly offer some new ideas. And if you share my dreams of a brighter future for our nation? Then maybe you’ll grant me the honor of your vote. Without further ado…

Here’s my five-point plan to make America kick ass again.

(pronounced MAKAA – say it loudly at the end, like a bird squawking)  

1 – Heal the bickering

Does anyone enjoy our election season anymore? All the arguments. Endless noise. Going on and on for months at a time. Both sides agree – it’s exhausting.

Well…

If elected, I’ll finally put an end to this excruciating process. No more months of bickering. That’s right. You’ll be able to sleep soundly in peace and quiet. Knowing our constant fighting will be over. Because now we’ll have only one BIG fight that decides our elections. An extravaganza. Yes, you guessed correctly. I’m talking about a cagematch in Madison Square Garden. Winner takes all.

Two humans, one cage.

The victor gets the presidency. The loser surrenders. And gets deported, of course. It’s a can’t miss pay-per-view event. Limited tickets available on the White House website.  

2 – Field experts, shmeild experts

Recently, I put a great deal of thought into this question – what is an expert? Is it even a real thing? Facts and “knowledge” get debated as much as opinions. There’s really only one thing we can agree on…

That our leaders always seem to be inept.

Aren’t you exhausted? I know I am. Why must we choose between two bad options? It’s almost like we’re being run by the worst of our society. Well, my government will be very different. With the best of us appointed to run America. That’s right…

I’m talking about celebrities.

You’re nodding your head furiously, right? Bingo. Who needs “knowledge” when you can have starpower? And we’re already off to a great start. After meeting with Tiger Woods over the weekend, he’s in negotiations for a role on my staff. I told him go ahead and pick any job. But, to me, Director Of Transportation feels like a great fit. It’s such a bland position. We need a superstar behind the wheel of it.

Fingers crossed.

Like me, you’ve always dreamed of seeing A-listers in charge of our government. We know them. We trust them. Obviously, the rich and famous are well-suited to be public servants. Stars, they’re just like us. For months, I tried to think of a good Director Of Intelligence. Then boom, a bolt of lightning. It came to me. We’re all thinking the same name, right? Because who doesn’t love Britney Spears? In retrospect, our smartest decisions always turn out to be the most obvious. This entire country wants to see her succeed. So, why not show our trust…

By handing her the keys to our nation’s security.

“Let me spread my wings and I will fly.”
-Susan Boyle, American Idol

3 – No new taxes

The dreaded “T-word.” Gross. Yes, taxes suck. Objectively. It’s not exactly a controversial take. But what if I told you I was planning to lower them? Oh, right. Everyone says that. So…

Why don’t I just go ahead and ELIMINATE all of your taxes?

You can go ahead and save the date for my parade. I mean, who needs taxes anyway? Not this guy. And not my America. Sure, you’ll end up paying a bit more than you do now. But I’m officially changing the name to “citizens are awesome” donations.

Way nicer ring to it than “taxes.”

Doesn’t it feel great to be complimented? You are an awesome citizen. And we sure do appreciate your financial contributions. Keep on keepin’ on. By that I mean please work a bit harder because we need more of your money.

But never forget…

We think you’re awesome.

4 – Fix the news confusion

Are you fed up with all the misinformation each day? People trying to trick you. Messing with your beautiful mind. It’s like living in a spider web of confusion. How can someone know what’s fake anymore? Or if anything is still real? Just no way to tell. Your mind stays restless. On high alert.

Until now, that is.

From this day forward, ALL news will be fake. It’s the first thing I’m signing into law. You no longer need to bang your head against the nearest wall to figure out what’s true.

Because nothing will be.

Breathe a giant sigh of relief. Exhale. Your daily confusion is gone. Everything you read or watch will be total baloney. A big, steaming pile of poppycock.    

Except for what I tell you.

Which is always 100% true.

You’re living in the era of TMB. So, just do the T. And I’ll be the M.

Trust me bro.   

5 – Put an end to wars

What’s up with all the fighting? Missiles and bombs everywhere. Day after day. Can’t we all just get along? Yes we can, Rodney.

Yes. We can.

Wouldn’t you love to live in peace? I sure would. And our answer is crystal clear…

We must blow up all the other countries.

How did all of our past administrations drop the ball on this? They totally fumbled the rock. We’ve finally solved our constant fighting. Thanks to a perfect solution. With no other nations, how can there be wars? Quick, hand me a microphone to drop. At long last, you’ll have peace. And, in my second term, maybe we’ll blow up the immigrants too.

(Oh, actually, there won’t be any left)

Best. Prez. Ever.

Small fyi…you’re all needed in the military for this last war. I call it Project Elimination. Might only take a few months to wipe out these other pesky countries. I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. Some of you probably won’t make it out alive. But, hey, thanks for your service.

You’re awesome.

Dear Mom and Dad:

This is quite an occasion. Sure wish you were here. How on earth did I get to my 100^th birthday? An entire century in the books. Been sitting here dreading some big fuss. You know how I am. Thankfully, people nowadays tend to be very busy. Phones and whatnot. There is a beautiful cake here, though. Worth putting the teeth in for.

I really miss you guys.

Wasn’t it just yesterday I hopped off the school bus and into our house? Backpack heavy. Eager to dive face-first into the plate of snacks mom used to make. As if I hadn’t eaten in years. Same level of hunger each afternoon. Guess it takes a lot of fuel to run around like a maniac until sunset.

I still smile at those memories.

