Bryce Moore's Blog, page 12

Scotland Recommendation: The Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo Festival

I know what it sounds like. It sounds like you’re going to go to a big convention hall and check out tattoos all afternoon. But remember, this is Scotland, and they roll a bit differently there. The “tattoo” you’re thinking about comes from the Samoan word ta-tau. The “tattoo” they’re thinking about comes from the Dutch word taptoel. It’s a coinkydink that they’re the same word now.

So in this case, the Tattoo Festival means a huge gathering of military bands from across the globe, with a heavy emphasis on bagpipes and drums. I’d heard from a friend that it’s really worth your while to check it out, since it happens every August in Edinburgh. They erect a stadium in front of the castle, and each evening they put on an enormous show. We bought tickets months ago, and I’m glad we did, as they are far from inexpensive, and so many people are in Edinburgh then that it’s quite possible they sell out.

We bought the cheapest ones they had, which cost about $50/seat. They’re in the corner of the stadium right by the castle, and they have the worst view in theory. In practice, the views generally didn’t matter too much, though I’m sure things would have looked even more splendid if we’d bought the $300/seat tickets that were dead center. Worth an additional $1000 for a family of four? I would say no, but I guess that’s a personal choice.

It really was stupendous. It starts out with about 250 pipers marching into the stadium out of smoke at the castle gates. Now, I’m not typically a big fan of bagpipes. I can take them in small quantities, but I generally think they sound like something that ought to be put out of its misery. However, this was an entirely different experience. For one thing, they were actually all very good. In tune, in time, and in mass quantities. Good enough that I tried to listen to bagpipe music on Apple Music later to see if they’re all that good. (They aren’t.) Seeing them all march in was a highlight of my trip. (Though mind you, it wouldn’t take much to stand out on this trip, as I said yesterday.)

From there, a bunch of other performers come on. American military bands and drill teams. Bands from India. A Scottish rave band (which was not a favorite). You name it. It all went on for about 2 hours, and finished with fireworks and every single performer out on the grounds at once.

If you’re going to be in Edinburgh in August, I will echo the recommendation that was given to me. I would consider this one a must see.

Back from Scotland, Minus One Appendix

Well, I’m back. Feeling more like Bilbo Baggins at the end of the Hobbit than I’d like, especially since I didn’t come home with a chest full of dragon loot. No, if you weren’t following along with the saga on Facebook, I didn’t really come home with anything. Instead, I left my appendix in Glasgow. I’m not generally the sort of person who goes around being quite that forgetful, so maybe I should bring you up to speed.

The goal of this Scottish trip was straightforward. I was going to present at Worldcon, and while I was at it, I was going to get in a fun family tour around the country. I’ve done multiple trips to Europe. There was no reason this one should have been any different, and yet it was.

Right off the bat.

If you know me much, you’ll know I’m generally an over planner. I like to know exactly what I’m going to do, and when. This is double true on vacations. I make a packing list well in advance, I get to the airport three hours early, and I do everything I can to make sure everything goes according to schedule. But this time around, things were different right from the beginning. Three days before we were supposed to go, I came down with a stomach ache. The reason seemed obvious: I had eaten an entire large Domino’s pizza, all at once. (Why would I do something like that? Because I was hungry, and I’m a bit of an idiot.) I felt poorly right after I’d done it, and that poor feeling didn’t really go away. It got worse.

I kept assuming I’d just overeaten and really given myself a bad case of indigestion. I dragged myself through the next few days, doing my best to make sure no one knew how bad I was feeling. I didn’t pack. Didn’t get ready. I just didn’t feel well. Sunday (the day we were to leave), I was a wreck. My stomach was still really hurting, and I didn’t seem to be thinking well. Again, there was a reason for this: I hate flying, and I’m usually a bundle of nerves before I go on a plane. So in my head, this was just a combo of too much pizza and too many nerves. I finally managed to force myself to pack, and we got underway later than I’d have liked.

Late enough that we missed the bus I’d planned on taking. (I don’t miss buses.) But we got on one that should have gotten us to the airport 15 minutes later. That would still leave us with two and a half hours at the airport.

Except there was terrible traffic. Two hours of traffic. We got to the airport with a half hour to go. My stomach was still killing. We rushed through security, and I ran all the way to the gate (which was naturally at the very far end of the terminal). They opened the doors for me, having just begun to shut them. But Denisa and the girls hadn’t caught up yet, and by the time they did, Delta had given up and just shut the doors. That was brutal.

I wanted to throw in the towel. I felt awful, but I also didn’t want to let the family down like that. So after a brief conference with the fam, I bought new tickets that would get us to Glasgow just two hours later. My stomach didn’t feel any better, but whatever. We flew from Boston to Dublin to Glasgow, and I was just icky the whole time. It would be okay, I thought. I’d get to the hotel, sleep some, and everything would be better.

