Allow me to explain.

Experience, they say, comes in all shapes and sizes—mine just happens to be rotund and extra-large.

The seeds of that expertise were planted in August 1995 in St. Louis, where as a freshman in college I learned firsthand about the Freshman 15. (I also learned there was no need to stop after freshman year or at 15.)

Fast forward to June 2026, the moment when Europeans visiting the US for the World Cup are discovering their own version of personal growth.

It’s called the FIFA 15, as in the 15-pound weight gain that comes with a brief jaunt to the States.

The key ingredients are myriad, including but not limited to:

• Ranch dressing
• The Big Gulp
• Free refills
• Free chips and salsa
• Deep-fried Oreos
• Waffle House
• Buc-ee’s
• A rental car

Blogging, of course, comes with the option to embrace the role of contrarian. And when the blog claims to demystify the Rust Belt, that option becomes a mandate.

So last week, rather than tap the paper airplane on Instagram and share the FIFA 15 meme, I set out to poke holes in the stereotype.

I started an hour west, exploring the culinary traditions a majestic city on Lake Erie had gifted the world.

The first involved thinly-sliced, rare roast beef loaded on a kummelweck roll, itself coated with coarse salt and caraway seeds and dipped in the jus from the roast. The condiment of choice was creamy horseradish sauce.*

I’m no nutritionist, but I had a hunch this delicacy couldn’t be found in the health foods aisle.

To further explore the hypothesis, I moved on to another dish.

Item number two revolved around deep-fried chicken wings tossed in a cayenne pepper hot sauce…and butter. The condiment in this case was blue cheese dressing.**

Dejected, but not defeated, I returned home.

Rochester, after all, had always been the classier city, the one defined by intellect and sophistication. Surely, the FIFA 15 wouldn’t hold up to the gastronomic offerings of the Flower City.

That assumption landed me on this recipe: Two hot dogs (or cheeseburgers), macaroni salad, home fries, and baked beans, all topped with chopped onions, mustard, and spicy meat sauce.***

I stared at my phone and slowly opened Instagram.

I located the heart, comments, repost button, and paper airplane.

And one by one, I pressed them all.

Because while I might have issues with pushing a stereotype, I have no concerns about spreading the truth.

—

*Beef on weck

**Buffalo wings

***The Garbage Plate

The post Why I Love the FIFA 15 appeared first on ComposeMD.

Te estoy hablando a ti

Toi, qui penses que nous sommes stupides

Here in North America

Hablamos tres idiomas

Combien de langues parles-tu?

By three I refer to the most common ones

Porque hay muchos más

Comme tu le sais

Anyway, this is about the World Cup

El torneo debería jugarse aqui

C’est logique

Because the world already lives here

Italianos, Alemanes, los de Irlanda

La moitié de l’Asie vit ici

There are way more Chinese restaurants than McDonald’s

Prefiero comer sopa agridulce que una Big Mac

Et n’oublie pas les samoussas

If you think you understand this place based on the news

No tienes ni idea de lo que hablas

C’est la vérité

No one even knows what American means

Aparte de vivir aqui

Et c’est le meilleur aspect

There are no rules

Excepto las que hay que romper

La tradition n’est qu’une façade

Sure we’re full of idiots

¿Pero no es cierto en todas partes?

Je viens de visiter Paris—je sais

Our leader is a lunatic

¿No son todos?

Justin Trudeau et Katy Perry?!

Yeah we eat too much and die young

¿Quien quiere vivir para siempre?

Je vais chez Buc-ee’s

So quit reading the damn headlines

Experimenta el país po ti mismo

Dis-moi ce que tu en penses

If you hate the place

No estarás solo

C’est une passion nationale

Just remember—the US is worldly as hell

Y el mundo es un lugar feo

Oú est-il beau?

English Translation

The US is worldly as hell

I’m talking to you

You, who thinks we’re stupid

Here in North America

We speak three languages

How many languages do you speak?

