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Blog of Jim Flynn
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AuthorJim Flynn is a humorist, writer and novelist. He is available for speaking engagements. To contact email: [email protected] Archives
March 2026
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 One day you wake up and realize something disturbing. Every company in America now wants a monthly subscription. Music. Movies. Cloud storage. Coffee delivery. Your car. At this point I’m expecting my toaster to send me a message: “Your bread access has expired. Please upgrade to Premium Toast.” And then I realized… The smartest subscription business ever invented is that emergency button people wear around their necks. Think about it. They don’t sell the button. They sell the monthly panic plan. Some guy in a boardroom pitched this idea and immediately retired to a swimming pool. Which is how I ended up writing a short comedy book called Press The Button. It’s about aging, technology, ridiculous inventions, and the strange modern world where every device wants a password and every company wants to bill you forever. And my experiences writing about that stuff. The book started as an audiobook and now exists as a small paperback you can read in one sitting. Because attention spans today are roughly the length of a microwave beep. If you'd like to check it out: www.amazon.com/dp/B0GR9HLFDK And if something goes wrong… Press The Button.  Photo of a satisfied reader.
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Coming Attractions2/28/2026  Something Is About to Happen
In about a week, the paperback and eBook versions of Press The Button will quietly enter the world. I say “quietly” because I’m not renting a blimp. But they’re coming. If you’ve been following along, you know this started as an audiobook experiment. A small, compact, slightly unhinged idea about modern life, attention spans, buttons we should press, and why some business models are basically emotional blackmail with a subscription. Now it’s in print. You can hold it. You can underline it. The audio version will take a while longer. You can give the book as a gift to someone who already has too many mugs. And it makes a fantastic birthday card replacement. It's PG-13 Rated. Would I love it if people bought it? Of course. Would I survive if you didn’t? Yes. But buy it, you're going to laugh. Meanwhile, In A Darker Room …While Press The Button is stretching and getting ready for daylight, I’ve been deep inside the next JR Johnson novel. And when I say “deep,” I mean I occasionally look up and don’t remember what day it is. JR is back. Toni Anne is back. Gabrielle is back. Barbara Jean is back Wishbone is back. The stakes are high enough that even I’m a little uncomfortable. This one is leaner. Sharper. Less me trying to be Tom Clancy and more me trying to be… well… dangerous. That’s where most of my energy is going right now. Comedy is fun. But JR is where the knives are. Mark Your Calendar (Or Don’t, I’ll Remind You) The formal announcement for Press The Button will go out on March 7th. That’s when I’ll do the full, proper, civilized rollout instead of this casual “by the way, here’s a book” whisper campaign. Then on March 7th, we press the button. Here's the back cover text: PRESS THE BUTTON WORDS OF PRAISE FROM FAMOUS AUTHORS.* “The greatest humour since Hamlet.” W. Shakespeare, Dramatist “Finally another funny guy from Connecticut.” M. Twain, Writer “我不会说英语” (I don’t speak English) Confucius, Philosopher “He makes fun of Stoics.” M. Aurelius, Roman Emperor, Stoic. * Not independently verified. ************************************** Questions or comments: [email protected]
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Pickleball and The End of Human Decency2/21/2026  A few years ago, here's what I knew about Pickleball: 1) Everybody I knew who played Pickleball got hurt, a 100% casualty rate. Many required orthopedic surgery. 2) Every retired lawyer in Florida had filed a legal brief opposing the sport. I found it all amusing. After all, isn’t it just tennis for people who can’t run? How bad could the sound of a paddle hitting a plastic ball be? PLOCK, PLOCK, PLOCK. That was my introduction to the sound of live Pickleball. I was playing golf, and a couple tennis courts next to the 18th fairway had been converted to Pickleball...that noise does carry. “PLOCK” does not capture the rage producing sound of a pickleball being struck by a paddle. Many have tried to describe the sound, for example, “ a large Tupperware container being struck by a stick.” One actual legal brief states Pickleball sounds are: “Acoustic assault. An unreasonable interference with a right common to the general public...” To put it in perspective, three PLOCKS in a row are irritating. Twenty-five consecutive PLOCKS are enough to make Gandhi renounce