Lazy Sunday CDVI: Conference Sessions

On Friday, 18 September 2026, I attended the South Carolina Independent School Association (SCISA) Teachers’ Conference. I presented two sessions, one about creating a “DIY Garage Band Music Ensemble” from scratch, the other about teaching private music lessons to supplement your income. Paid subscribers have access to my full remarks, but anyone can view the Google Slide decks I assembled to accompany them here and here.

That said, I thought I’d look back at those two talks in this addition of Lazy Sunday:

I’ll have more details on how the talks went soon, but I’ve been all over South Carolina the past few days, so stay tuned!

Happy Sunday!

—TPP

SubscribeStar Saturday: SCISA Talk 2: DIY Garage Band Music Ensemble

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Yesterday (Friday, 18 September 2026), I attended the SCISA Teachers’ Conference. I presented two sessions, one about creating a “DIY Garage Band Music Ensemble” from scratch, the other about teaching private music lessons to supplement your income.

I always like to have prepared remarks for any public speaking, so I’ve put together the following. The slides for this talk and the one whose text I shared last week are linked above.

For now, here’s “DIY Garage Band Music Ensemble”:

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SubscribeStar Saturday: SCISA Talk 1: Supplement Your Income with Music Lessons

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This Friday, 18 September 2026, I’ll be attending the SCISA Teachers’ Conference. I’ll be presenting two sessions, one about creating a “DIY Garage Band Music Program” from scratch, the other about teaching private music lessons.

I always like to have prepared remarks for any public speaking, so I’ve put together the following. I’m building a Google Slides presentation to go along with the prepared text, but it’s not quite done at the time of writing, so I’ll share that later.

For now, here’s “Supplement Your Income With Music Lessons”:

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Clancy Mistrial

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After lengthy deliberation on what should have been the most obvious verdict in human history, the jury came back hung in the Lindsay Clancy murder trial. One heroic juror (almost certainly one of the three men on the jury) held out in the face of what must have been overwhelming pressure from his fellow jurors and, it seems, at least half of the country (and, sadly, a massive amount of women).

My younger brother sent me this video:

I agree with the caption: give that man the Nobel Peace Prize!

The only silver lining here is that Lindsay Clancy will still be held at the Tewksbury State Hospital until and/or if a retrial occurs. She won’t be roaming at large, looking for children to lure into her candy cottage in the woods (or whatever modern witches do other than strangling their own children to death). Had that man caved to the pressure, she’d be walking free, probably heading to Lowe’s to buy a cauldron suitable enough for cooking babies.

Of course, this outcome is still a miscarriage of justice, one that suggests the serious need to reconsider our approach to jury selection—and who is even eligible to serve.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Chaplaincy

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This school year I began a new role at my school. My official title is “Chaplain and Chapel Coordinator,” which sounds both lofty and bureaucratic. Fortunately, it is neither.

My basic job is to organize the weekly Chapel services, which are Thursday mornings at our school. Initially, I thought I’d be delivering a short devotional or sermonette every Thursday, as our school chaplains have done traditionally. However, right before school began, the new headmaster told me he would like me to invite in members of our community to speak to the students; the Associate Head of School also requested that I invite students to perform music for some services.

Those were both fantastic ideas, and I was beginning to understand why “Chapel Coordinator” was part of my title: beyond merely giving a weekly devotional, I would be coordinating with multiple people from within and without the school.

With that mandate, I set about coordinating chapels for the first semester; at this point, I essentially have everyone scheduled through September; most of October; and most of November. I’m holding off on the two December dates, as those fall around the time of the annual Christmas Musical and the Christmas Concert, and I’m not sure what impact those will have on Chapel services just yet.

Today I though I’d give readers a glimpse into my new role: what I am planning, how it’s going so far, and what I hope to see unfold (lots of salvations, of course).

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Belated SubscribeStar Saturday: Casey Anthony vs. Lindsay Clancy

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The latest controversy to rock the Internet is a legitimately terrifying one: a mother slew all of her children in what appears to be a premeditated, carefully calculated manner, meticulously planned to concoct an insanity plea; and tens of thousands of women, if not more, are applauding her as some kind of hero for mental health advocacy.

It’s a horrifying example of how evil becomes so mundane, we risk celebrating it as some kind of positive good. It’s also an indication of how easily manipulable women are when a viewpoint—even an objectively evil and lethal one—gains enough consensus to be “popular.” Women are actively identifying with a woman who committed cold-blooded infanticide because “raising kids is hard.”

The bandwagoning of a certain group of women in favor of Lindsay Clancy got me thinking about the Casey Anthony case from over a decade ago. I remember the outcry in response to that case of infanticide was completely different. Most women abhorred Casey Anthony. I still remember when the verdict was announced. I was in the office, one of two men in what was otherwise an overwhelmingly white female office. Every single one of them lost it when Anthony was found “not guilty” of the core charges (but found guilty of some lesser chargers involving misleading the police). “How could she be found ‘not guilty’! She so clearly killed her child!” was the paraphrased howl of outrage.