And by three, I mean the most common ones

Because there are many more

As you know

Anyway, this is about the World Cup

The tournament should be played here

It makes sense

Because the world already lives here

Italians, Germans, the Irish

Half of Asia lives here

There are more Chinese restaurants than McDonald’s

I’d rather eat hot and sour soup than a Big Mac

And don’t forget the samosas

If you think you understand this place based on the news

You have no idea what you’re talking about

That’s the truth

No one even knows what American means

Other than living here

And that’s the best part

There are no rules

Except the ones meant to be broken

Tradition is just a façade

Sure, we’re full of idiots

But isn’t that true everywhere?

I just visited Paris—I know

Our leader is a lunatic

Aren’t they all?

Justin Trudeau and Katy Perry?!

Yeah, we eat too much and die young

Who wants to live forever?

I’m going to Buc-ee’s

So quit reading the damn headlines

Experience the country for yourself

Tell me what you think

If you hate the place

You won’t be alone

It’s a national pastime

Just remember—the US is worldly as hell

And the world is an ugly place

Or is it beautiful?

The post The US Is Worldly As Hell appeared first on ComposeMD.

First, it didn’t.

And second, it didn’t.

Let’s start with the first one.

The World Cup—as in the 2026 version—boasts 16 host cities scattered across a trio of countries.

Three are in Mexico, eleven in the US, and two in Canada.

Located at 43°39’09″N 79°22’54″W, along the northwestern shore of Lake Ontario, is a place called Toronto.

Six games will be played there.

So like I said above, it didn’t.

And now for the second one, the American one, if you will.

To arrive at a conclusion, we have no choice but to access a list of US metro areas by population.

Ten of the 11 US host metros—New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, Houston, Atlanta, Miami, Philadelphia, Boston, San Francisco, and Seattle—are among the top 15 American metros by population. (The outlier, at number 31, is Kansas City.)

The five metros in the top 15 that didn’t make the cut include Chicago (at number three) and Detroit (at number 14).

Anti-Great Lakes bias?

The answer, among other places, can be found in Chapter 14 of Soccernomics—the 2026 World Cup Edition, of course.

There, authors Simon Kuper and Stefan Szymanski expose the myth that hosting a mega-event is a sound financial investment. In most cases, the expenditure involved in preparing for the party far exceeds any economic return.

In the case of the World Cup, things are even worse, what with FIFA’s lack of transparency and its unreasonable demands, whether they pertain to playing surface, seating capacity, public transit, or whatever.

Sure, there might be a “feel-good” factor, though we can call it what it is—a line of cocaine.

American cities, particularly those that have been around the block, are quite aware of this reality. Short-term gains, which might not even exist, can translate into long-term losses.

Great Lakes cities, the likes of Chicago and Detroit, have seen a thing or two. In other words, they ain’t drinking the Kool-Aid.

That’s why in 2017, Detroit opted out of consideration to be a 2026 World Cup host.

In 2018, Chicago did the same.

As such, the real question—if anyone is still asking—is why the Great Lakes gave the World Cup the shaft.

And the answer key, as you know, lies with FIFA.

The post Why the World Cup Gave the Great Lakes the Shaft appeared first on ComposeMD.

It’s complicated.

It’s the sport for everyone, except here, where it’s for wealthy suburban kids.

And it’s the global obsession, except here, where it’s a niche curiosity.

There are the Americans who don’t watch, unable to tolerate the dearth of scoring and the mysterious timekeeping.

And there are the ones who do watch, partly as a flex of their worldliness—they usually ride bikes and claim to like jazz music, too.

But the greatest complexity of all, the one that presumably exposes the dumb American (said to live somewhere in the Rust Belt), is what to call the sport in the first place.

Don’t blame us.

Blame the Brits.

Oh, and blame AI for the fact that I know this.

The prompt was rather simple: What is the origin of the term soccer?

The answer, scraped from a delicate blend of Britannica, Time, Wikipedia, Quora, and, of course, Reddit, changed my life.

