Christian, software dev, USAF vet, TN/Colo St CFB fan, and all-around nice guy. Sir Fatigued Coder of No Agenda Nation. No auto follow-back, RT ≠ endorsement.
You know, I was walking through the grocery store the other day because that’s what we do when we’re not sure what we want for dinner but we know we don’t want to cook it and there it was. Right next to the regular pineapples. Somebody had taken a perfectly good pineapple, cut it up into those little spears, and dipped the whole thing in Kool-Aid.
Now, let me ask you something. Did we really need to improve on pineapple? Nature already did a pretty fair job with it. It’s sweet, it’s juicy… but leave it to certain folks to decide it wasn’t colorful enough. You peel it, you eat it, maybe you put a little salt on it if you’re feeling adventurous. But no. Somebody—probably from one of those neighborhoods where the corner store sells more drink mix than actual fruit—looked at that and said, “You know what this needs? Artificial grape flavoring and enough red dye to make it look like it belongs at a backyard cookout in the hood.”
It’s called Kool-Aid Pineapples, apparently. The kids are making them. TikTok is full of them doing their little dances with it. Grandmothers are probably shaking their heads while secretly trying one, saying it reminds them of the good old days before everything got… fancy. You take your pineapple chunks, you dip them in that little packet of powdered sugar and mystery chemicals that used to turn water into something that could wake the dead after Little League practice—or whatever they call it down at the rec center—and suddenly you’ve got something that looks like it was left out in the rain at a block party.
I tried one. Of course I tried one. That’s my job. It tasted like pineapple that had been hanging around the wrong crowd. The kind of pineapple that stays out too late, picks up some loud flavors, and comes home smelling like grape soda and regret. The sugar hits you first, then that artificial taste that doesn’t quite match any fruit known to man unless you grew up on government cheese and purple drink, and then BOOM the pineapple tries to fight back.
Whatever happened to just eating a piece of fruit? We used to trust pineapple. Now we’re dressing it up like it’s going to a junior high dance in the inner city. Next thing you know they’ll be dipping watermelon in Mountain Dew and calling it “fusion cuisine” while blasting music that doesn’t make any sense to the rest of us.
And don’t get me started on the cleanup. That Kool-Aid powder gets everywhere. Your fingers turn colors that don’t exist in nature. Your counter looks like a crime scene from a Saturday night. Your kids’ tongues are blue for three days. All that for something that was already pretty good on its own, before somebody decided it needed “extra flavor.”
You know, I’ve lived a long time. I’ve seen a lot of trends come and go. But I never thought I’d live to see the day when we started putting drink mix on our produce like it was some kind of cultural upgrade.
That’s just the way it is, I guess. Some things improve with age. Pineapples, apparently, improve with Kool-Aid.
I’m Andy Rooney. Thanks for watching.
This is an incredibly professional response to what sounds like quite the unprofessional display of behavior. His letter to the rest of the team, in Dylan's first reply, is equally impressive.
I don't know what sort of newsman he is, but he sounds like a good leader.
Happy Statehood Day, Tennessee!
For 230 years, Tennessee has led as a frontier for innovation, freedom & opportunity.
As our nation celebrates 250 years, we reflect on our part in America’s story & have great hope for the future. 🇺🇸
1. Should you have moral standards for your own candidates? Yes. Are elections almost always a binary choice between lesser evils? Yes. Both of those truths are the start, not the end, of a serious analysis of how far you're willing to go to back your party.
Feeling thoroughly vindicated in my estimation that the Dispatch way was much more principled that the Bulwark way. You can oppose illiberal populism masquerading as conservatism without resorting to "the enemy of my enemy is my friend."
Six weeks.
SIX FLIPPING WEEKS.
Lucy has not heard our voices. She hasn't slept on her rug. She hasn't gone for a ride in the truck. She hasn't been snuggled by her family, played with Lex, or run free in her own field.
SIX WEEKS.
She's been locked in a tiny cell, sleeping on concrete, likely wondering why we abandoned her.
SIX WEEKS.
She's eleven years old. She doesn't have endless time ahead of her. She could get sick. Her health could fail. Every day matters.
And while everyone moves at a snail's pace, without a care in the world, time keeps slipping away from MY DOG—the dog who was taken because a petty neighbor decided to call the authorities when she slipped out of her collar in our OWN YARD!
This wasn't some outrageous act! This wasn't a purposeful violation of anything and didn’t cause incident. This wasn't the terrifying incident the neighbors or government would like people to believe it was.
It was a normal, everyday occurrence that happened on our private property!
We could have lied. We could have denied it happened. No one had proof otherwise:
But that's not who we are.
So for six weeks, my Lucy—my eleven-year-old dog who stood watch over our family through deployment after deployment, who kept me company during the lonely nights when I watched the news and wondered if my husband would make it home alive—has sat in prison.
This is a sick abuse of the law, and an innocent animal is paying the price.
Not for biting someone.
Not for attacking someone.
Not for leaving and roaming the neighborhood.
For being in her own yard.
Let that sink in.
And because malicious neighbors refused to mind their own business, and because officials with the power to do the right thing have refused to exercise any bit of common sense, she remains there.
They make me sick.
The abuse of power makes me sick.
The character assassination makes me sick.
The lies make me sick.
The fact that people who have never met us, never spoken to us, and don't know the first thing about our family have spent years trying to destroy our peace makes me sick.
Enough is enough!
Let Lucy come home already! Is this really the hill anyone wants to die on? It’s a single dog. It’s an average family. Send her back and leave us alone. That’s all we want.
And for those who have participated in this injustice—whether through malice, cowardice, pride, or indifference, know this:
God sees every bit of it.
He knows the truth.
And one day, every one of us will answer to Him.
Until our Lucy is home and beyond. We will not stop fighting.
#savelucy