At the time, I reasoned that women were so fascinated with the Casey Anthony case because it made them feel good about their mothering abilities. The thought process that simmered just below the surface seemed to be, “well, I may have made some mistakes, but I didn’t kill my kid, so I’m a Really Good Mom.” That the jury determined the prosecution could not prove Anthony’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt seemed not to matter at all—these ladies knew Anthony was guilty, evidence be damned. It was one of my first real glimpses into the hive mind of a certain segment of the female population.

Now we find women having a completely opposite reaction to Lindsay Clancy, who has admitted to slaying her children. Whereas the prosecution in the Anthony case relied on all manner of dubious forensic “evidence” to pursue a conviction (which, it seems, is why it ultimately failed), all of the grizzly facts are confirmed in the Clancy case. It’s not a question of whether she did kill her three young children—she did, and she admits it—it’s a question of her sanity at the time.

That’s one key difference between the cases. What intrigues me, though, is that women were so willing to send Anthony to the chair, but are celebrating Clancy. The former might have killed her child, but the State of Florida couldn’t prove it beyond a reasonable doubt, and women were furious. The latter did kill her children, and women are lauding her as a feminist icon. Have things changed so much after a decade-plus of wokery that women love infanticide?

Well, leaving abortion aside—perhaps the most devilish evidence of the self-destructive nature of modern women—I would propose another theory, one I have not seen discussed elsewhere: women hated Anthony because she was poor white trash; they defend Clancy because she’s an upper-middle class white professional. It’s a matter of class identity for them. It felt good for those same upwardly mobile women to dunk on the trailer park girl from Orlando—“she’s not one of us!”

But Clancy is one of them. She represents the apex of the “AWFL,” the Affluence White Female Liberal: a nurse living an affluent lifestyle with extensive medical and psychiatric support, as well as a doctor husband, who still wasn’t content. Indeed, she was so discontent, she murdered her own children—and, somehow, it’s her husband’s fault.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Professional Development

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Koi Dance is out now on all streaming platforms and at https://tjcookmusic.bandcamp.com. It’s 90% off (!) with promo code koipond. That means it’s $1 for twelve tracks of great music (and that promo code is also good for everything on the site).

The school year is back in swing, and while I’m now on extra-super-secret-double-part-time (a little-known codicil in the modern working world’s constitution), I still have to complete some mandatory trainings each year. These trainings are rarely interesting, but nor are they particularly onerous; they’re just the boxes one has to check to appease that dread fiend Liability.

For example, each year my colleagues and I go through mandated OSHA bloodborne pathogens training. It’s a simple presentation reviewing procedures for dealing with a child (or anyone) bleeding all over a classroom. Believe it or not, that kind of thing does happen, although not for the grisly reasons readers’ minds might be conjuring up. It’s usually something benign: an unexpected nosebleed (yours portly had his share of those in high school) or a skinned knee. One time a pianist had a stubborn hangnail that got caught while playing and he bled all over the baby grand piano (it was pretty metal).

We also go through active shooter training, which is a grim reminder of the godless dystopia we currently inhabit. It’s useful to be reminded that the world is fallen and that there are truly wicked people out there. It’s also a reminder that law enforcement often view everything from the absolute worst-case scenario (“that big window is a death trap!”), which I suppose makes sense, given that they interact with the fallout of worst-case scenarios everyday.

This year I just had to attend a handful of these mandatory trainings, included the two mentioned above. However, due to a miscommunication from my admin, I attended an additional training that, were I still a classroom teacher, might have offered some marginal utility. Even in my new role as Chaplain, it had some relevant insights.

However, as with many such “professional development opportunities,” it presented something of a microcosm with everything that is wrong with the teaching profession.

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jalapeno popper on hand

SubscribeStar Saturday: Jalapeño Poopers

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For those of you looking for Issue 3 of The Town Crier, here’s the embed; I’ll get around to creating a separate page for these issues soon:

Now, on to today’s post! —TPP

My younger brother sent me the following Tweet from the legendary X user Catturd ™:

His wife came up with the title “Jalapeño Poopers”; my brother asked me to write a blog post with that title. So, here we are! I’m never one to turn down some scatological fun.

But back to that Tweet (or are they called “Xes” or “Xs” or eXs” now?) from Feline Dookie Catturd ™: doesn’t it seem like we’re experiencing tons of diarrhea-inducing outbreaks in our food lately? By now, we’re all familiar with the infamous cyclosporiasis, which has had a whopping 0.1% of Michigan’s population glued to the porcelain throne, with around 22,700 cases nationwide. Nearly half—11,500—of those cases are from Michigan itself.