In 1863, as Americans had taken to killing each other during the Civil War, the English had taken on a more pressing matter—standardizing the rules of their games.

To differentiate what would become two key sports, they established official names:

• Rugby Football
• Association Football

Later in the century, students at the University of Oxford developed their own slang, shortening words and adding the suffix -er.

Rugby football became rugger.

Association football became soccer (in lieu of asser, I believe).

For years, the Brits used soccer and football interchangeably to describe the sport of FIFA. Meanwhile, countries they had spawned—like the US, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, and South Africa—began developing their own versions of football. To avoid confusion, these countries stuck to soccer when referring to the British export.

(In other words, the dumb American is no dumber than the Canadian or Australian, at least in this regard.)

In the 1980s, realizing that their empire had collapsed and their global significance was dwindling, especially relative to that of the Americans, the Brits began a campaign to bash the American use of the term soccer.

And that got me to the next prompt:

Who’s dumb now?

The post Stop Blaming the Dumb American for “Soccer” appeared first on ComposeMD.

How do I know?

C’mon now—Google Analytics and Instagram Insights don’t lie.

But perhaps you’ll listen to LoveEXPLORING, the travel-lifestyle publication owned by a UK-based digital publisher and frequently syndicated on MSN Travel.

In their words:

Cities are often celebrated for their energy and culture, but many are just as visually striking as the world’s most scenic villages and landscapes. With iconic skylines, historic landmarks, and impressive architecture set against dramatic backdrops, these urban destinations offer a different kind of beauty.

[Come] discover the most beautiful cities on Earth…

Their list—68 cities long—represents every continent (minus Antarctica) and does not discriminate by population.

There are the usual suspects—you know, like Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Sydney, Australia; Prague, Czechia; Paris, France; and Rome, Italy.

And there are several dark horses, like Muscat, Oman; Dubrovnik, Croatia; Khiva, Uzbekistan; Nuuk, Greenland; and Dakar, Senegal.

American burgs, of course, make an appearance among the world’s most beautiful cities—nine of them to be exact.

You’ve heard of New York City, that place with the iconic skyline, Central Park, and so on.

And you’ve heard of San Francisco, home to the Bay, Golden Gate Bridge, and whacked out streets.

New Orleans, with its French Quarter, needs no introduction.

Then there’s Charleston, South Carolina, the town with history, Southern charm, and the Atlantic Ocean.

Speaking of that ocean, there’s also Portland, Maine, whose maritime past is not really past.

If you’re a true history buff, you’ve been to St. Augustine, Florida, the oldest continually inhabited European settlement in the contiguous United States.

If you’ve driven along the California coast, you’ve undoubtedly been to the striking Santa Barbara, where no picture can do justice.

And if you’ve ever done an Alaskan cruise, you’ve stepped foot in Ketchikan, where there’s no shortage of scenery and Indigenous culture.

But let me ask you this question.

Have you ever been to Cleveland?*

—

*According to LoveEXPLORING, the home of rock ’n’ roll is more quaint ’n’ charming, really. Cleveland makes the most of its gorgeous spot on Lake Erie with a picturesque waterfront area, home to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

The rest of the city is pretty too, with well-maintained historic buildings including the impressive Arcade—an ornate, glass-roofed 1890s shopping center in downtown.

The post This Is One of the World’s Most Beautiful Cities?! appeared first on ComposeMD.

I was supposed to be working—or doing the dishes. For that matter, anything else would have sufficed.

But as a writer, even of the uncompensated variety, daydreaming is a prerequisite for rolling the pen on paper.

And on this particular day, the thoughts took on a life of their own.

December 2, 1859. Charles Town, West Virginia. The place was still part of Virginia, whose western cousin didn’t exist yet. That’s when the abolitionist John Brown was hanged for raiding a federal armory in Harpers Ferry. So much for the slave rebellion he was trying to incite.

Wait, whatever happened to Angie Everhart? Remember her—the redhead model who was in that Schwarzenegger movie Last Action Hero (and a ton of other stuff)?