Everything ahead.

All of us overflowing with time.

Those days of running have long since come to a close. Not sure I could even remember how to hop. It seems like my finish line is just about here now. Hourglass down to its last few grains of sand. On this occasion, I can’t help but peek back in the rearview…

Was it all sunshine and rainbows? Not really.
Am I the best version of me I could’ve been? No.
Did my childhood dreams come true? Oh goodness, no.  
But do I at least know who I am?

Also no.

At a certain point, we get too old to lie. Even to ourselves. No more energy for that. I think time just got away from me. Weeks disappeared. Then years. Remember my graduation day? From high school? Feels closer to 8 years ago than 8 decades. This tornado of time. Pulling everything into the blur. Do you remember how all my friends would pass around their yearbooks?

They all wrote, “Never Change.”

Pretty much the nicest thing a teenager can say. Imagine if we really had that pause button. So nothing would need to change. Keeping the youth. Our endless energy. That hourglass full of sand.  

I’d still be hopping off the school bus.

Knees and back feeling fine.

We’d sit down for another meal. My old appetite. I’d catch a glimpse of you. Not as a distant memory. But together in a room again. Chatting about nothing in particular. Laughing with ease.

“Never change.”

If only.

Where does it go? A lifetime. Just one blink of the eyes and it’s in the past. Now standing at the finish line. Wishing I could express what you mean to me.  

Do you really know the impact?

I still see you all the time. It’s part of me. Mom’s eyes and dad’s mouth. It’s on my face. And in my heart.

You taught me how to walk.

How to think.  

You live in my sense of humor and wrote my sense of morals.

From the way I cook my eggs,

To my choice of religion.

More than just my strengths, it’s in the weaknesses too. Dad’s struggle to show his feelings. Mom’s temper. Both of you with two left feet.

All of that absorbed. Like a human sponge.  

You brought me into this world.

Then built mine.

It’s harder without you here. This hole inside. But, looking back, I guess I never could let you go. Not for a day. Or even a thought. I hold you so close. Reflected back in my mirror. But did I learn the wrong lesson?

“Never change.”

There it is. My big mistake. Why couldn’t I grasp the depth of love? How that word means so much more. You didn’t need me to think like you. Or be like you. Didn’t even want that. Just lacked the words to say…

“Change.”

There’s no way around it.

Find yourself, not in us.

But in you.

I couldn’t see it. Didn’t get it. Just sitting there for me all along. Your limitations didn’t need to become mine. You didn’t want your box to hold me too. How could you know the power you held? Without a crystal ball to see my future.

Now I’m the one who sees. As clear as day. How hard it is to leave home. Because the physical part is easy. The rest is what takes a lifetime.

I finally understand.

It’s time to step into the light.

But now I’m a hundred years old.

If I concentrate, it’s almost like being back inside the old house.

Scent of fresh-baked cookies floating through the air.

Soundtrack of laughter from the living room.

It really was the best, huh?

Weirdly, never a question we ask ourselves in the moment.

Yup, turns out I pretty much had it all. What more could anyone want? Well, maybe just a pair of clear eyes. To snap all the mental photographs. Because, looking back now, those days were my overflowing cup.

Warm blanket vibes? Check.

Silliness and fun? Absolutely.

House that felt like a home? Big time.  

Strange how we always need to lose something to see it more clearly. Why do we all need that trait? In fairness, it’s possible the “good old days” are just a figment of my imagination. We all romanticize the past. But looking back at it now…

I think maybe I was special.

Yeah, yeah…I know.

Sounds like an arrogant thing to say.  

And, to be clear, I don’t feel the same way now. But, back then? I think maybe I was. Because everyone who came into the house seemed to smile differently when they saw me. All of them. Embarrassing to admit? Sure. But it almost felt like people would gather around me. As if I grabbed their attention. They’d make some comments about my looks and whatnot. The kind of thing we take for granted in our youth. Because it all fades so fast. Somehow…it kind of just felt like I made them happy. Like maybe there was something about me. Oh, and I’ll never forget the flashy ways they helped dress me up. With such care. They made me shine so bright…it almost felt like I was glowing.

Or maybe this is all just my imagination…  

The thing is, it feels so real. Deep down, I know it was. Just gets camouflaged by the fogginess of doubt which comes with age. Our weird justifications. Because I’m torn and tattered now. Trying to convince myself that maybe life was always this hard. As if that will ease the sting of disappointment. Ease the longing.

But here’s reality…

It wasn’t just special. Those days kept getting better and better. So, do I wish that could’ve lasted? Oh yeah. Being adored. It almost started to feel like I was the star of the house. Possibly even the reason for their smiles. Come on…did I really think it would stay that way forever? Doesn’t matter now. Because time moves on. And I guess it was just a season. A glimpse that’s almost too good to be true.

Then it’s gone.

I was surrounded by so many gifts. Lit up so bright that you’d see me twinkling in the dark. Once upon a time.

And now?

Well, it’s colder out here. Feels a bit lonely. Almost starting to think I’ve been discarded. Look, I know all of us are decaying gradually. The thing is…

It doesn’t feel so gradual to me.

Been having a hard time recognizing myself these days.

But let’s not get all mushy here. Because there’s no way to possibly thank you enough for all those moments. I had it better than anyone. You brought me right into your home. Treated me like your most special guest. And it truly was the highlight of my life.

Maybe we can do it again one day?

Love Always,

Your Christmas Tree On The Curb