Well, we got to the hotel, and I waited in the lobby until I could check in. And I did, indeed, sleep some. 45 minutes until I woke up in even more pain. It was at this point that Denisa and Daniela found me. Daniela opined that I should probably go to the hospital, but I was having none of it. This was bad pizza and bad nerves. Nothing more. After some arguing, she upped the ante and pretty much told me I was going to the hospital. I caved. Denisa got a taxi, and off we went to the Glasgow Royal Infirmary.

After two hours of waiting (feeling worse and worse), the doctors were pretty sure it was just a bad stomach ache. They were going to release me with some pain killers and all would be right with the world. They just wanted to run it by one of their specialists before giving me the green light. But when the specialist saw my blood tests, they said I should probably stay for observation. That was after four hours at the hospital. 8pm, they told me they were going to admit me. 2am, they said they actually thought I needed a CT scan ASAP, so they rushed me in for one. 5am, they told me it was definitely appendicitis, and it was bad enough that I’d need surgery right away. That happened an hour later.

From what I heard after the fact, things were pretty bad in my insides. Bad enough that the infection was all over the place. Bad enough that they needed to keep me for probably one more night. Then another. Then another. I was eventually let out of the hospital after five days of being there. (Went in Monday, came out Friday.) The Scottish doctors and nurses were all very kind (though the food . . . yikes), but it was a difficult stretch of time for me. Denisa and the girls were in limbo, visiting me some, but always being told I was about to be released. I insisted they go out and have a good time, but it was not great for me to be in that hospital by myself for so long. (Well, not totally by myself. I was in a room with three octogenarians who were very kind, as well. But I was most definitely Not Alone.)

I figured I’d get let out of the hospital, and I’d still be able to salvage some of the vacation. Yes, I’d have missed the Isle of Skye and Inverness, but there was still Worldcon, Edinburgh, and Sterling. This could all still work. Maybe it could have, except I was still very much not recovered. I was low on energy, and I’d just undergone surgery. I ended up canceling Worldcon, and I picked one or two things each day that I could do, spending the rest of every day in bed. I did have some fun experiences that I’ll try to blog about in the next few days, but by and large, this was easily the worst “vacation” I’ve ever had.

Now that I’m home (got in last night), I’m discovering just how weak and not great I still am. That day of travel totally wiped me out. I do think I’m improving and getting stronger, but it’s going to take some time.

The moral of the story, should you be looking for one, is “Don’t get on an airplane if you feel rotten.” The trick, of course, is that at no point in time did I think I was making a bad decision. There was a reason my stomach felt awful, and that reason was Domino’s pizza. (Sorry, Domino’s.) In reality, I think I was not thinking well at all from Friday morning on. That makes sense, as I was suffering from appendicitis and a growing infection inside me. When your brain isn’t braining, it’s hard to make good choices.

In any case, it’s done now. I’m home, and I’m very grateful to be here. Yes, it cost money. (No idea how much yet. My insurance will fill me in on the details eventually.) But things could have gone worse, believe it or not. People die from appendicitis. Flying with it isn’t something doctors recommend (go figure). I’ve gone over some of the things that might have happened, and I’m very glad they didn’t. Do I wish I’d just stayed home? Definitely. But I got through it, and I’m not dead, so I’ll take that as a win.

However, note that when “At least I didn’t die” becomes the measuring stick for your European vacation, you might want to consider the fact that it wasn’t a very good vacation . . .

Thanks to all of you and your kind words while I was in the hospital and away. They were all much appreciated.

Off to Scotland

A heads up that I’m heading off to Scotland on Sunday, so the blog posts are going to be . . . non-existent while I’m gone. What am I going to be up to? Some of it is business: it’s the World Science Fiction Convention in Glasgow next weekend. The rest of it will be exploring Scotland. We’re going to Glasgow, the Isle of Skye, Inverness, Edinburgh, and Sterling. We’re getting a car for some of the time, so I’ll also have the adventure of driving on the other side of the road. I’ve never been to Scotland at all, so I’m looking forward to the experience.

So what will I be presenting on in Glasgow? I’m at two different panels. The first is Saturday, August 10th, at 11:30am, and it’s focused on Making a Living from Children’s and YA Fiction. Then on Monday, August 12th, I’m moderating a panel on the Industry of Children’s and YA Literature at 10am. I’ll be at the conference Saturday and Sunday and then part of Monday, and if you happen to be planning to be there, let me know.

In any case, sorry in advance for the absence . . . but not that sorry. Have a great few weeks, and if you want to follow the adventures, I’ll be posting pics over on Facebook.

