I Just Can’t Today.

I’m not feeling well, I’m cranky, and just reading through Tiedrich this morning raised my blood pressure so much that I’m not going to cut and paste it today. You’re welcome to read him here.

This Has Inspired Me

I don’t know how far I’ll get with it, but I know it’s lit a fire somewhere inside that I need to address. I think of my collection of CD and MiniDisc players, the various items of stereo gear in boxes in closets—not to mention clothing I haven’t worn in years, and I realize that I’ve got to start purging.  I think of the embarrassment of knick-knacks on the top of shelves that I clean myself because I don’t want our monthly housekeeping service to have to deal with it. My desk drawers are a disaster, along with various other drawers scattered throughout the house, full of shit that hasn’t been touched in forever—not to mention the plastic storage tubs in closets that are full of things that if they were just thrown out nothing inside would be missed.

Don’t Let Them Gaslight You


Friend, I may not know you, but I’m pretty sure I know some things about you:

I know you feel something breaking inside lately, an invisible fracture that only you’re fully aware of, one that seems to grow deeper by the hour.

I know you walk away from conversations with people you once relied on for wisdom and compassion, doubting your own sanity because you no longer recognize those qualities in them.

I know you feel internally estranged from the friends, coworkers, family members, and neighbors you used to find affinity with, the people who once felt like home.

I know you stare at the perpetual parade of horrible scrolling past you, from the second you wake up prematurely in the early morning until the stretched-out nighttime moments you try unsuccessfully to fall asleep, and how you question the grip you have on reality.

I know the crushing disbelief you feel when you look around and see so many people who don’t seem the slightest bit bothered, who are carrying on as if this is all normal; people who appear fully oblivious to the Category 5 shitstorm that you’ve been screaming about for a decade, now.

I hear the nagging question that careens inside your head, the one you ask yourself a few hundred times a day: “Is it me, or has a huge portion of this country lost its mind?”

It isn’t you.

You’re quite fine, and this is, of course, both good and terrible news because of what it says about you and about the place you find yourself.

The fact that you see how wrong this all is means your faculties are intact, your mind is fully right, and your heart is working properly. It’s all confirmation that you still have a soul doing what souls are supposed to do: keep you deeply human in profoundly inhumane times.

This is why you need to hold tightly to that humanity because it is rarer and more valuable than it has ever been.
It’s why you need to kindle this holy unrest in the center of your belly, because it can push back the numbing flood of apathy threatening to swallow up the beautiful fury of good people.
It’s why you can’t allow your right but troubled mind to make peace with such abject madness.

If enough time passes, an otherwise healthy person can start to get used to feeling sick. They can slowly begin to convince themselves that almost any horrifying, toxic, painful, twisted reality is acceptable, even ordinary.
Little by little, they can gradually allow their hearts to acclimate to the nightmare, to come to see it as normal.
Either that, or they come to believe the damage to be beyond repair, and they collapse inward, a hopeless, lightless shell of who they once were.

I need you to hear this, friend:
You’re okay.
You’re not overreacting,
you’re not stupid,
and you’re not crazy.
You’re also in good company.

Right now, there is a massive army of similarly walking wounded sharing this place with you; fellow exhausted but still pissed-off warriors who realize that the bad people are counting on them to become so disheartened that they give up—and who refuse to give them the f*ckin’ satisfaction.

You and I, we’re seeing clearly, friend, which is always the more painful path; staring down the terrors and refusing to look away from what so many willfully choose not to see.

We know that this movement assailing our nation is an assault on decency, a rebellion against goodness, a mutiny against sanity, and that’s why we need to keep resisting it.

We need to shout down the legion of professional liars working so fiercely to convince us that it’s we who have gone mad.

We need to refuse to be gaslit by people who try to diminish our worries, mock our outrage, or dismiss our despair, even if we have once called them friends.

We need to press on undaunted and unafraid, knowing that the jittery chaos-makers realize their time is short, and they are rightly terrified of us because our goodness makes us dangerous.

So, breathe, gather yourself, and carry on.

Work to find your people, those who are as heartbroken and furious as you are. Find ways to care for human beings in peril, to organize against the legislative and physical assaults, to be focused and effective in your response, and to be strengthened by loving community.

You’re not crazy, but these days surely are.

You’re not upside down right now, friend; a good portion of this place is.

People of faith, morality, and conscience together, from every corner of this nation, will right it.

Grieve, and move.

Spotted on Reddit

It’s no secret that I’ve been infected with the HiFi bug since I was originally exposed to it in the 70s (the glory days of consumer audio as they’re known) in high school by my buddy Ken. Over the years, I’ve spent thousands of dollars in pursuit of that ideal sound and the irony has not been lost on me that as I’ve gotten older and my disposable income increased, allowing me the ability to chase after this ill-defined dream, my hearing has also been steadily diminishing on probably the same scale. I painfully discovered this in the early 2000s when I blew out a pair of tweeters in my system while trying to hear an 18kHz tone.

I’ve come to accept I can’t really hear pretty much anything over about 12kHz any more. Do I know I’m missing “something” that I used to hear? Yes. Maybe some of the “sparkle” that’s clearly lodged in my memory of these performances. Does that lessen my appreciation of music in any way? Not one bit.

That’s why this post on Reddit (copied below) resonated with me. I don’t know how many of you are as HiFi obsessed as I’ve been all my life or are just casual listeners, but I know that most—if not all—of my readers fall within in the same age range as myself and I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on this.


