499,206 total hours
Day 20,800
499,206 total hours
Day 20,800
I am rapidly approaching hour 500,000.
34.25 days from now, as of this writing.
Am I celebrating? I don’t know. Let’s see if I make it that long, first.
The idea of approaching 500,000 hours old lands differently than birthdays ever did. Years are abstract. Hours are intimate. Hours are what you actually live inside.
Five hundred thousand hours means there have been half a million chances to notice something or miss it entirely. Half a million opportunities to be kind, distracted, generous, petty, awake, asleep, or somewhere in between. It is a number large enough to feel mythic, but specific enough to feel accusatory.
Most of those hours were not dramatic. They were ordinary. Folding laundry. Waiting for software to update. Sitting in traffic, convinced you were late for something that now barely exists in memory. That is the uncomfortable truth of time: it is mostly made of beige moments. And yet those are the hours that add up. Those are the ones doing the real work.
Approaching 500,000 hours does not feel like running out of time so much as finally understanding the exchange rate. Hours turn into habits. Habits turn into days that feel familiar. Familiar days turn into a life that seems to have happened very quickly when you look back at it all at once.
There is a quiet relief in realizing how many hours survived you. The bad ones passed. The unbearable ones did not last forever. Even the best ones were temporary, which somehow makes them better instead of worse. Time takes everything, but it also carries you through things you could not have crossed on your own.
Five hundred thousand hours is not a trophy. It is not an achievement. It is evidence. Evidence that you stayed. That you endured boredom and heartbreak and repetition and still kept showing up for the next hour, and the next.
If there is anything to do with the hours ahead, it is probably this: notice them a little more often. Spend fewer of them pretending there will always be more. And forgive yourself for the ones you wasted, because wasting time is one of the most human ways to prove you were alive at all.









The killing of Renee Nicole Good (often cited as Rose Nicole Good) on January 7, 2026, has become a flashpoint in the ongoing debate over the necessity and conduct of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). For critics, her death is not an isolated tragedy but a systemic symptom of an agency that has become hyper-militarized, unaccountable, and fundamentally flawed.
On a snowy Wednesday morning in Minneapolis, Renee Nicole Goodโa 37-year-old U.S. citizen and mother of threeโwas shot and killed by an ICE agent. The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) quickly characterized the incident as an act of self-defense, alleging that Good “weaponized her vehicle” against agents.
However, eyewitness accounts and bystander videos paint a different picture: one of a legal observer and community member caught in the middle of a high-tension “surge” operation. Local leaders, including the Minneapolis Mayor, have described the shooting as reckless, noting that Good had no criminal record and was simply driving in her own neighborhood.
The immediate withdrawal of the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension from the investigationโciting federal restrictions on access to evidenceโhas only deepened the perception that ICE operates within a vacuum of accountability.
The death of Renee Nicole Good is viewed by many as the “tip of the spear” of a broader institutional collapse. Critics argue that ICEโs current structure is inherently prone to tragedy for several reasons:
A documented analysis of the systemic failures within U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, detailing the human cost of lethal neglect and the risks posed to American citizens.
I am in Roanoke, Virginia.
I saw the videos.
Not clips.
Not screenshots.
Not the โcontextโ people sell like coupons.
The videos.
I know the truth.
It does not need to argue.
It does not need a thread or a podcast or a guy pointing at captions.
It just sits there.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
It. Was. Murder.
Say it slow and it stops being controversial.
Say it plain and it stops being abstract.
Say it at all and people get uncomfortable.
Good.
Because comfort is the luxury of people who did not watch.
History is still watching.
And the truth does not need permission to exist.
Filmation’s #TheHardyBoys perform “Those Country Girls” in the episode “What Happened at Midnight?” ABC, Saturday, November 1, 1969.
#ByronKane-#JoeHardy #FentonHardy #DallasMcKennon-#FrankHardy #ChubbyMorton #PeteJones
#JaneWebb-#WandaKayBreckenridge #GetrudeHardy
#FilmationHardyBoys

ICE does *not* get special shoot-on-sight powers. Nobody does.
Leaving the scene does not justify deadly force.
Only an imminent threat to life does – and that must be proven, not asserted.
Does ICE have any authority to shoot someone leaving the scene of an incident?
Answer:
โ No – not merely for leaving
โ No – not for refusing orders
โ No – not for blocking traffic
โ No – not because they are ICE
โ๏ธ Only if the person posed an immediate, unavoidable threat of death or serious bodily harm at that exact moment.
Anything short of that is unconstitutional, regardless of the agency.
Was there an immediate, unavoidable threat at the moment shots were fired?
If the answer is no, then the shooting is unjustified, and any Federal authority does not save it.
School in Minneapolis has been cancelled for the rest of the week due to ICE inflicting terror on the area.
As masked men murdered Renee Nicole Good, a nearby elementary school had to go into lockdown.
ICE then went three blocks down the road to a Minneapolis high school where they chased and tackled at least one person, pepper sprayed students, and were defended on social media by the Trump regime.
The district cancelled school to preserve student safety.
Source: https://kstp.com/kstp-news/top-news/apparent-ice-presence-at-roosevelt-high-school-causes-chaotic-scene/
Critters week 1 of 2026
Skunk, squirrel and cat mostly

MIL just now, fresh from book club, carrying that satisfied glow that suggests something important has just happened.
โI read a book about two months ago, and it deeply affected me.โ
This is how myths begin.
โAwesome,โ I say. โWhat was it called?โ
โI donโt remember.โ
Naturally.
So I adjust course.
โWhat was it about?โ
โI forget.โ
Okay, fair enough. Books are slippery creatures. I try again.
โWhat about it affected you most? A character, a plot point?โ
โIโm not sure,โ she says, serenely. โBut it was excellent.โ
At this point the book has achieved a kind of Platonic perfection. It exists only as Impact.
โHow did it affect you?โ I ask, carefully.
โI donโt know,โ she says, without irony. โBut it was really life and outlook changing.โ
I nod, because this is clearly not a problem that can be solved with follow up questions.
โIโm glad you got something out of it,โ I say, and I mean it.
โIโd like to read it again,โ she continues. โCan you help me find it?โ
โSure,โ I say. โWhat criteria should I use to search for it?โ
She looks at me kindly, the way one looks at a child asking about taxes.
โI donโt know. Youโre the tech guy.โ
So I do what tech guys do. I pull up her tablet and present evidence.
โHere are all the books youโve read in the last three months. Do any of these ring a bell?โ
She reads about four books a week, give or take. There are roughly thirty of them staring back at her.
She scans the list.
โNo,โ she says. โI donโt think so.โ
โWell,โ I say, doing some quick math in my head, โnow you have thirty books to reread and find out.โ
Here is the thing. Her memory outside of books is a steel trap. Names, dates, conversations from decades ago, all locked in and retrievable on demand. But the moment she finishes a book, its contents are immediately flushed like a temporary file. Characters vanish. Plots dissolve. Titles evaporate.
All that remains is the emotional aftertaste and the firm conviction that it was excellent.
Some people collect books. Some people collect knowledge. She collects the feeling of having been changed, again and again, by stories she can no longer name.
Honestly, that might be the most literary approach of all.