A Thousand TikTokkers

Big news on the cat front today, as our Maine Cat Lab channel finally crossed the 1,000 follower mark on TikTok. This means we can finally post a link to our website on our About page for TikTok. Why is that a big deal? Because it means we can easily run some more cat studies. (I mean, what’s the point in having a cat study unless it enables you to have even more of them? Kind of like cats, it seems . . .)

(For those of you who missed it, a colleague/friend and I have been working on a study of the personality of cats. Why? Because they are there. Just wait until the book comes out.)

When we did our first study, we were limited by the constraints of social media. Yes, we could get the word out on Facebook, but unless you’re willing to pay real money, Facebook has a tendency to start to throttle how many people see your posts. TikTok is more liberal with all of that, but all we could do over there was tell people to go to a certain link, as opposed to just giving them the link. (Kind of like the difference between telling your friends they really ought to see something, but not actually letting them see it, and just putting the thing in front of them.)

Now that we have 1,000 followers and can post that link, we both have a built-in audience to help get the word out, and we have a much easier way of making sure that word is heard. (Hey–that might not make sense to you, but it definitely makes sense to me, and that’s what really matters, right?)

Of course, it’s one thing to be able to post a link, and quite another thing to have a link to post . . . I mean, we can link to our website, but we don’t as of yet have a website to link to.

These are first world problems, people.

It’s a good thing I’ve got a bit of web design experience. I don’t think we’re going to shoot for the moon in terms of what we’ve got there at first. I’d like to start with something reasonable and then work our way up from there. The essentials I can picture are a place to post surveys and results, post videos from YouTube, tell who we are and what we’re doing, and . . . that’s about it.

Baby steps, but I’m really pleased to have hit this milestone. Our YouTube channel is up to 66 subscribers, so . . . still a ways to go there. But success breeds success.

Kind of like . . . cats?

An Olympic Ceremony Party: 2024 Edition

Hey! The Olympics are back! Long time readers know that I’m a big fan, and that I watch pretty much everything I can, so I was excited to have the Opening Ceremonies on last Friday. I’d thought about doing a viewing party, but we’ve been so busy that I ended up deciding just a family affair would be the way to go. But how in the world could I make it a party that felt . . . party-esque?

After talking it over with Denisa some, we decided we’d go the multicultural route, doing some different foods that we could all snack on over the course of the evening. The only problem? We live in a very less-than-multicultural part of the nation. I mean, I could have gotten Chinese takeout, or Thai food. Or . . . the options weren’t great, and even then, just having one different kind of cuisine doesn’t really feel party-esque.

So instead, we went with what I’ll call the “budget international option.” I went to the grocery store on the way home and basically wandered the aisles, looking for anything that could be spun as an international food. Greek yogurt? You betcha. Pitas and hummus? Sure thing. Fortune cookies, ramen, pretzels, macaroons, dates, shortbread, french bread, garlic bread, soft cheese, and more. Did I get too much? Definitely. Was it a hit with the girls? You bet.

It didn’t hurt that I got ice cream sundae toppings with M&Ms, because they’re pretty much the right color for the Olympic rings. Everything’s better with ice cream.

The ceremony itself was . . . very bizarre. Let’s go with “memorable,” or maybe “very French.” I don’t think that Lady Gaga song will ever get out of my head (and not in a good way), and seeing a choir of decapitated Marie Antoinette’s singing along with heavy metal is a new bar.

Whatever. We had a good time. Denisa and Daniela are off at Young Women’s camp now, so it’s just MC and I holding down the fort. Good thing there’s plenty of sports to choose from. Yesterday we checked out fencing and archery.

Happy watching, everyone!

Which was Bryce and Which was BryceGPT? Round Three Answers

Look at this! I finally have time to report back on the third round of my “who wrote it” contest. was focused on Trump nicknames, and this time, I wrote one version, and I had BryceGPT write the other. Only a few people voted, because I guess people are scared of getting it wrong? But the final tally was 3 votes for the first post, and 1 vote for the second.

I wrote the first, so the majority got it right again. However, as one friend pointed out, the AI post was almost perfectly passable. If I were turning to AI and then going back and tweaking it a little here and a little there? I don’t think people would be able to tell the difference. Here’s the prompt I used this time:

BEGIN PROMPT

Write a humorous, critical blog post (around 500 words long) about Donald Trump’s propensity to assign nicknames to people he doesn’t like, inspired by his decision this morning to dub Kamala Harris “Lyin’ Kamala” as soon as Biden dropped out of the race and Harris seemed to be the next candidate. Include a list of them, and then be tongue-in-cheek as you analyze why he thinks this is a good idea, strongly implying that it’s actually childish and inane. Keep the writing snappy. Invite readers to come up with their own Trump nickname for themselves, and list what my (negative) nickname might be. Make sure they use -in’ endings for at least some of them. Don’t use section headings.

