So here’s the thing — I’ve been neglecting this blog, and that stops now. Life gets busy, other things take priority, and somehow the place where I actually get to say what I think ends up sitting quiet for too long. Consider this the restart. I’m going to be posting here more regularly, covering the things that catch my attention — pop culture, politics, sports, whatever is making me laugh or making me crazy on any given week. Probably a mix of all of the above, knowing me.
I also have a podcast in the works. It’s still finding its feet, and I want it to have a little more polish before I point you toward it — but when it’s ready, you’ll be the first to know. Stay tuned. In the meantime, here’s what’s been on my mind this week.
Apple Said “Hey Siri, Call Google” — And They Did
Well, it finally happened. Apple — the company that once fired a metaphorical missile at anyone who dared not build their own silicon — just handed the keys to Siri over to Google. At WWDC 2026, Apple finally delivered a rebuilt Siri, powered by a custom Google Gemini model reportedly costing roughly $1 billion per year, confirmed publicly by Google Cloud CEO Thomas Kurian. Tim Cook, in his final WWDC keynote as CEO before stepping down in September, actually wiped away a tear during the presentation. One can only wonder: sentiment, or was it the check he just signed to a company that makes Google Search?
The new Siri AI is limited to iPhone 15 Pro and later, while iPhone 17 Pro and Air models get the full premium experience. If you’re on anything older? You still get iOS 27, but your Siri will essentially be an enthusiastic intern who doesn’t have full database access. Second-class citizen status — but hey, at least Apple let you keep your seat on the bus.
To recap: Apple, sitting near a $4.5 trillion valuation, built an AI strategy that amounts to writing enormous checks to its biggest rival. Bold. Arguably brilliant. Definitely a little bit hilarious.
He-Man and the Masters of the Box Office Disaster
I’ll be honest — I had a genuinely great time watching Masters of the Universe last Friday. Did it make me feel like an eight-year-old again? Absolutely. Was it ridiculous in the best possible way? Without question. And that end-credits tease of She-Ra? Goosebumps, nostalgia, the whole package.
Unfortunately, the rest of America apparently didn’t feel the same urgency. The film earned $29.3 million domestically and $25 million internationally in its opening weekend, for a disappointing $54.3 million global debut. Against a reported budget of $170 million or more, analysts say it needs to clear north of $400 million worldwide just to break even. Someone at Mattel is sweating right now.
The most revealing statistic? Inaugural crowds were 66% male and nearly 40% were above the age of 45 — meaning the movie that was supposed to ignite a new generation of toy buyers was mostly attended by people who already own the original action figures. In storage boxes. In their parents’ garages.
Jared Leto as Skeletor didn’t really participate in the press tour or promote the film on social media, which at this point feels entirely on-brand for Leto. The man has become the human equivalent of a studio quietly removing a cast member from the poster.
It’s a genuine shame, because it’s a fun film. But nostalgia, as it turns out, is not always a bankable currency.
Spielberg’s Back, Baby — And He Brought Aliens
We’re catching a 12:30 showing of Disclosure Day today — and not just any showing. We’re seeing it in 70mm, which is either a sign of dedication to the craft of cinema or a sign that I’ve completely lost the plot. Probably both.
So what exactly is 70mm? Unlike the digital projectors in most multiplexes, 70mm is actual physical film — a print where each frame is literally 70 millimeters wide, with 65mm dedicated to the image itself and the remaining 5mm carrying the soundtrack. The result is a level of detail, color depth, and sheer visual scale that digital projection genuinely struggles to match. The image is sharper, the colors are richer, and on a large enough screen it has a texture and almost tactile weight to it that feels different from anything digital. It’s the format used for Lawrence of Arabia, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and more recently Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, Tenet, and Oppenheimer. Fewer than a handful of theaters in any given city can even project it. It’s a genuinely special way to see a film, and for a Spielberg sci-fi epic, it feels exactly right.
The film stars Emily Blunt, Josh O’Connor, Colin Firth, Colman Domingo, Wyatt Russell, and Eve Hewson, with a screenplay from longtime Spielberg collaborator David Koepp — the man who wrote Jurassic Park, War of the Worlds, and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. The central question: if someone could prove to you that we weren’t alone in the universe, would that frighten you? Emily Blunt confirmed in Empire Magazine that there are definitely questions posed by Close Encounters that are answered in Disclosure Day. And yes, John Williams is back — marking his 30th collaboration with Spielberg. Thirty. The man is a national treasure.
This brings me to a nostalgic tangent I feel very strongly about. Does anyone else miss the era of the summer blockbuster? When a Friday opening felt like a civic event? I have a summer birthday, and I still get chills thinking about seeing the 1989 Batman in theaters as a kid — those Danny Elfman opening credits, that theme music… you felt like you were part of something enormous. That’s what summer movies used to do to you. Here’s hoping Spielberg delivers that feeling today.
