David McElroy

When I saw a friend tonight, she called me over with a conspiratorial look on her face. She looked around to make sure nobody else was listening. She wanted my opinion.

She told me she’s met a new man. She was excited about it. Almost giddy. I asked the typical questions about the man and where they met. She eagerly told me how much happier she is to have him to talk with as they’re getting to know each other.

She sounded like a 16-year-old who had just discovered love.

There’s only one problem. My friend is married. It’s a terrible marriage. They still live in the same house — with children — and there’s been a lot of talk about divorce. But she’s definitely — legally and firmly — still married.

It’s not my place to lecture someone about doing what’s right. She asked for my opinion, but I don’t think she really wanted it. I think she just wanted tacit permission to do what she wanted to do.

I outlined the issues as I saw them. I told her that if she wanted to pursue someone else, she owed it to everyone involved to finish dealing with her current situation. Otherwise, she was just going to be multiplying the drama and the stress in her life.

“You already know what to do,” I told her. “You don’t need me to tell you what’s right.”

“But this is what I want,” she said. “It makes me happy.”

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Since I’m recovering from hernia surgery, I haven’t been getting much work done in the last few days, but I couldn’t help but make a quick-and-dirty ad for a movie that I just realized we’re all living right now.

I avoid talking about politics for the most part now — simply because I don’t see any good that can come of it — but a bit of political satire can still be fun. It’s just a very basic 30-second ad for Groundhog Day 2026, starring Donald Trump.

Click here to see it on YouTube or watch it below.

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Twelve hours ago, I was lying on a hospital bed with an IV in my arm, waiting to be wheeled into surgery.

I wasn’t worried about dying. But I felt completely alone.

I was just having a hernia repaired, so I wasn’t in serious danger. Until I had a sudden abdominal obstruction late last December, I had no idea the problem was even there. Doctors told me at the time that I was fortunate that the intestine which poked through the hernia hadn’t been damaged, which would have caused serious surgery.

Even though it wasn’t considered serious, I was nervous. I’m not fond of being knocked out and cut on. An old friend who I’ve known since high school was kind enough to pick me up early Thursday morning and take me to the hospital. She sat there with me and talked as I was being prepped.

But as much as I appreciated her concern and help, I couldn’t help feeling very alone. I’ve had surgery only three times in my life — all in the last 15 years — and each time I’ve had one of these emergencies, it’s been a time when I’ve been alone in life.

As I laid there this morning having an IV inserted and having various equipment attached, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something symbolic about that. Was it just a coincidence that each of my medical emergencies have happened when I’ve been alone?

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