END PROMPT

In full disclosure, this was the 7th version of the prompt I tried, as I kept refining it to get me more of what I wanted. And this was the fourth “attempt” I had BryceGPT make at that prompt. The first three just didn’t feel quite right to me. This was the best one. But again, I really don’t think that’s to be held against it too much. If you’re using GPT, you’re better served really working at that prompt, and anyone can do that.

How big of an impact is BryceGPT having? What would it read like with the standard, out-of-the-box ChatGPT? Here’s the response generated by 4o:

START

In the ever-spinning carousel of political theater, Donald Trump has once again demonstrated his flair for the absurd by bestowing a fresh nickname upon Kamala Harris: “Lyin’ Kamala.” This latest moniker comes hot on the heels of Joe Biden’s unexpected exit from the presidential race, positioning Harris as the frontrunner and thereby the newest target of Trump’s peculiar brand of name-calling.

Now, we must admit, Trump’s knack for slapping nicknames on his adversaries is nothing short of prolific. His greatest hits include “Crooked Hillary,” “Sleepy Joe,” “Little Marco,” “Lyin’ Ted,” and “Crazy Bernie.” It’s almost as if he’s running a twisted kindergarten roll call rather than a political campaign. While these nicknames might evoke a chuckle or two, one can’t help but wonder if Trump believes he’s harnessing the rhetorical skills of Shakespearean caliber. Spoiler alert: he’s not.

What’s the deal with these nicknames anyway? Is it a brilliant strategic maneuver to diminish his opponents in the eyes of the public? Or is it merely the manifestation of a schoolyard bully’s mentality, refined over decades of unchecked egotism and reality TV showmanship? Let’s lean toward the latter, shall we?

For Trump, nicknaming seems to serve multiple purposes. First, it simplifies complex political personas into easily digestible caricatures. After all, who has time to delve into policy nuances when “Lyin’ Ted” and “Pocahontas” can do all the heavy lifting? It’s a verbal fast food, offering instant, if not hollow, gratification.

Second, it plays to his base’s penchant for plain-speaking and anti-elitism. In a world where political correctness can sometimes feel suffocating, there’s a certain allure in someone who throws caution and decorum to the wind. Yet, while Trump’s supporters may find his nicknames refreshingly direct, the rest of us are left cringing at the sheer juvenility of it all.

Third, and perhaps most importantly, it deflects from Trump’s own flaws. By highlighting supposed deficiencies in others, he distracts from his own litany of shortcomings. It’s classic misdirection, like a magician drawing your attention to his left hand while his right hand stuffs the rabbit into the hat.

Yet, let’s not give Trump too much credit here. Despite the veneer of strategy, these nicknames often come across as the desperate flailings of someone who never quite graduated from the playground. It’s political dialogue distilled to its basest form, where insults replace insights and mockery trumps (pun intended) meaningful debate.

Now, dear readers, I challenge you to engage in this farcical tradition. What would your Trump nickname be? Remember, the rules are simple: keep it derogatory and, when possible, end it with an -in’. Here are some starter ideas:

For the tech-averse among you: “Tech-phob-in’ Tammy” For those who can’t stop taking selfies: “Selfie-addictin’ Sam” For the bookworms: “Book-readin’ Becky”

As for what my nickname might be? Let’s see… how about “Overthinkin’ Oracle?” Not bad, right? Though I’m sure Trump himself could come up with something even more puerile.

So, step right up and join the game. Create your own Trump nickname and revel in the sheer absurdity of it all. After all, if we can’t laugh at the ridiculousness of our political landscape, what’s left but to cry?

END

I may be biased, but I think that one’s significantly worse. It’s got some stabs at humor, but it doesn’t have much life to the prose, and its word choice is really wonky at times.

In any case, I’m not done with this yet. Stay tuned as the saga continues to unfold . . .

The Place of the MAGA Movement in American History

I came across this article today, a detailed account of a man whose family were ardent Nazis. His father was a Gestapo head officer and personally committed documented war crimes. It’s a must read, as far as I’m concerned.

We need to realize Nazis weren’t all Indiana Jones villains hell-bent on pure evil. If you had lived in Germany in the late 1930s, I’m not sure you’d see much difference between the political climate there and the climate across so much of western civilization today. The Holocaust hadn’t begun, but the finger for all of society’s ills was pointed straight at minorities. Jews. Slavs. Roma. LGBT. The rhetoric used then could be swapped out with the rhetoric Trump, Putin, and other far right leaders are spouting off.

