Thursday, September 10, 2026

The First Time... Ever I Saw Your Face... and Heard Your Jokes

It's pretty cool to see these fresh faces get their shot at the mountaintop. Carson. This is it. 

Nervous. Fidgety. Almost each of them stammers or stumbles at least once. 

And each of these people crushed it.  

You all are in for a treat tonight, and I think you all sound like you're in the right mood for it, because this is a young comedian, this is their first time on the Tonight Show with us, and they're very funny. 

They've come all the way from ____ to be with us, so won't you please give a warm welcome for...
Drew Carey, from Cleveland, OH - 11/8/91

Steven Wright, from Boston, MA - 8/6/82

Garry Shandling, from Tucson, AZ - 3/18/81

Ellen DeGeneres, from Metairie, LA - 11/28/86

Freddie Prinze, from New York, NY - 12/06/73


Wednesday, September 09, 2026

A Good Boi* at Twilight

*Eight times out of ten 

He barks too much. He likes people more than other dogs, but not that many people. He doesn’t go for walks as much as outdoor sniff sessions. He’s a quirky, funny, stubborn little nugget, but he’s our quirky, funny, stubborn little nugget. As he approaches his 17th birthday, he’s slowed considerably and is less steady on his paws. His movements are more deliberate. He doesn’t see or hear as well as he used to. He pees and poops more frequently. He exhibits brief bursts of energy, followed by lengthy stretches in recline – all traits he shares with his hooman dad. 

I decided to write about him while he’s still with us because I’m not sure I’ll be able to after he’s gone. Yeah, I’m gonna be a wreck. 

Truth is, I was skeptical about owning a dog. I like dogs, and plenty of friends had and have dogs that I enjoyed. But I never owned a dog growing up, and working as a newspaper guy, with its long days and odd hours and periodic road trips, didn’t seem to lend itself to the care and feeding of a dog. 

My wife returned from a road trip to visit family and had bonded with a cousin’s dog, a lively little Yorkshire terrier, and said she would like to have a dog again. She grew up with a cocker spaniel she loved and thought the companionship would be a nice addition to our little duo. With some hesitation I said, sure, let’s give it a go. 

We settled on something in the poodle-mix family; my wife has a mild allergy to animal dander, and poodles and their various cross breeds have hair, not fur, so they don’t shed. Several months later, we saw an ad in the paper that a nearby family had a litter of cock-a-poo puppies (cocker spaniel-poodle mix) available. When we visited the family and were wondering how to choose, the guy suggested that I sit on the floor cross-legged near the puppies and see if any of them react. Sure enough, one little fellow about the size of a cornhole bag crawled toward me and climbed into my lap. 

Four weeks later, in early Dec. 2009, we brought Nappy home (brief aside: Nappy was my nickname in high school and college; I had a curly Afro and Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish” was all over the airwaves at the time – “Looking back on when I was a little nappy-headed boy …”; my wife learned of my nickname from friends and insisted our dog be Nappy Jr.). He was an active, bouncy puppy who grew into a 22-pound, crotch-seeking missile. When one of us returned home, he bounded toward us and launched upward so that he collided with our bits, his tail spinning like a helicopter blade. There’s no question that he loves both of us, but very quickly he became “my dog.” 

Almost from day one, he followed me everywhere. I had to change the way I walked around the house when he was little, a kind of shuffle rather than picking up my feet because he was often so close that I frequently clipped him or stepped on him. I do roughly 99.6 percent of the feeding, walking, peeing and pooping duties. He’s disrupted my sleep pattern for years, either by flopping on top of me in bed overnight or mewling at us at 5 or 6 a.m. that he needs to go outside. 

Some quick calculations estimate that I’ve made approximately 43,000 trips outside with him and picked up about 7,750 pounds of poop. Between food, toys and vet bills, my wife jokes that we’ve spent the equivalent of two years of college on him, and he’s no closer to a degree than the day we got him. Sometimes, you just write the checks and don’t think twice. 

I concluded that any shortcomings in his behavior or training were my fault, not his. We’ve never boarded him because he’s our guy and we want him with us and because he seems to have a neurotic streak that caused us to worry that he might gnaw off a paw if he went days without seeing us. We’ve taken only car trips to places with dog-friendly accommodations since we’ve had him. I haven’t been on a plane since the middle of 2009. I wouldn’t change a thing. 