I briefly looked at the blank computer screen and noticed the song playing in the background.

Chrissie Hynde did have a fantastic voice.

That show Providence was pretty good. I wonder what Melina Kanakaredes is up to these days.

I looked back at the still-blank screen.

How cool would it be to win a Pulitzer Prize? Rita Dove won the Pulitzer for Poetry. I think she was the United States Poet Laureate or something.

She must have been like the LeBron James of poetry.

Man, those NBA Finals between LeBron and Steph Curry were so good.

I stared at the computer and noted the music again.

The Black Keys weren’t very good live. I still like them though.

That was nuts in second grade when we all huddled around the TV in the classroom to watch the launch of the Space Shuttle Challenger. And then they just ushered us out of the room without saying a word. Poor Judith Resnik.

James Harrison was undrafted?! He was such a dominant linebacker for the Steelers.

My wife called and asked what I was doing.

“Uh, making money online,” I blurted out, hoping she wouldn’t check the bank account any time soon.

I sat back and wondered.

Had I just had the daydream from hell?

Or was it from Akron, Ohio?*

—

*Everyone mentioned was born in and/or spent spent significant time in Akron.

The post My Daydream From Hell appeared first on ComposeMD.

First came the 2003 novel courtesy Lauren Weisberger, inspired by her stint working as a personal assistant to Anna Wintour, the editor of Vogue.

Next came the 2006 film and its all-star cast: Meryl Streep (Miranda Priestly), Anne Hathaway (Andy Sachs), Emily Blunt (Emily Charlton), and Stanley Tucci (Nigel Kipling).

And then, in 2026, appeared the sequel, sporting the same quartet and dominating the box office in the same way.

But what you don’t know is the impact this fiction has had on yours truly.

The story began in March 2020, just as most of the world was dealing with a viral pandemic.

I, on the other hand, was grappling with the decision of a lifetime—should I accept the role as personal assistant to the editor of ComposeMD?

His reputation preceded him, and I don’t mean that in a flattering way. But like Andy Sachs, I viewed the role as a stepping stone to something greater—like, say, a writer for ComposeMD.

Several months and one COVID vaccine later, I took the job.

And that’s when the demands began.

They started with the lunch requests.

Two bean burritos from Taco Bell—and it had to be the one on Jefferson Road in Henrietta.

That, of course, was just the appetizer. From there, I had to drive to Naan-Tastic to secure the all-important samosa chaat.

And then came the miracle—getting it to him still crunchy. I’ll never forget the time the outside of one samosa had lost its crisp. It was back to Jefferson Road for another order, this time with a side of waffle fries from Chick-fil-A just to spite me.

But the food, as you might imagine, paled in comparison to the fashion.

They say The Devil Wears Prada, but I’m pretty sure he wears Old Navy.

It was one thing to have to dress like the man—hoodies, sweatpants, and hideous T-shirts.

But to have to dress the man—that’s when I knew my days were limited.

The sweatshirts, needless to say, always had to be XXL. The pants—I never knew if they should go below the gut, above the gut, or on the gut.

And he always insisted on that dreadful yellow T-shirt, the one with E=MC².

Anyway, along the way, I was asked to accomplish the impossible, like the time he asked for an advance copy of some Rust Belt Employment PDF to read to his kids at bedtime. Or the time he had me cancel an entire school band concert because he wanted to go to happy hour at the Distillery instead.

My thanks for those wins was a trip to Fashion Week in Batavia—he threatened to blacklist me from Batavia Downs if I didn’t attend.

Finally, one morning after months of abuse, when I saw his incoming call, I tossed my phone into the Erie Canal.

When I landed my next gig, my new boss told me that the editor of ComposeMD had said I was the biggest disappointment he ever had—and that my new boss would be an idiot not to order the samosa chaat.

The post The Devil Wears Prada—and Old Navy appeared first on ComposeMD.

After all, it was the New York newspaper that incited me to take action.