non-violence. Imagine how much fun it is to own a condo right next to the Pickleball court. Pickleball players take criticism from outsiders with the objectivity of, say, a parent watching their kid play Little League baseball. The battle lines are drawn. It's like the cattle ranchers vs. the sheep herders in an old Western. All this animosity has created shouting matches, pushing and shoving, fistfights. But it’s not just condo owners fighting with Pickleball players, but also Pickleball-on-Pickleball mayhem. I know I’m supposed to say there’s no justification for violence, but I gotta be honest...there are very few things as entertaining as watching old people fight. And who said I was a responsible person? Imagine my delight when I saw a headline that 20 geriatric Pickleball players had been arrested for brawling. Turned out, there were 20 people involved, but only two arrests. Disappointing, but one of the arrests was of a man for punching an opposing woman player following a lengthy expletive filled tirade, after accusing her of illegally hitting the ball. The incident did happen in Florida, our Casket of Civilization. Included in the online article were mugshots of the two unrepentant perpetrators. Florida police may develop special radio codes for Pickleball problems: There's a 10-82 in progress, could mean there are 10 eighty-two year olds fighting on a Pickleball court. The injury rate? Fits right in with my conspiracy theory that Pickleball was invented by orthopedic surgeons as a response to baby boomers aging out of skiing and tennis. Some conspiracy theories are true. It is discussed in the soon to be released book/audiobook: Press The Button. ********************************** Questions or comments to: [email protected] 
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 Did that headline grab your attention? I try to avoid politics. Not my lane. But I have been amused by all the oxygen being taken up by the reaction to Bad Bunny's Super Bowl Halftime Show. On one side you've got the right wing media hyperventilating like this was the worst thing since... the formation of the Earth. On the other, male white haired left-wing commentators are pretending that they liked Bad Bunny. Spoiler alert: They didn't. They have to say they liked the show, or become the next victims of cancel culture...forever outcast. My opinion: I despise all the Super Bowl halftime shows. I want to see the game. Even though I'm generally sitting there for at least part of the intermission extravaganza, I don't pay attention. Super Bowl XXXVIII? I was sitting on my sofa for the infamous Wardrobe Malfunction and didn't notice it. I must have been stirring the guacamole. The Super Bowl halftime shows have evolved. In the beginning it was Up With People, a group so wholesome and bland they made vanilla ice cream look like Tabasco sauce. Then the NFL started trotting out low energy over-the-hill rockers. By the time they had The Rolling Stones, I think Keith Richards was using a CPAP machine during the performance. Now the show has contemporary pop stuff. The league that fines players for excessive celebration features halftime dancing that would be considered in poor taste at a Vegas strip club. All the shows have always had this in common: the more the NFL tries to act hip, the lamer they look. It's like when Nixon grew sideburns. I'd be happy if they just eliminated the halftime show. But since this isn't going to happen, and in my upcoming book/audiobook Press The Button I discuss: How Many Kilometers Are in a Gallon?, highlighting America's rejection of how the rest of the world measures things, it gave me an idea for next year: Kid Rock and Bad Bunny in a 28 Minute Musical Salute to the Metric System. Lady Gaga could be featured as an atomic clock. She probably already has the costume. It would unite America. People from across the political spectrum would come together and demand drastic changes. Maybe the year after would feature acrobats jumping unicycles over the goal posts, monkeys in cowboy hats riding tiny motor scooters, dogs leaping through hula hoops. Be honest...wouldn't you like that better? And it could be a lot shorter. Short enough so you'd remember there was a football game to be concluded. I offer my creative services to the NFL. For a modest fee. Bonus Fact: The length of a meter is determined by how far light travels in a tiny fraction of a second, as measured by the vibration of Cesium-133 atoms. Maybe Lady Gaga could explain this in a duet with Bill Nye The Science Guy. Breaking News: 20 Geriatric Pickleball Players in Florida were arrested for brawling as I write this. Guess the topic for next week's blog! Questions or comments: [email protected] ************************ Coming soon: - 