The people who went along with Hitler were, by and large, the same as those who eagerly jump aboard the MAGA train. I am not saying they’re evil. All Nazis weren’t evil. But the effect they had on the world was undeniably wicked. The problem is, the popular belief is that all Nazis were absolute demons. So a MAGA supporter who’s parroting back “facts” about how awful immigrants are, and how our country’s being poisoned by them, feels safe in thinking they’re nowhere near what a Nazi would be like, since they don’t view themselves anywhere like a demon.

Yes, there were the extreme supporters then, just as there are extreme supporters now, wearing masks and carrying torches and waving swastika banners. But Hitler didn’t do what he did by having the simple support of those extremists. He did what he did by having the support of the majority of the nation. Not to have them go staff the concentration camps, but to turn a blind eye when their neighbors were whisked away. To agree that it was all for the greater good.

There are so many mirrors to what’s happening now and what happened then. Nazi supporters held a rally in Madison Square Gardens in 1939. Over 20,000 people showed up to support it. Other protested from outside. Life is never about the good guys vs. the bad guys. Each of us has good and bad inside of, though the balance is more out of whack in some than in others. I love Germany. I love the people there. I stayed there for two years and met and talked with so many of them, including many who would have been in their prime during World War II. None of them seemed “evil.”

I didn’t ask any of them which side they were on back then.

If you’re against elements of the Democrat platform, that is perfectly fine. You’re allowed to have strongly held beliefs about the sanctity of life, the need for the Second Amendment, the importance of traditional family values, or a preference for a smaller government. I may disagree with you on some things, and we might get in a long argument about where the line should be drawn between personal beliefs and government-enforced mandates. (Ironically, there will probably be some areas where I’m on one side of that argument and you’re on the other side, and then other areas where our “sides” are reversed.)

Politics is politics. Donald Trump is anything but politics. You can’t embrace him or use him as a tool to accomplish the things you want to have happen. You can’t view him as a net gain, so you hold your nose and turn a blind eye to the things he says or does that you disagree with. And mind you: it’s not just Donald Trump. At this point, the MAGA movement he leads is becoming stronger and bolder. Republican leaders are actively abandoning earlier views of the nature of Trump to instead embrace him and his followers.

Don’t even get me started on Project 2025. Vance wrote the foreword to the new book coming out from the founder of the movement.

Even as I’m writing this, I again question what the use of it is. I’m not sure I’ve ever convinced even a single Trump voter to turn away from their decision. I would love to start seeing posts of people who had voted for him but have since changed their minds. Instead, I see his support only grow. Of particular concern are polls that show 70% of Black voters have an unfavorable view of him, and 50% of Hispanic voters. Compare that to the 2020 election, where 92% of Black voters and 62% of Hispanic voters didn’t support him. In other words, he’s gained 22% and 12%, respectively, with those two groups. When 2020 was so close, those kinds of numbers can have a huge impact.

Anyway. That’s all I’ve got in me today. I read that article I first posted, and it made me think once again of just what sort of situation we face today. I hope more people can see that, so that we might avert the troubles that may arise from it.

Did God Save Trump?

We interrupt our regularly scheduled Bryce vs. BryceGPT programming to bring you this article that’s definitely written by me. (Which actually brings up a point about blogging and AI in general: one of the reasons I like to blog is that by writing these posts, I think through issues and reach conclusions that are only tenuous up until the point I’ve actually written them. They’re a way for me to process information, and if I offload that to AI, then . . . why should I bother? In any case, on with the post.)

I’ve seen the “God saved Trump” rhetoric swirling around the former president in the wake of the attempted assassination, and it’s been something that’s really made me think through things from a religious perspective that I haven’t necessarily framed in that way before. Honestly, it’s been a bit of a struggle.

On the one hand, there’s the fact that God is all powerful. Anything He wants to do, He can do. However, theologically speaking, I believe He restrains Himself in certain ways for a variety of reasons. For example, he could go around killing people left and right, but that’s an evil thing to do, and so He doesn’t do that. Similarly, He doesn’t lie, cheat, steal, etc. In other words, I believe the things He asks us to do are things that He does Himself.

The question thus becomes, was that bullet going to kill Trump, and did God intervene to save his life? Or seen in a different light, God certainly could have altered the trajectory of the bullet and had Trump die, and chose not to. (Though let’s be honest: God could cause Trump to keel over for any number of reasons at any point in time.) Then again, if you believe God chose to save Trump, why in the world did He chose to let the firefighter die? The argument being used by Trump supporters is that Trump is so important, God intervened, so Trump can still do the work he has left to do on the world.

