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“Trust me, I’m a doctor.”
Welcome back to another fresh episode of the Jamhole. Today we’re back documenting, and making fun of, the ridiculous shit that’s happened this week around the globe.
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Let’s start off with some weird new beef. Neighbor beef. This is why the goal is to eventually live somewhere, preferably like my own planet, where there is no such thing as neighbors.
Nerdy Pleb Book Club time for those of you who know how to read. I finished The Black Tongue thief and The Daughter’s War, so I started to take a dip into the bobiverse. We are Legion by Dennis E. Taylor is next up on the list. Which I read over the weekend and it was quite enjoyable. I’m currently into book 2, For We Are Many.
Over at Dope Depot Reviews, I’ve been putting up more weed education posts, including Live Resin vs Cured Resin, TAC vs THC, and the beginning of a planned Meet the Terpenes series, which will be published soon.
Let’s do some news, starting out with a Florida man in a Honda Civic doing over 90 mph with 34 open White Claws riding shotgun. Not hidden. Not in the back. Buckled into the passenger-seat zone like a hard seltzer copilot. The man was allegedly over the legal limit, which is shocking in the same way learning fire is hot is shocking.
We then examine the reflecting pool situation, where a plan to paint it a beautiful patriotic blue reportedly helped turn it into algae soup. That leads to paint prep, peroxide, algae, government spending, Reddit experts, and the general feeling that somebody probably got paid very well to make water worse.
Cuba showing up this week to try and get some of that sweet “give us $300 billion and we won’t build nukes we weren’t building anyway” money. It’s satire, but barely. These days, reality has filed a restraining order against parody.
Father’s Day comes up, along with the questionable gift idea of DNA test kits. On paper, it’s genealogy. In practice, it’s a festive little box that might tell Dad he is not Dad, Grandma had secrets, or your family tree is actually a poorly maintained shrub.
It’s time for the Jamhole fashion desk, a respected journalistic institution that absolutely nobody asked for. Apparently Gen Z has moved away from minimalist bralettes and back toward push-up bras, cleavage, and early-2000s pop-star lingerie aesthetics. BJ tries to explain the difference between a wireless triangle bralette and whatever gravity-defying architecture is currently trending, while I pretend this is cultural analysis and not just an excuse to say titties a lot.
We have a bird flu outbreak devastating seal pups on remote sub-Antarctic islands. Drone surveys reportedly found thousands of dead seal pups, penguins, and seabirds, which leads us through disease spillover, thawing ice, pandemic anxiety, and the cheerful reminder that nature has many exciting ways to remind us we are temporary meat with Wi-Fi.
Florida returns, because of course it does, with a psychiatrist accused of asking female telehealth patients to undress, wear sports bras, adjust lighting, and squeeze their breasts during sessions. BJ and I talk through the extra grossness of abuse coming from someone in a position of medical authority, while also failing repeatedly to be mature about the phrase “show me them titties.” It’s called balance. Probably.
Here’s a fun video of a Russian oil tank lid getting launched into the air after an air-defense incident or drone strike, depending on which version of the chaos we’re trusting today. Either way, it looks like Looney Tunes with petroleum infrastructure.
BJ brings in a local Springfield hoarder-house fire where blocked windows, entryways, heat injury, possible ammonia, and hazmat all combine into one deeply unpleasant scene.
We close with a giant Ozzy Osbourne statue unveiled at Hellfest in France, which somehow feels like the most wholesome thing in the episode. Giant metal icon statue? Fine. Acceptable. Better use of public space than algae-blue reflecting pool paint.
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