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 MRI Land America’s most irritating sounds: 1) MRI machine 2) Pickleball 3) Skateboarding For years skateboarding was number one, but has been recently overtaken, which must be a big disappointment to teenage creeps everywhere. Some of you have never had an MRI. I can tell. You look innocent… and maybe, still employed. An MRI is not a medical test. It’s a psychological experiment. It has taken over the top spot because it is irritating...and terrifying. They put headphones on you… and say, “Just relax.” Then slide you into a metal tube like a defective torpedo. Relax?? I’m in a coffin with surround sound. And that got me thinking about the former champion of irritating sound… The most irritating sound in America used to be teenage skateboarders grinding metal trucks down concrete steps. That SKRRAAAAPE–WHACK noise. It is vital to be able to subject adults to the noise. Well, according to scientific research I completely invented, MRI noises, and the sounds of pickleball have officially overtaken skateboarding as the most irritating sounds in the nation. Pickleball is annoying — fine. Same rage producing plastic thud over and over. But an MRI? Hundreds of different sounds. Starts like a washing machine arguing with a UFO. And just when you think, “Okay… I’m getting used to this…” It goes silent… way too long. You’re isolated...in this tube... You start thinking: “Did they go to lunch and forget I'm in here?” “Was there a nuclear war?” “Am I the last guy… in a tube?” Then—BLAST! They sound an electronic alarm, based on the klaxon the Exxon Valdez activated when they realized too late they were running aground. But louder. You’re lying there thinking, “I hope they find something… because I never want to do this again. Tell me I glow in the dark. Something.” Even though skateboarding is now third on the list of irritation, That hasn’t stopped the kids. They don’t skateboard for the joy of movement. They skateboard for the sound. Cities built them beautiful skate parks. Cities didn’t get it. The skateboards are just a medium. The real joy is irritating grown-ups. You can’t do that at a park, so... The skateboarders headed right back downtown to a bank with marble steps because nothing says “Rebel Without a Clue” like risking your life to annoy people who already hate their jobs. Anyhow...I’ve had some experience in MRIs...but they’re expensive...and medical professionals, having no sense of humor, discourage people from showing up unannounced to try the MRI for recreational purposes. So to give everybody access to the MRI experience... I have a solution. I’m opening a theme park. MRI Land. For a fraction of the cost of a real MRI -- and none of the medical benefit -- you get shoved into a metal tube and blasted with MRI noises for an hour. No diagnostic equipment. No results. But when you come out? Waiting in line at the DMV will feel like a vacation. There’s a minimum age requirement at MRI Land. We don’t want the skateboard dudes in there -- they might actually enjoy it. To get in, you must present either: an AARP card, a list of your current medications, or proof of a recent colonoscopy. MRI Land. “We make the rest of your life seem great.” I'm thinking t-shirts and hats. **************************** Questions or comments: [email protected] Coming soon: 
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Pretending to Work While Watching TV1/31/2026  The Cookie Channel Financial TV is not news. It’s ESPN for rich guys. Same graphics. Same urgency. Nobody actually knows what’s going to happen. You ever watch CNBC for ten minutes? A stock has a green arrow. Now it has a red arrow. This must be important. They’ll put dramatic music under it like we just launched a missile. Meanwhile, every financial advisor in America says: “You’ve hired us to steer the ship. Long-term planning. Don’t even look at your statement until your grandchildren can drive.” They say short-term moves don’t matter. “Noise,” they call it. Then they spend eight hours watching the noise on a giant flat screen in their office. That’s like a nutritionist saying, “Sugar is terrible,” then watching the Cookie Channel all day. Because CNBC is hypnotic. All the colors. All the hype. It’s a football game — and your favorite team plays every day. There is no Long-Term Financial Planning Network. It would be so boring it would make C-SPAN 2 look like Raiders of the Lost Ark. And let’s address the production decisions. CNBC has good-looking women in tight clothes. So for the sake of gender equality, I propose an immediate change: The men have to wear outfits just as tight. I want to see some of those paunchy middle-aged guys in spandex. You might want to do some sit-ups, Joe. They’d look like a ’70s rock band that went on one too many reunion tours. When CNBC isn’t throwing up flashing graphics designed to cause sensory overload, they interview CEOs. Here’s the inside scoop from every CEO: “My company is great.” Just once I’d like to hear