The World’s on Fire, So I Made Coffee

Every time I turn on the news or scroll through social media, it’s just another level of hell unlocked. Wars. Pandemics. Billionaires trying to play God. People fighting over what bathroom to use. It’s like the universe spun the wheel of dumbasses and everyone won.

And yet, here I am. Sitting in my kitchen, surrounded by my three dogs, drinking a damn fine cup of coffee while the world crumbles like a week-old Domino’s crust someone forgot behind the oven. Am I supposed to care? Probably. Do I? Not really.

I’ve hit that beautiful Gen X stage where I’ve seen enough bullsh*t to know how this goes. The boomers broke it, the millennials cried about it, Gen Z’s filming it, and us? We’re just over here brewing another pot, muttering “figures” under our breath.

This morning, as my Saint Bernard snored like a freight train and my Malinois gave me the side eye because I wasn’t throwing a ball at 6AM, I looked out the window and thought, “Yep, still on fire.” Not literally (yet), but metaphorically? This planet is a flaming dumpster of stupidity and overhype. So I ground some beans, filled the kettle, and made my own little act of rebellion: a cup of sanity.

Coffee isn’t just caffeine. It’s resistance. It’s the daily ritual that says, “I acknowledge this chaos, but I’m not participating until I’ve had at least two sips.”

And sure, maybe I’m not doing much to fix the world. But I’m also not making it worse. I show up to my two jobs, feed some people, dodge workplace idiocy, hide in the woods geocaching when I can, and come home to my wife and dogs who actually make sense.

So while everyone’s out there arguing, doomsday prepping, or pretending they’re morally superior because they posted a hashtag—I’m here. In my beat-up chair. With my chipped mug. Watching it burn. And smiling. Because at least my coffee’s hot.

And honestly? That’s enough for today.