Up until now, if you’d asked me what I believe, I would have said I believe God only intervenes in very limited cases, where the effect on the world would be so enormous that He has to step in to keep things from completely imploding. That was a fairly surface level opinion, though, and I’d never delved too deeply into the concepts behind it. For example, why didn’t God intervene to have Hitler die, thus saving millions of Jews? What about Stalin? Osama Bin Laden? If God can smite people dead, why doesn’t He cherrypick the worst ones and leave the rest of us better off?

The flip side of that is that if God saves people, why in the world does He let so many people die of horrible causes? If cancer can be healed, why not just heal it for everyone? Why would God heal one person and not another?

Is the answer that God never intervenes at all? That He set up the world, sent us into it, gave us all the freedom to choose what we want to do, and then sits back and lets it all play out? Is it one of the fundamental restraints He choose to live by? The evils we do to each other are thus our fault, and not God’s.

Except, if that’s the case, then why do we bother to pray for help at all? Why ask for protection or blessings, if God won’t intervene to protect or to bless?

Here’s where things move beyond the theoretical for me, because I actually have real experience with prayer. Enough that I believe 100% that it can and does accomplish things. I’ve seen it happen firsthand in my life, and so it’s not really a question for me. I’ve received inspiration to do things I would not have done, to not do things I was fully intent on doing, and I’ve had experiences were events changed based on prayers. If I believe that, then I have to conclude that God can and does intervene. Not always, and not always in ways we expect, but definitely at times.

So how do I line up those two contrasting thoughts? As I’ve worked it over in my head, the biggest conclusion is that I don’t understand the complete picture. God’s ways are not our ways, we’re told, and that makes sense. I’m not omniscient. All I’ve got is four decades or so of experience to draw upon, and even those four decades are limited by where I’ve lived and whom I’ve interacted with. So it stands to reason that there will be things that God has happen (or allows to happen) that make absolutely no sense to me.

But maybe, from an eternal point of view, the struggles we face in this life really pale in comparison to the ultimate impact they have on us in the time after we die. To try and put this in terms I can actually explain, I’ll use Minecraft. Let’s say I’m playing a game of Minecraft. I’ve been playing it for . . . four decades. And something happens in that game that feels completely, utterly, unfair. Maybe they run an update that ruins everything I’d been creating. Maybe I get stuck in an underground river I didn’t see and end up drowning to death (true story). I am absolutely crushed by losing all my work. If Minecraft is really all that matters, then all of it could feel completely unjust.

Except I know Minecraft is just a game, and that the things I do in that game can have an effect on me in reality. I’ve played with my kids and developed good relationships with them. My kids have had friendships ruined through actions that happened in Minecraft. (Why in the world do people burn down other people’s houses?) Ultimately, the things I take away from Minecraft are the things that matter, and not the actual world of Minecraft itself.

I believe this life is a test. I believe our spirits continue to live after we die, and that we get new bodies eventually. The only things we take with us from this life are our experiences and our relationships. Everyone is born. Everyone dies. What’s the difference between this life and a super advanced VR environment like the Matrix? Honestly, I don’t see much of one (except that I believe this one is being run by God, not spider-looking robots, and that it’s for our benefit, not God’s.)

With that in mind, all I know for sure is that only July 13, 2024, Trump’s test wasn’t over, and the firefighter’s test was. Trump hasn’t had the chance he needs to learn (or fail to learn) everything he needs to be given a chance to learn or do in this test. After the attempt on his life, what if he’d emerged a kinder, gentler man? One with the understanding of just how fleeting this life can be, and who thus began to be more forgiving and generous to others? I’m not saying that actually happened, but was there a chance?

I believe God puts each and every one of us into the best situation possible to make it most likely that we will successfully learn what we need to learn and return to live with Him. God doesn’t stick someone into a situation they’re not up to facing. One that they’re doomed to fail. And remember: living or dying isn’t succeeding or failing. Not in the bigger picture.

None of this discounts the pain of the firefighter’s family. The heartbreak and dire implications that event can and will have on them. Likewise, I would never go up to someone going through a struggle and tell them to chin up, because it’s all just Minecraft anyway. Life is both completely important and not nearly as key as we think. Thankfully, it’s not my job to judge who should live and who should die.

But that also means that we can’t draw any conclusions about someone’s cause or righteousness based on the blessings or cursings they face in this life. Trump should 100% be thanking God he’s still alive, but just because he didn’t die doesn’t mean his campaign is now God-certified-approved. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to bad people. What matters is how we handle those trials and blessings, because each one presents its own challenge. There are many who ultimately become warped and twisted by their riches, after all. Or who become bitter and resentful from their lot in life. At the same time, there are those who remain generous and caring, and who keep their faith and their positive outlook.