On May 22, 2026, in between doing nothing, I discovered that the Journal had published a piece called “Dad Books Are a Dying Breed”.

The gist—sales of so-called “serious nonfiction” books, particularly the print versions, are down and out.

To blame is the smorgasbord factor, i.e. the mix of podcasts, Substack newsletters, Netflix documentaries, and so on that sates the desire of men to know boring stuff.

In the mix, of course, is a societal shift away from plain text as a means of consuming information.

And that gets me to the Great Lakes reading list.

What should a text-obsessed middle-aged man confronted with an uncomfortable reality about the future of text do?

Simple—push more text.

If you think that makes me fuddy-duddy, just wait for the books I recommend.

The Death and Life of the Great Lakes by Dan Egan

Bro—as in Egan—can write. In fact, the former reporter for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel can write so well that he’s been a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize on multiple occasions.

If you only read one book on the Great Lakes, this should be the pick. Meticulously researched and fantastically readable, the blend of science, history, and storytelling amounts to a biography of the lakes, with special attention to how human actions like canal building, shipping, and farming have paved the way for invasive species and toxic algal blooms, thereby threatening one of the world’s most important natural resources.

In the final notes, Egan writes: This book is the sum of more than a decade of reporting…

It shows.

The Living Great Lakes: Searching for the Heart of the Inland Seas by Jerry Dennis

Dennis has made a name for himself as a nature writer, and this is perhaps his magnum opus.

Despite already being a walking encyclopedia regarding the lakes, the Michigan native set out to find an overarching narrative that could tie his knowledge together.

Enter a six-week journey on the Malabar, a schooner that in the spring of 2000 would take Dennis through his beloved inland seas.

The result is a passionate memoir, one peppered with enough historical, scientific, and nautical nuggets to make you an expert of the lacustrine variety.

The Gales of November: The Untold Story of the Edmund Fitzgerald by John U. Bacon

Bacon, another Michigan native, has carved out a career as a sports writer. But in this masterpiece, he stepped out of his comfort zone to take a deep dive into one of the most haunting shipwrecks in American history.

The 1975 sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald on Lake Superior has inspired safety regulations, an iconic song, and a world-class beer, but perhaps its greatest legacy is having spawned this chronicle of human tragedy.

Along the way, Bacon shines a light on the iron ore mining, Great Lakes shipping, and steel production that created some of the most vibrant cities the country has known.

Note: YouTube videos and Instagram Reels are cheaper and less time-consuming.

The post Your Mandatory Great Lakes Reading List appeared first on ComposeMD.

And by special, I mean weird.

Hear me out, even though I’m sure you already agree.

There’s this city on a river, across which lies another country.

Census data tells the burg’s story, if you’re willing to listen.

In 1820, there were four figures—1,422 to be exact.

A century later, there were six—993,678.

And thirty years after that, in 1950, there were seven—1,849,568. Only four American cities were more peopled.

That’s when, in the parlance of the medical profession, began the taper.

Every ten years, the dose was decreased by varying proportions.

• 9.7% to start
• Then another 9.5%
• Then a generous 20.4%
• Next a drop of 14.6%
• And finally, a more gentle 7.5%

It was the year 2000, and the figures were back down to six—951,270.

Some yearned for a maintenance dose, a stop-the-bleeding moment if you will.

But the taper continued.

• 25%
• 10.5%

That landed the river city in a year better known for a viral pandemic—by then, the blight was old news, fodder for comedians, bloggers, and bankruptcy lawyers.

The number, at that point, was down to 639,111.

Mercifully, another decade would have to pass to officially know the next dose reduction.

But the hints were screaming—the US Census Bureau calls them population estimates.

2021: 635,046

2022: 634,219

2023: 637,452

Eyebrows were raised.

2024: 644,035

Heads were turned.

2025: 649, 095

Tears were shed.

The city on the river, the one gazing upon another nation, is celebrating Easter.

Because just like Jesus, Detroit is rising once again.

The post This Census Data Will Make You Cry appeared first on ComposeMD.