Dogs are a marvel, a blessing. They’re always happy to see us and love us unconditionally. They ask nothing more than belly rubs and ball-playing sessions and car rides with the windows open. Our little fellow is winding down. I can see it, I can feel it. I’ll be a mess when it happens and it will leave a huge hole in my heart, but I’m grateful for every day we had with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, at least one of us has to pee.

Tuesday, September 08, 2026

Emergency Masked Rapper Filler

Lonnnng weekend for your boy. Harrisonburg and back on Friday with our exchange student to check out the Green Valley Book Fair, show her Buc-ee's for the first time (a monument to American excess), and visit James Madison University. Followed that up with a round-trip 12-hour drive to/from Columbus, OH on Saturday and Sunday sandwiched around a fantastic wedding of a friend's daughter (and a mini-summit with Danimal). Topped it off with a cookout with Marls and fam and a few too many beers. Marls might've overserved himself on Johnny Walker Gold, as well.

So you can see why I might've slacked on my content creation duties. Not sure what excuse the rest of you mopes have (The Teej flew to South Korea, so he's good.).

Quick filler it is, then. Tom Hardy is a talented dude, but he often plays to a type. He's also long been a fan of old-school American hip-hop. Turns out his talents go beyond playing a tough guy with a penchant for a quip. 

Hardy recently joined the hip-hop supergroup Czarface (which incudes rap duo 7L & Esoteric and Wu-Tang Clan member Inspectah Deck) on their new album "Czarface Meets Frankie Pulitzer". In this case, Hardy and Frankie Pulitzer are one and the same.

Hip-hop heads will have a more informed opinion than I, but to me, this sounds like credible flow that takes us back a couple of decades, stylistically. Hardy/Pulitzer is the dude in the mask. Enjoy, and let me know if I've got it right.

Friday, September 04, 2026

Lewis Hamilton knows where all the coolest barns are

Lewis Hamilton is perhaps the greatest Formula 1 driver ever.  His list of racing achievements is preposterously impressive.  After repping Mercedes for 19 years, he moved to Ferrari in 2025, giving him access to preposterously impressive cars.  And it appears that he knows where all the most preposterously impressive barns are.

Hamilton recently posted his barn find Ferrari F40 on Instagram and I almost passed out.  Much like the street-parked F40 I wrote about previously, there should be no such thing as a barn find F40.  But this guy found one.  And he has access to all the finest mechanics at Maranello to restore it.  Officine Classiche y'all!


I'm jealous on many levels.  But I can't hate!  Look at how much he loves the car, you can practically see him morph into a 10-year-old as he looks at it, sits in it, rubs the badge.  He's in love.


Call me if you know a barn with something even half this fantastic stored in it.

Monday, August 31, 2026

Food is Dumb. Or Is It?

We've seen some things around here, my friends, gustatorially speaking. We've eaten the KFC Double Down. We've chowed our way around multiple state fairs. We've tried (and enjoyed) pizza-flavored vodka.

The G:TB Taste Team has been handed another challenge, should we choose to accept it. 

Pringles are great, though not part of my regular rotation these days. Don't eat a lot of chips of any provenance, really. And I do love a dill pickle - I eat at least one a day. I can take or leave vodka.

All of which makes me mildly curious about Sugarlands Distilling's new Pringles Dill Pickle Potato Vodka.

Here's the product description from InternetWines.com, where you can purchase a 750 mL bottle for $21.99 (or could, before it sold out):

"Sugarlands Distilling took the briny bite of Pringles Dill Pickle Potato Crisps and turned it into a spirit that's tart, savory, and unapologetically bold. Think sharp vinegar, crisp dill, and a salty potato twist all in a pour that packs a serious punch.

Pop the top, pour a shot and let the flavor speak for itself. Perfect for picklebacks, martinis, or any cocktail that needs a little snap. Embrace the brine."

I can see the concept here. Little brininess adds something to a lot of different drinks. Color me curious.

Saturday, August 29, 2026

An Argument for and Against AI

Over the past several years, I've worked in two businesses that leverage AI in one form or another to solve customer challenges. I'm keenly interested in the debate over the technology's utility, impact, and future, and I'm more informed than most on the topic. Some people that think AI is a technological panacea that'll usher the species into a lasting era of bliss. Others believe AI will be cause the end of humanity. And at the moment, it's wildly overhyped by people who have an vested interest in the technology's success, which is a real problem.