In other words, how you respond to Trump and his policies matter far more than whether Trump is still living or breathing. They’re a test. One we’re passing or failing, and I leave it to God to decide which is which, though I have my own opinions.

So my ultimate conclusion is completely different than what I would have said even a day or two ago. God don’t just occasionally intervene in this life; He intervenes constantly. All the time. All with an eye to keep trying to get us to win. To succeed. To learn, so we can become the best people we can be, and hopefully return to live with Him. He doesn’t intervene to keep us from struggles. He intervenes to make it as likely as possible that we will overcome them.

I’ll finish this up with two quick movie references that sum up a lot of this for me. That Gandalf is a pretty smart guy.

And from just a little later in the scene:

And finally, one of my favorite lines in the whole series:

Thanks for sticking with me to the end of this post. I don’t know if it helped you, but it certainly helped me, and that’s something BryceGPT definitely couldn’t have done.

Bryce vs. BryceGPT Round 3: Trump Nicknames

I debated how to handle my third matchup of me vs. BryceGPT. Since the last two were written by BryceGPT, I thought it likely people would begin to vote Bryce, just because I hadn’t written one yet. So to avoid that happening, I’m presenting you today with TWO different versions of the same post. (Ain’t I generous?) One of them is written by me. One is by BryceGPT. You get to vote which you think is which.

For a topic, I wanted to get something closer to what I often write about. While I didn’t want to do a full blown political post, I wanted to at least begin to get close to it. And when I saw Trump’s new nickname for Kamala Harris (Lyin’ Kamala Harris), everything snapped into place. I wrote my personal take on it first, to make sure I wasn’t tainted by any AI suggestions or influences. Then I had BryceGPT write one, and I randomized which was Option One and which was Option Two. With that context in place, here are the two different takes on the topic:

OPTION ONE

So it finally happened. Biden dropped out of the race, and Kamala Harris seems lined up to be the next candidate for the Democrats. I’m going to pass on writing a full blown post about it, mainly because my stance on this election cycle hasn’t changed. I would vote for a deformed artichoke before I vote for Trump. (Assuming the deformed artichoke had the best chance to beat him, of course.) Harris is a much stronger candidate than a deformed artichoke. Strong enough that some people will (theoretically) actually be voting for her and not just against Trump.

But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. No, today I want to discuss something much more important: Trump’s propensity for giving everyone nicknames.

My interest in this mainly comes from being an author. I’ve got to be naming stuff all the time, and honestly, it’s one of the parts of writing I like least. Trump seems to be a big fan of it, and I wonder at times what process he uses to come up with the nicknames he turns to. Here’s a smattering of what he’s used so far, if you’re behind the times.

Crooked Hillary (Clinton), Sloppy Chris Christie, Slimeball James Comey, Low Energy Jeb (Bush), Sleepy Joe (Biden), Little Michael (Bloomberg), Wild Bill (Clinton), Meatball Ron (DeSantis), Jeff Flakey, Birdbrain (Nikki Haley), Crazy Nancy (Pelosi), Shifty (Adam) Schiff, and Pocahontas (Elizabeth Warren). There are many more.

Looking at them as a whole, I see a few themes come up. First and foremost, Trump seems to really wish he were in a Dick Tracy story. Either that, or he was a big Sopranos fan, and he’s trying to keep that flame burning. True, there’s a chance that he actually is more of a Gunsmoke sort of a guy, though if we’re being honest, chances are he came across some TikTok meme for nickname generation, and he’s just going based off that.

Another theme that rises to the surface is a consistent lack of originality. There’s been Lyin’ Kamala, Lyin’ Ted, Lyin’ James Comey, and Lyin’ Hillary. Either he views all of these people as part of one big crime family, or he just likes the word “lyin’.” (My bets are on the latter, for obvious reasons.) If I used the same approach to naming my characters, the number of complaints I’d have to field would be legion.

But the biggest takeaway for me is that Trump is in many ways still mentally mired in first grade. He seems to believe calling people names is effective and a mature thing to do. Perhaps it resonates with his base. I’ll let you reach your own conclusions about that. But overall, I’m surprised he hasn’t yet used the “I know you are but what am I?” argument, or the infamous “So what? My dad can beat up your dad” approach. It leaves me to wonder if in one of the conversations with Zelenskyy, Trump didn’t triple dog dare him to find dirt on Biden.

Whatever. What I want to know from you all is what nickname you’d like Trump to use the next time he talks about you. I think I’d go for Shifty-Eyed Bryce, personally. It’s got a certain ring to it . . .

OPTION TWO

Donald Trump’s nickname game hit new heights of absurdity this morning with the christening of Kamala Harris as “Lyin’ Kamala” just as Biden bowed out of the race. You’ve got to admire the consistency, if not the creativity. This isn’t exactly new territory for Trump. Over the years, he’s dished out nicknames like candy at a parade, each one more playground than presidential.

