Jeff Scolnick/ Photographic Artist

08/24/2026

Notice the red face:

Mr. Frumpy isn’t parting Lake Huron—he’s barely parting the patience of the beachgoers who’ve already decided he’s today’s cautionary tale. There he stands in Lexington, Michigan,red‑faced and vibrating with the kind of misplaced confidence usually found in malfunctioning lawn equipment, shouting at the waves like they owe him back taxes.

Lake Huron, ancient and unbothered, responds with the steady rhythm of someone refusing to acknowledge a man who thinks yelling at water is a viable immigration strategy. Canada, visible across the blue distance, maintains its signature politeness by not sending a boat, a message, or even a sympathetic shrug. After the G7 fiasco, they’ve collectively decided he’s about as welcome as a rogue leaf blower at a meditation retreat.

Frumpy demands the lake split.
The lake declines.
Frumpy insists.
The lake sends a wave that hits him square in the shins—nature’s version of a diplomatic memo titled Please Stop.

By now, the beach has quietly rearranged itself, forming a respectful perimeter around him the way one does around a man arguing with geography. Even the gulls have opted out.

No, Mr. Frumpy isn’t parting Lake Huron.
Lake Huron is simply letting him tire himself out, the way a wise parent lets a child discover gravity on their own.

08/02/2026

Along the edges of the oceanfront beaches, you’ll find these little wooden stands—leaning just enough to make you wonder whether the tide or the carpenter is to blame. Each one proudly offers a wide variety of fresh pizza and drinks. The menu is simple: pizza, pizza, and—if you’re still hungry—more pizza, accompanied by a drink that may or may not have ever met a fruit.

The whole scene sits along the East Coast of the Atlantic Ocean, where the air smells like salt, sunscreen, and the faint hope that today’s sunburn won’t be as bad as yesterday’s. The coastal streets grow busy as tourists inch their cars forward, all of them waiting for their turn at the altar of cheese and pepperoni. Some stand in line, some lean on railings, and some stare longingly at the soft‑cooked dough emerging from the ovens as if it were a religious experience.

Mark Twain once said that hunger is the handmaiden of genius, and if that’s true, these beachside pizza stands are doing their part to elevate the collective intellect—one slice at a time. Folks wait so long for their order that by the time they reach the counter, they’ve had enough time to contemplate life, the ocean, and whether patience truly is a virtue or just a polite word for suffering.

Still, when that warm slice finally arrives—cheese stretching like taffy in a tug‑of‑war—you can’t help but feel that the waiting was worth it. After all, nothing teaches a person humility quite like standing in line behind a family of six debating whether pepperoni counts as a vegetable.

06/27/2026

Statues embody the beauty, history, and values a community chooses to honor. They invite reflection, connect us to shared stories, and remind us of the artistry and ideals that shape our world.

06/13/2026

Ms. Mya’s point of view, on most issues!

05/22/2026