Most notoriously, Taco Bell, which is already known for its diarrheic properties, had lettuce infected with the dookie-inducing spores. Dr. Wife and I eat at Taco Bell almost every Sunday after church, and I forbade any lettuce for at least a couple of weeks after Taco Bell sent out a reassuring e-mail that they’d removed the offending lettuce from their supply lines. Believe it or not, I trusted Taco Bell/Yum, Incorporated; I didn’t trust their franchisees to toss the old lettuce (although I think we’re in the clear now).

Now that other staple of Mexican cuisine, the spicy jalapeño, is spreading salmonella across the land. In looking at the map in this New York Post piece, it seems that Minnesota and Colorado have the highest number of cases, with large swaths of the Midwest suffering from the highest concentrations (there are even “5 to 6” cases here in South Carolina).

Granted, the total cases according to that map are around 345 nationwide—probably fewer than people who just have run-of-the-mill loose stools and diarrhea from eating too many clean jalapeño poppers at any given moment in the country. Additionally, there have been no deaths yet, and even the dreaded cyclosporiasis seems to be responsible for only two. That’s two too many, of course, but as far as devastating outbreaks go, that’s not screaming “nationwide panic,” even if the news coverage seems to be leaning in that direction (granted, I wouldn’t be ordering any salad in Michigan anytime soon).

What I’ve noticed, too, is that the news cycle’s hysteria is not “taking” the way it usually does. Sure, it could be because the numbers are, nationally, fairly low. It’s also possible to avoid consuming contaminated foods to some extent, whereas a communicable disease is a bit harder to guard against.

I think, however, that there is something different going on here.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Distributing Issue 2 of My Micro-Newspaper

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Issue 2 of The Town Crier, my micro-newspaper/newsletter, is out in the world. Like the inaugural issue, I printed 100 issues and distributed them throughout our little town.

Believe it or not, the public schools started back on 21 July 2026. Yes, you read that correctly—students were back the third Tuesday in July. That seems borderline criminal to yours portly. That means teachers have been back even longer.

Most of the schools in South Carolina are transitioning to a quasi-/semi-year-round calendar. There are certainly perks, such as defeating the dreaded “summer slump,” and students get breaks at the end of every quarter, avoiding the long Labor Day-to-Thanksgiving slog of the first semester (and the seemingly endless April and May death march in the second semester). But there’s something about darkening the door of a schoolhouse in July that sends shivers up my spine. July is sacred—and hot! Nobody wants to learn anything when it’s 100-degrees out, the humidity is somehow above 100%, and bookbags make youngsters resemble tiny Quasimodos.

But I digress. Naturally, I touched upon the return to school in a far hokier manner in The Town Crier. The point of The Town Crier is to recapture something of the cheesy, blandly inoffensive, yet still charming little local newsletters of my youth. These would be sitting in tiny mom and pop diners and local eateries; you’d grab one and read some fun trivia while you waited for your meal. These were even more fun when traveling, as they offered a little glimpse into the local world.

I also continued to experiment with the formatting and layout in this second issue. A guy on a Discord chat recommended adding the shadowing to the masthead, which really does add more weight and heft to the title. I also added in some “fun facts” and a Bible verse. I took that experimentation even further with Issue 3, wherein I introduce some graphics to the masthead and throughout the paper, and reduced the crossword “solution” grid so it’s not so easy to glance at it mistakenly (more on that next week).

While this micro-newspaper is meant for the Marlboro County, South Carolina region, please feel free to print and distribute your own copies, or to read the current issue here:

I also extended my distribution network this time around, spreading my 100 issues across more locations in the hopes of reaching more folks in more diverse settings. Here’s what I did, and some observations from the second distribution.

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My TripAdvisor Review of Belize City

Poor Belize City. It’s becoming something of a punching bag for yours portly. I wanted to like it so badly, but it was really the most disappointing stop on our recent cruise.

That doesn’t make me a heartless monster. We tipped our tour guide, Omar, and bus driver, as we do for all of our excursions. It was cool seeing a city and a country that I’d never visited before. I appreciated how Omar and our driver improvised to deal with the heavy rain that hit when we made landfall.

But, as I’ve noted ad nauseum, the city itself was a letdown. That’s the heart of a review I completed at Omar’s urging (he came around with a QR code on his phone that we all took a picture of). I’m still not sure I’ve actually reviewed the correct service and/or tour, as the QR code wouldn’t scan properly, but, hey, I tried my best (and gave Omar a shout-out; he was, after all, the man who inspired the genre-defying megahit “Drink the Rum“).

The Doomed QR Code

So, with a dearth of better content to share, here is the full text of my TripAdvisor review (which you can also read here):

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