A Small Theory About Audiophiles and Aging (Curious What You Think)

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I’m genuinely curious whether it resonates with anyone here.

We all know age-related high-frequency hearing loss (presbycusis) is normal. Most of us could hear close to 18–20 kHz as teenagers. Over time, that upper range gradually declines. It’s subtle, but measurable.

At the same time, the people who go deepest into the hobby (high-resolution libraries, serious DACs, carefully chosen amplifiers, room treatment, premium speakers) often aren’t 20-year-olds. They tend to be older.

Of course, disposable income plays a role, but not always. I know very wealthy people in their 20s and early 30s who could afford serious systems if they wanted to.

Here’s the thought:

As our hearing changes, music doesn’t sound exactly the way it did when we were younger. Not worse, necessarily. Just different. Maybe a little less sparkle. A bit less “air.” Slightly less immediacy in the top end.

So we start refining.

We upgrade the source. Then the DAC. Then the amp. Then the speakers. We experiment with positioning, isolation, cables, power. Each change brings subtle differences. Sometimes clearly audible, sometimes more subjective, but meaningful.

What if part of that drive isn’t just about objective fidelity?

What if it’s also about chasing a memory?

Not a specific frequency response curve, but the feeling of how music hit us when our hearing was at its peak. The internal reference we formed in our late teens or early twenties.

In that sense, the audiophile journey might be partly restorative. We’re not only optimizing equipment. We’re trying to align our present experience with an earlier sensory benchmark.

Interestingly, this might also explain why some listeners gravitate toward slightly warmer presentations over time. A smoother top end, richer harmonics, a more relaxed character. Not necessarily more accurate, but more satisfying.

I’m not saying this is the whole story. Gear differences are real. Room acoustics matter. Recordings matter. Taste evolves.

But I do wonder: does the intensity of the pursuit increase as our hearing subtly shifts?

Has anyone here actually tested their high-frequency hearing recently and noticed a correlation with the sound signature they prefer?

Curious to hear thoughts, especially from people who’ve been in the hobby 20+ years.

I’m 45, by the way. Keen bass player. I keep spending money upgrading my three hi-fi systems, and yet I’m still chasing what those first CDs made me feel when I played them on our family’s very average Sony CD player through cheap earphones.

It was 1994–95, and that remains one of my most powerful “audiophile” experiences.

Addendum:

The more I read the thoughtful replies you’re taking the time to write, the more I realize that what I’m describing probably goes beyond simple EQ or frequency response.

Maybe what I’m actually chasing isn’t “more treble,” but things like staging, separation, definition, presence — that sense of space and realism that makes music feel alive.

It’s also possible that when I was younger, it wasn’t just my ears that were different, but my brain. I was more attentive, more curious, more emotionally open to discovering what music could be. I remember being genuinely overwhelmed by those songs, even through what I now recognize was a very average system.

So perhaps part of the reference point I’m trying to get back isn’t purely acoustic. It might be cognitive and emotional as well.

I hope this clarifies what I meant in the original post.

Quote Of The Day

Thomas Massie, Republican Representative from Kentucky, on the power behind the Epstein coverup:

“Last night I received a flash drive containing the complete list of files belonging to Jeffrey Epstein. Everything is there: every billionaire, every campaign donor, every single person. Now let me explain why you haven’t heard anything about this in the media. Because they’re all in there. They will do everything to prevent these documents from being made public. Epstein was far more than just a pedophile; he was an intelligence asset. He was part of a blackmail operation used to control billionaires, politicians, and world leaders. If this list ever sees the light of day, the system as we know it will collapse. The public has the right to know the truth, and I am not afraid to share it.”

Do it.

Share it all.

[Source]

Safe To Upgrade…Finally?

After a very unpleasant experience with Apple’s latest macOS, Tahoe, back in December—and successfully downgrading back to Sequoia without becoming homicidal, I swore it off.

Based on everything I read online subsequently, I wasn’t the only one. “Worst O/S release in years!” seemed to be the common refrain. “Half baked, not ready for prime time!”

Usually Apple manages to iron out the little glitches in a new O/S within the first couple itertions. Unfortunately, based on what everyone was saying, the problems apparently continued through the 26.1 and 26.2 releases.

But this week, Apple released Tahoe 26.3 and the interwebs were strangely supportive. People were saying that nearly all of the glitches they’d been experiencing had been cleared up and it was running as well as Sequoia.

Hesitantly—very hesitantly—after doing a full backup, I went ahead and pulled the trigger on the upgrade. Despite the good reviews, I was still fully expecting to spend my evening (and no doubt a good portion of tomorrow) downgrading everything again.

But hey, at least this time I knew what would need to be done.

Imagine my surprise when the installation completed, the machine rebooted and, well…it just worked!*

Yeah, I had to turn off the glass effects via the “Reduce Transparency” toggle in System Settings → Accessibility → Vision → Display because I still hate “liquid glass” (although it’s not as bad it had been previously to 26.3), and once that was done it was golden.

So if you’ve been holding off upgrading because of all the bad press, I can tell you that at least in my own case, everything is finally working as it should. Please note that your mileage may vary and to proceed at your own risk. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!

*one pretty striking glitch remains that I didn’t catch because I rarely use column view in Finder, so if you do be aware that this is still semi-broken..