Remember “Crooked Hillary”? Of course you do. It’s as etched in our collective memory as the theme song to Gilligan’s Island. Then there was “Sleepy Joe,” “Little Marco,” “Lyin’ Ted,” “Pocahontas” (for Elizabeth Warren, because nuanced discourse is overrated), and let’s not forget “Low-Energy Jeb.” It’s like he’s running a name-calling clinic, only without the charm of a witty schoolyard insult.

But why does he do it? What does he think this accomplishes? If we peer into the mind of the nickname czar himself, it seems clear he believes these epithets are a stroke of branding genius, like he’s carving a lasting impression of his opponents in the public’s psyche. He fancies himself the Picasso of pejoratives, the Rembrandt of ridicule. To him, a well-placed nickname is the verbal equivalent of a mic drop.

Except it’s not. It’s actually quite childish and inane. It’s like watching a grown man insist he’s got the best yo-yo tricks on the playground. The constant reliance on these nicknames reeks more of insecurity than ingenuity. It’s a lot like being at a family Thanksgiving where your uncle’s idea of winning the argument is calling you a turkey.

Let’s put it this way: if foreign policy were handled with the same deftness as these nicknames, we’d be negotiating peace deals by seeing who can hold their breath the longest.

The funny thing is, he’s not exactly breaking new ground. This sort of thing works better in wrestling rings and reality TV shows, places where nuance is unnecessary and the loudest voice wins. But in the realm of politics, where decisions impact real lives, the act wears thin. Fast.

I invite you, dear readers, to join in the fun. If Trump were to turn his attention on you, what nickname do you think he’d give you? Keep it in the spirit of the Trumpian tradition: short, snappy, and with a dash of schoolyard. Maybe you’re “Lazy Larry,” “Whiny Wendy,” or “Sneaky Steve.”

As for me, well, I shudder to think. But if I were to get the Trump treatment, I’m guessing I’d end up as something like “Bumblin’ Bryce.” It’s got that signature alliteration he loves, and it paints a picture of someone stumbling through life like a sitcom dad. Which, let’s be honest, might not be too far off the mark on some days.

So, what’s your Trump nickname? Share it in the comments. After all, if we’re going to be dragged into this childish charade, we might as well have some fun with it. And who knows, maybe we’ll come up with something that will make “Lyin’ Kamala” look positively pedestrian by comparison.

Truth Revealed: Bryce vs. BryceGPT Round 2

Sorry about the lack of posts the last couple of days. Those all day library meetings can take it out of you. In any case, I’m back in the swing of things at work today, and my schedule should be a bit better(?) for posts in the next while.

I’m sure you’ve all been waiting on the edge of your seat to discover who wrote my last post. This was a much closer vote. 5 people voted in favor of AI, and 4 voted for it having been written by me. (Though the ones who thought it was written by me wondered if I wasn’t getting influenced by overthinking how to write it, knowing that people were going to be scrutinizing it . . .)

In reality? It was written by BryceGPT. Here was the prompt:

PROMPT

write a blog post explaining that I’ve had to update my website. Try not to be too funny, but be interesting. Pattern it after “too busy to write much” posts in the knowledge base.

First, tell people that this is the second post that might or might not have been written by AI. Challenge them to see if they can tell this time. Then, explain that I needed to revise the website because the blog kept displaying strangely in browsers. I think I’ve got it mostly taken care of, but if they still see issues anywhere, I’d appreciate if they’d let me know.

Mention that I redid the homepage and the bio, and they might want to check those out. Say that I’ll be away at a two day library meeting, so I probably won’t have a chance to post tomorrow.

Apologize that this post is so short, and to make it up, remind them about the time I fought a bat in my house. Give a detailed summary (about 400 words) of what went on. Remind them to vote if this was done by AI or not.

END PROMPT

I think, once again, I was done in by my hurry to get the job done instead of actually caring about the post. This time, I was in a real rush, since I had to get on the road fast. This meant I didn’t take the time to think things through. I threw in the story about the bat to see how well BryceGPT would be able to sum that up in my voice. I was impressed by how well it did, really. It got Denisa’s name right, got the correct chain of events, and did a serviceable job, all with a very short nudge (“remind them about the time I fought a bat in my house”). If you’d like to compare the original, check it out. One of my favorite blog posts.

There’s yet to be a slam dunk for BryceGPT. Even when people think it’s me, they still think something’s off with it. Still, it’s early days. I think I’m going to mess around with the innards of it some more and see if I can’t fine tune it better.

Thanks for playing along, everyone. I, for one, find all of this extremely fascinating,