Photography with Joe

My Kindle Books, Amazon, and the Ghosts of Locke So, Amazon wants to give me a free book every month. One. And a tiny bonus. Free. Kindle. Prime. They call it First Reads. I call it the digital equivalent of finding a single candy in a dumpster and thinking you’ve won a lottery. I download it. I open it. I start reading. But somewhere deep in my brain, the synapses twitch. These books—I don’t own them. Not really. They’re mine until Amazon decides I’m not. Until they disappear. Until the DRM ghost chains them back to a server that could blow up tomorrow and take all my “ownership” with it. And suddenly I feel like Locke, wandering through London in a powdered wig, scribbling notes about monopolies and print charters, except instead of the Stationers’ Company, it’s Jeff Bezos, wielding invisible, global digital power. Locke was mad about the Stationers’ monopoly. He called it absurd, ridiculous, tyrannical in ways most people wouldn’t think to call tyrannical because it was a private co...

  What the Hell is Red Meat – or Purple Meat, for that Matter? Scholz Journal, Rewritten and corrected by AI When people say red meat , they usually mean beef, lamb, or pork. But why “red”? The answer lies in myoglobin — a protein in muscle that stores oxygen for use during activity. More myoglobin means darker meat. My doctor told me to eat more red meat. Call me a philistine, but I had to admit — I wasn’t exactly sure what counted as red meat . On the plate, if my steak looked like a stoplight — bright and glowing red — I’d be worried, not reassured. Why do some animals have more myoglobin than others? It’s evolutionary biology. Myoglobin works like a tiny oxygen tank inside the muscle. Animals that use their muscles for long, steady effort need more oxygen on demand, so they pack those muscles with myoglobin. Cows and sheep spend much of their lives standing, walking, or chewing. Their muscles are built for endurance. High myoglobin lets them keep moving for hours witho...

 Wednesday, June 4th, 2025 Today I waved the white flag and surrendered to the Passport Portal from Hell. What began as a simple quest—renew passport online—quickly became an Olympic event in absurdity, where the hurdles are invisible, constantly shifting, and multiply the longer you stare at the screen. First, there’s the labyrinth of “official-looking” websites, most of which seem designed to test your patience, not provide information. After dodging scams and decoys, I finally landed on what appeared to be the actual government site—congratulations, me!—only to discover that access is doled out like it’s front-row tickets to a Taylor Swift concert. Limited slots. No warning. Line opens at 7:00 a.m. sharp.  At 7:10 a.m., I logged in like a naïve optimist. Too late. The line was full. Apparently, if you're not already logged in by 7:00:00.01 a.m. you may as well be dead to the system. Still, I pressed on, because hope is the last thing to die. After several mornings of digita...