a CEO say: “Well...I’m a nepo baby. The board of directors is a bunch of drunks. I have dyslexia and read the numbers backwards. I recommend viewers sell this stock before something terrible happens.” That… I’d watch. ************************** Important Announcement: Some of you asked for the paperback version of Press The Button when the audio comes out. Since it’s already written — and I enjoy doing things the easy way — I’m doing it. Because the book was written to be performed aloud, I’ll tweak it a bit so readers don’t feel like they need to applaud between paragraphs. And it will have several bonus chapters that are not in the spoken version. Real life has also thrown me a couple of curveballs lately. Just enough to remind me I am not the main character in the universe. The novel is still coming. Questions or comments? Please click: [email protected] 
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Hot Dimes...Fool Your Friends!1/24/2026  Another change in plans. Very exciting. And, frankly, designed to satisfy a public waiting for something—anything—to cheer up 2026. Due to a bunch of factors that would bore you into a medically-induced coma, here’s the new plan for Press The Button: 1) First release: An audio comedy special. Soon I’ll be releasing Press The Button as a downloadable audio comedy special you can purchase directly from my website. You’ll be able to listen on your phone, in your car, on your tablet, or on your computer. And for you digital knuckle-draggers… yes: there will also be an actual CD you can load into any CD player still alive in North America. 2) Later release: Paperback and eBook on Amazon. After the radio version, a written version will be released on Amazon. I’m billing this as a Comedy Special, and here’s the beginning: ******************************** Dedication This special is dedicated to my grandmother, Rose. Because without her… I might’ve become a normal person. Outwardly...She was a loving, old-fashioned grandmother-- always wore a hat in public. Not a Bubba Gump baseball hat. An old lady bonnet with a lethal hat pin sharp enough she could’ve shanked a guy in a prison yard. Maybe she did. I didn’t know her before I was born. Beneath that exterior she had a subversive sense of humor. She kept a cartoon in a scrapbook. New York street vendor. Sign reads: HOT DIMES — FOOL YOUR FRIENDS! When people came over, she’d show it off like it was the Mona Lisa. Most of them didn’t get the joke. I did. And I’ve been selling hot dimes ever since. So Gram… thanks for nothing. I mean, you gave your grandson the gift of wanting to be a comedian. Is that a gift… or a curse? I would’ve preferred a trust fund. Anyhow—here we go. Welcome to Press The Button. I’m driving the bus—everybody sit down.  If you want to be notified when it’s out—especially the CD version for the proud non-digital citizens—sign up here: [email protected]
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Elevator Eavesdropping1/17/2026  Before the excerpt from Press The Button, this week's BREAKING NEWS: A reader has notified me that The Hallmark Channel is available in France. It is streamed in English with French subtitles. The Hallmark Channel's A Pickleball Christmas was shown in France. Apparently French has a word for pickleball racquet. It translates to: Giant ping pong paddle of shame. Some other time I'll get into my conspiracy theory that pickleball was invented by orthopedic surgeons as a way to increase business. ****************************** An excerpt from Press The Button: When I was working as a stockbroker, er, financial advisor, I needed to have an outlet for my creativity. Since I couldn't sit around writing all day, I had to pick my spots. One venue I enjoyed was the elevator.. They say you really get to know a person in a foxhole. Or after seven years of marriage. Or during eighteen holes of golf. I say-- just take the elevator with me. It’s quicker. And nobody gets trench foot. I especially love it when I catch someone eavesdropping. Because I immediately go into a stage whisper-- loud enough for the eavesdropper to hear—and say something like: “Spielberg called again last night. Wants help writing Act Two. I haven’t worked with him since Jurassic Park.” Or-- “And it turns out, I didn’t have Ebola after all. I don’t even need to wear a mask anymore.” (cough a little) Or "My therapist says I'm making progress. No panic attacks in elevators... almost a month." I call it a talent. Human Resources used to call it "a recurring pattern." I might launch an online course: Elevator Improv 101. I’m available for birthdays, bar mitzvahs, and elevator-themed improv festivals. Pro tip-- after you drop your line, exit at the next floor. Unless the eavesdropper does too. As my grandma always said, “Leave them wanting more.” She was often asked to take the stairs.  Want to sign up for this blog every week?