If you haven’t seen the final trailer yet, clear two and a half minutes out of your schedule right now. It’s something else:
“The Deal Is Imminent” — A Love Story by Donald Trump (39 Chapters and Counting)
The President has now told us, by my count, thirty-nine times that an Iran deal is imminent. Thirty-nine. At some point “imminent” stops being a word about timing and becomes more of a personality trait.
I’ll be direct: we went from Joe Biden — who was clearly in cognitive decline and whose team should have been far more honest about it — to Donald Trump, who appears to operate on an entirely different relationship with the truth. At least with Biden the problem was visibility. With Trump the problem is volume.
Let’s take a brief stroll down Memory Lane of Campaign Promises:
- “I’ll cut your electric bills by 50%.” Still waiting. Prices did move — unfortunately not in that direction.
- “The Ukraine war will be over on Day One.” Day One came and went. So did Day 500. The war is ongoing.
- “Groceries will be more affordable.” The tariff policy introduced broad new taxes on imports. Imported goods cost more when you put tariffs on them. Economists had thoughts on this. Groceries had thoughts on this. Your wallet had thoughts on this.
- “Inflation will be gone.” Inflation has continued to exist as a concept. The tariff-driven price pressures actively made this harder to achieve.
There is a sadness to all of this that isn’t partisan — it’s civic. When a president says something thirty-nine times and it hasn’t happened, something has gone structurally wrong in the relationship between leadership and honesty. Americans deserve better, whoever is sitting in that chair.
Phil Mickelson: Portrait of a Man Who Simply Cannot Help Himself
Has any athlete in recent memory done more to systematically dismantle their own legacy than Phil Mickelson? The man is a six-time major champion, one of the most naturally gifted golfers to ever swing a club, and yet somehow he is perpetually the subject of a headline that begins with “Phil Mickelson has reportedly…”
The latest: Mickelson has been removed from The Farms Golf Club in Rancho Santa Fe — a club where he has played and practiced for decades — after a female employee accused him of inappropriate, unwanted physical contact. The club conducted an independent investigation, issued a statement about their “commitment to integrity, excellence and accountability,” and showed him the door.
This comes on the heels of a year in which Mickelson has been largely absent from golf, citing a “personal family health matter” that led him to miss the Masters in April, withdraw from the PGA Championship in May, and skip the U.S. Open entirely. His complete 2026 competitive resume: a tied-for-48th finish at LIV Golf South Africa in March. One event. T-48. That’s it.
Is anyone really surprised? This is the same Phil who torpedoed his PGA Tour career with his enthusiastic embrace of Saudi-backed LIV Golf, openly admitted to a gambling addiction that reportedly cost him tens of millions of dollars, and has spent the better part of a decade generating headlines for everything except birdies. Phil Mickelson is what happens when prodigious talent and spectacular judgment failures occupy the same body for 55 years running.
The man could have been remembered simply as one of the greatest golfers of all time. Instead, every few months, he hands us a new chapter. Well played, Phil. In some ways, at least.
Happy Mark Larson Day — 50 Years of Keeping San Diego Company
And now, the best news of the week.
Today, June 12, 2026, is officially Mark Larson Day in San Diego broadcasting. Fifty years ago this month, Larson and his new wife arrived in San Diego from Rockford, Illinois, after he was hired by legendary radio GM Paul Palmer to work at KFMB 760-AM. “We expected our stay in San Diego would last a couple of years before relocating to another market,” Larson said. “I never imagined I would be celebrating this type of milestone anniversary.” Today he holds the record for the longest continuous on-air radio and TV presence in San Diego history, currently heard on KOGO AM-600.
Mark is a friend, and I mean that genuinely. Fifty years in radio is extraordinary in any era — but in this era, when the medium has been declared dead approximately eleven times by people who clearly aren’t listening? It’s remarkable. Fifty years of showing up. Fifty years of having the conversation. Fifty years of being a voice in the car, in the kitchen, in the room. The city owes you more than it knows.
Happy 50th, Mark. Here’s to the next stretch.
Shell Yeah: The TMNT Pizzeria Is Coming to Santa Monica
Finally, the news you didn’t know you needed: the world’s first official Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Pizzeria is opening right here in Southern California.
The first official TMNT Pizzeria opens on Saturday, June 20 at 1444 Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica at 11 a.m. The 3,000-square-foot immersive dining experience — created in collaboration with Paramount Products & Experiences and Lunchbox Group — features exclusive merchandise, interactive photo moments, themed cocktails, and most importantly, pizza. The interior is modeled after the franchise’s original 1980s comic and cartoon artwork, with physical recreations of the characters’ subterranean sewer environments. Neon lights. Ooze. The works.
The menu was developed with consultation from Brooklyn-based pizzaiolo Angelo Womack, a veteran who has worked with acclaimed spots like Roberta’s and Scarr’s — classic New York-style pizza, turtle-approved.
Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo will be at the grand opening in person. Follow @tmntpizzeriala on Instagram for a look inside — it is way, way cool. Cowabunga, indeed.
That’s a wrap. Happy Mark Larson Day to San Diego, and for everyone else — go see Disclosure Day. Spielberg isn’t getting any younger, and honestly, neither are we.