The truth, as is so often the case, lies in the middle. AI is a tool. It can be very useful. It can also lead to some very mediocre if not downright stupid outcomes. 

Case in point, the rest of this blog, in which I'll illustrate the useful and the mid over the course of one recent interaction with Claude.

I was curious about whether I could use AI to help plan a road trip. In this case, a month-long tour of the country centered around seeing musicians I like in smallish venues in smallish cities/towns. I started my exploration by offering Claude the following prompt:

"i am a big fan of singer-songerwriter musical acts, like rhett miller, andrew duhon, jeff tweedy, jay farrar, cat power, carbon leaf, brandi carlile, tyler childers, noah kahan, waxahatchee, avett brothers, haim, etc. i'd like to take the month of november and tour the united states and listen to live music."

please create an itinerary for my that starts and ends in northern virginia that allows me to see artists live in mid-sized or small cities across america. make sure i spend at least two nights in each location and get to see at least one live performance. the venues should be small to mid-sized, as well."

It took me four or five iterations and refinements to get to an itinerary that I liked. After I'd reached that point, I asked Claude to, "synopsize this entire series of prompts and responses as a blog post, using the tone of voice of gheorghe: the blog (https://gheorghe77.blogspot.com/). make the itinerary the last thing in the post."

What follows is Claude/Gheorghe's response - my reactions will follow in italics:

So I've got this problem, and the problem is that I like exactly one genre of music with the burning intensity of a thousand suns, and that genre is "sad and/or earnest people with acoustic guitars," and the sub-problem is that the specific practitioners of this genre I love most — your Rhett Millers, your Tyler Childerses, your Waxahatchees, your Carbon Leafs (Leaves? the Carbon Leaf discography?) — do not, as a rule, play the Xfinity Center. They play rooms that hold four hundred people and smell vaguely like spilled Yuengling. Which is exactly how I like it, but it does mean that "catching a show" requires actual research, unlike, say, Taylor Swift, whose tour schedule you could find by asking a golden retriever.

Okay, so this is...decent. Not sure why Claude thinks I only like one genre of music. The voice is an amalgamation of Gheorghies. I definitely spy some OBX Daveish stylings in the mix.

Naturally, since I am both lazy and a person living in the Year of Our Lord 2026, I asked an AI to plan me a month-long, coast-spanning music pilgrimage instead of doing it myself like some kind of caveman with a road atlas. What followed was four entire drafts of a road trip, escalating in ambition and geographic absurdity, and I feel like you should get to enjoy the ride too, because honestly it was a journey (pun very much intended, I regret nothing).

Again, solid. A little try-hard, if I'm being honest. I hope we don't sound like that.

**Round one: November, start/end in Northern Virginia.** Reasonable ask, I thought. Big loop through Richmond, Asheville, Athens, Nashville, New Orleans, Austin, Memphis, Louisville, Knoxville, back home. Charming. Comprehensive. Almost entirely make-believe, as it turned out, because — and this is a very "living in the future" kind of problem to have — none of my guys had actually announced November tour dates yet. Not one. The robot did its diligence, came back, and basically said "I built you a lovely map of vibes but the actual bands part is aspirational." Respect for the honesty, mild personal humiliation for me.

The quotations around things that don't require quotations are starting to pile up. Some em dashes in there, but that's actually on brand.

**Round two: same request, but October instead**, because October is closer and therefore bands might have gotten around to telling anyone where they're playing. This is where things got good. Turns out Jason Isbell is doing a three-night stand at the Ryman. Turns out Old Crow Medicine Show is rolling through small-town Pennsylvania. Turns out Jeff Tweedy is doing a solo lap through Ohio with his kid's band opening. Carbon Leaf — a Virginia band, mind you — is out in Kansas City and Chicago being Virginian at people. Real dates. Real, bookable, small-venue shows. I felt like a guy who'd been handed an actual treasure map instead of a napkin drawing.

"Real dates. Real, bookable, small-venue shows." is an AI tell - one of the first in the text thus far.

**Round three: forget the loop, start on the West Coast and work back home.** This is where the trip stopped being "a nice drive" and started being "a bit."  It turned out Iron & Wine — not on my original list, but close enough in spirit that I'm retroactively adopting him — is doing a whole honest-to-god coast-to-coast October tour, Seattle to South Carolina, and I basically hitched my itinerary to his tour bus like a barnacle. Which was efficient! It was also, in retrospect, a little much — I looked at the finished draft and realized I'd built a road trip that was 70% one guy's calendar. Bold move for a project explicitly premised on my loving lots of different artists.