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Writer Industrial Complex1/10/2026  This week's excerpt from Press The Button. ********************* Remember these ads? Soft sell: “We’re looking for people who like to draw.” Right next to a picture of Norman Rockwell. Like Norman himself was running HR. Hard sell: A photo of an artist at an easel, looking straight at you. Caption: “Fed up? With your present job? Your pay? Your future?” Which—yes. Obviously. That’s why I’m reading magazine ads like they’re fortune cookies. Nobody’s thinking, “No thanks. I love my current job walking behind circus elephants with a shovel. It was worth it, four years of majoring in Art History.” These ads were for the Famous Artists School of Westport, Connecticut. Westport had a vibe. You couldn’t throw a Frisbee without hitting a famous artist-- or a guy who told you he was a famous artist. He had opinions. Mostly about the use of shadows. The Famous Artists School had a selective admissions policy. If you sent them money… you were selected. They offered mail-order art lessons and a big stack of expensive books. But that wasn’t what they were really selling. They were selling hope. Hope is the most profitable product ever invented. Right after gym memberships. The Famous Artists School peaked in the 1960s. Then technology changed. Drawing faded. So now we write novels. Because writing-- isn't threatened by technology, right? And there's not much competition. Except for six million people writing vampire romances. And Artificial Intelligence. The modern version of the Famous Artists School is what I call The Writer Industrial Complex. There’s a lot of money in writing. I know because I’ve personally contributed. The money isn’t made by people writing books. It’s made by people explaining—very confidently-- the easy hacks to writing success. We’ll get into that. As soon as I finish this webinar I already paid for: Unlocking Your Seven-Figure Author Mindset. Actual writing not included. Well, you better be successful writing. Because the circus went out of business. And now the elephant is writing a dystopian vampire romance. *********************** As long as you're here: Be Sincere Even When You Don't Mean It is having a resurgence in Australia. Why Australia? I don't know. But haven't you always wanted to be like Crocodile Dundee? Take a look, over at Amazon. The audiobook version features terrific narration by Gary Williams. also available in paperback and eBook versions. just click on the image below 
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 Before my weekly passage from Press The Button, BREAKING NEWS: In my never ending quest to see if the Hallmark Channel has run out of movies with the word Christmas in the title, I stumbled across a real made for TV movie called: A Pickleball Christmas. I watched a bit of it, and can honestly say it is the best Pickleball themed holiday movie I've ever seen. When Cassidy Winters, a small town girl who left to become a big deal real estate agent in Chicago returns home to help her grandmother who broke her hip while playing pickleball at Golden Paddles Village, complications arise. Cassidy's old high school flame, Luke Marlowe, stuck around and is now a gym teacher and pickleball entrepreneur. Could romance be rekindled under the watchful eyes of the geriatric pickleball ladies? Really? Yeah really. I'm not making this up. I am not capable of making this up. Golden Paddles Village? ******************************* And here's an excerpt from Press The Button that would not make a Hallmark movie: The December Roll Call I do a lot of jokes about dying. It’s my defense mechanism. Some guys yell. Some guys drink. Me? I make celebrity death my hobby. Keeps me busy. It’s too cold now for golf. And it’s the end of the year, which means one thing-- the big They Died This Year montage of celebrity obituaries. Every year I’m sitting there thinking, “Wait… this guy was alive? Since when?” They start with the big names-- movie stars, athletes, celebrity felons. But once they run out of those, they start scraping the bottom of the pop-culture barrel. Pretty soon it’s people you forgot ever existed. Like Zippy Mitchell. Remember him? He played the bilge pump operator on The Love Boat. A role so minor they could’ve replaced him with an actual bilge pump and nobody would’ve noticed. And every time I see a name like that, I wonder-- How does a guy like that make a living for the fifty years since that show ended? Did he invest wisely? Marry into a wealthy plumbing family? ********************* Thought: The term Golden Paddles Village should become a euphemism for the place celebrities go, who are, well, featured in the year end montage. As In: Coming up, immortal celebrities who are now playing eternally at Golden Paddles Village.  Remember: I write novels too. Darker, same voice, more bodies hit the floor. Stay tuned. Questions or comments? click here to reach me: [email protected] |
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