The analysis part of this segment was pretty dumb, if we're being honest. And again with the extraneous quotations.

**Round four, the correction: no more than two shows per artist, please.** This is the "actually think about what you're doing" round, and it's the one that stuck. Rebuilt the whole thing with real variety — Carbon Leaf, Andrew Duhon, Iron & Wine, Shovels & Rope — capped at two apiece, no single act allowed to hog the whole trip like it's their solo project. There were still a couple of honest gaps (sorry, Asheville) where nobody's calendar cooperated.

Fine. No complaints.

**Round five: "I'll fly for anything over 400 miles," I said,** like some kind of aristocrat, and this single sentence fixed everything. Suddenly the Isbell/Ryman residency — previously geographically impossible without a week of pure interstate suffering — fit right into the middle of the trip. Memphis, which had been sitting there as a sad empty stop with no band attached, got adopted by an Iron & Wine date that the flights made reachable. Turns out the solution to "my itinerary doesn't make sense" was, the whole time, "money," which, yeah, tracks.

So here's where we landed. Five artists, capped at two shows each, three flights for the genuinely brutal legs, and a route that goes from a Virginia band playing a Seattle dive bar clear across the country back to actual Virginia. I did not confirm any of this personally, so don't yell at me if Carbon Leaf cancels — yell at the robot, or better yet, yell at Ticketmaster, the true villain in every version of this story.

Closing stronger that we opened, for sure.

---

Five artists, no repeats beyond two apiece, one month, roughly forty thousand emotional dollars in gas and airfare. Wager accordingly.

The last bit doesn't make a ton of sense. Forty thousand should be a number, not text. I don't know what emotional dollars are. Meh.

To sum up, I think the final product - the itinerary - is quite good, and something that would've taken me or any other human a long, frustrating time. That's a good use of the technology. The writing is okay, and if you weren't picky about your words, you might be okay with it. That's lame if you're looking for a shortcut for a term paper or a training manual, and it's dangerous - at least professionally - if you're putting together a legal brief or an op-ed. Or targeting attacks on Iranian schools.

I happen to be picky about my words, as I suspect most of us are, so this isn't good enough for me. It lacks a bit of heart, even as Claude tried to emulate our tone. And there are bits of off-sounding language that sours the whole thing for me as a reader. In the end, I think AI's ability to fake human writing is a technological marvel, but it's not nearly the most interesting nor I think enduring capability AI has. That comes from its ability to synthesize and make sense of massive amounts of information, draw inferences, and generate logical data quickly, and reasonably accurately. 

Frankly, that's good enough to be really compelling. Shame the foofs that have a stake in AI's success can't just focus on that instead of moonshot claims about rendering human work redundant.

Thursday, August 27, 2026

The Best of Us

There are a million different things we could say about Dolly Parton. We could emphasize her kindness, her humanitarian efforts (she fucking helped fund the development of the Moderna COVID vaccine!*), her authenticity, her acting, her self-awareness, her loyalty to her husband and her roots, her genuine affection, her ability to laugh at herself and with others, her damn near singular manner of embracing her sexuality on her terms and not the culture's - especially given the era she came to prominence in, her songwriting, her...all of it. Absolutely one of a kind, and the universal outpouring of love for her in the wake of her passing will not be matched in my lifetime.

(* Apologies for cursing, ma'am.)

And there are a million different pieces that have and will be written about the indelible mark she left on our world. I'd rather spend time reading those than trying to find a new angle. 

One of the most interesting things I've seen since she left us this week is directly connected to the thing we knew her for first. The number and diversity of the artists that have honored her with their live performances over the past few days is remarkable. She touched performers from Eminem to Brandi Carlile and so many beyond that, famous and not. Here are just a very few of the musicians that made time to remember one of one:

I mean, Pitbull loved Dolly!


Jack White's been performing Jolene for years. Here he was the night after she passed.

The everlovin' Bands of His Majesty's Royal Marines, for goodness' sake.

The Avett Brothers were probably a good bet.

@avettbros The Avett Brothers perform a mashup of Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You” and “Pretty Girl from Annapolis” at their show last night. 🦋 #dollyparton #dolly #avettbrothers #livemusic #cover ♬ original sound - The Avett Brothers

But I don't that anyone other than Dooger would've guess Amyl and the Sniffers loved her.