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Why Blogging Matters: A Personal Reflection
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The House That Heals: A Story of Acceptance and Memory
1–2 minutes
The House on Brookfield Lane
Ethan was only a few miles from home when it happened. A sudden dizziness swept over him, the road blurred, and he pulled his car to the side. When the fog lifted, he realized he couldn’t remember who he was, or where he had been going. All he had was a backpack, a half-filled journal, and the overwhelming instinct that he needed to find shelter.
He wandered until he reached Brookfield Lane, where an old house loomed against the evening sky. As a child, Ethan had feared this place. It was where shadows seemed darker, where kids whispered about ghosts and curses. Though he didn’t remember that fear, his body did—a chill ran through him as he stepped onto the porch. Still, with nowhere else to go, he knocked.
An elderly woman opened the door. “Come in, child,” she said softly, as though she had been expecting him. Ethan stayed, helping with small chores, sharing meals, and slowly growing comfortable in the quiet warmth of the house. In the evenings, they talked. She asked about his life. Even though he couldn’t remember, fragments began returning. He recalled his laughter with friends, the smell of campus coffee shops, and the long nights of studying. Then, something deeper surfaced. It was the secret he had held since high school. He thought he’d never say it aloud. He told her he was gay. Instead of fear or judgment, she smiled. “Love,” she said, “is never something to be ashamed of. It’s what keeps this house alive.”
When his memory finally returned, it shocked everyone. Ethan’s parents had always thought of Brookfield Lane as cursed, a place to avoid. They couldn’t understand how the son they worried about had found comfort, truth, and acceptance there. For Ethan, though, the house became more than a place of fear. It became the place where he embraced who he was. He learned that what we fear most sometimes holds the power to set us free.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Eldoria’s Shattered Crown: A Tale of Courage and Redemption
2–3 minutes
The Knight and the Shattered Crown
The kingdom of Eldoria lay beneath a shadow. Once filled with music, trade, and the bright laughter of children, its streets had grown silent. A great dragon, black as midnight and wreathed in fire, had descended from the northern mountains. With its arrival, the crown of the king—the source of Eldoria’s unity and prosperity—was shattered into three pieces. These pieces were scattered across the land. Without the crown, the kingdom faltered, its people divided, its armies weakened.
But hope was not lost.
The Oath
Sir Alaric of Bindenvale was no stranger to hardship. He was a knight forged in battles and tempered by loyalty. He was summoned to the king’s side as illness gnawed at the ruler’s strength. The king’s voice was weak, but his eyes burned with command as he entrusted Alaric with a quest:
“Find the three shards of the crown. Restore it, and our kingdom will live again.”
Alaric bowed deeply, vowing to see the quest through or perish in its pursuit. Armed with his blade, Lion’s Fang, and guided by his unyielding faith, he rode forth.
The Trials
The first shard was said to lie in the Forest of Whispers, guarded by spirits of the old world. There, Alaric endured visions meant to unseat his courage—faces of fallen comrades, echoes of failures long past. But he pressed on, offering words of honor instead of fear, and the spirits relented, gifting him the shard.
The second shard rested in the Abyss of Cindral, a labyrinth of fire and stone. Alaric fought creatures born of molten rock and endured heat that melts steel. At the abyss’s heart, he found the shard embedded in stone, pried free by his resolve rather than brute strength.
The third shard was the most perilous: it lay in the dragon’s lair itself. Alaric faced the beast, its scales impenetrable and its fire endless. Yet he recalled the oath he had made—not to defeat the dragon, but to save the kingdom. Using wit, he lured the beast into a trap of crumbling stone. This gave him just enough time to seize the final shard.
The Return
Weary but unbroken, Sir Alaric returned to Eldoria. The shards were reforged by the kingdom’s smiths into the Crown of Unity. As it was placed once more upon the king’s brow, light returned to the realm, driving back the dragon’s shadow. The people of Eldoria cheered. They celebrated not merely for their crown. They honored the knight whose courage and humility had bound them together once more.
Sir Alaric never sought glory, only service. Yet in taverns and halls for generations to come, his story was told. It was the story of a knight who saved a kingdom not through conquest. Instead, he saved it through honor, sacrifice, and faith.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
The Four Magic Words: A Father’s Legacy
2–3 minutes
Ebom Shoobem Shoobem Shoobem
The four magic words a father passed down to his four children. He told them that anytime they were about to face trouble, they should speak those words. The assistance they required would eventually. But only if they took the necessary action for it to occur.
The words were only to be used when necessary. They should not be used as a want. Use them during a crisis, more than a wish. And a threat to life, rather than a threat to pride. If they ever abused the use of the words, then their special powers would no longer be available to them. The magic words would only be passed on when they reached the age of 18. They needed to have made plans to leave the family home.
The four children had each left their home by the time the father had reached 55 years of age. He had spent a great deal of his life enjoying his time with each of them. Now, he looked ahead to adventuring into his own life.
The father’s four children carried the words with them into the wide world. Each one held them differently. One tucked them away like a secret prayer. Another spoke them aloud when fear pressed too heavily. A third doubted them but remembered all the same. The fourth treated them like a compass hidden in the lining of a coat.
In time, each child faced a moment that tested the promise of those words. One found themselves stranded in a snowstorm, far from home. Another stood at the edge of despair after losing nearly everything they had built. A third was cornered by deceit, betrayed by someone they had trusted. And the last stood between danger and an innocent life.
In every trial, the magic words did not summon thunderbolts or winged guardians. Instead, they sharpened courage, opened a hidden door, or drew the right ally to their side. The father had spoken true—the words alone were not enough. But when joined with action, with faith, with that one step ahead, help always came.
Years later, when the father’s hair had silvered and his own journeys were slowing, the children returned to him. Around the fire, they told their stories—each different, but threaded with the same truth. The words had worked. This was not because they carried power of their own. Instead, they reminded each child that strength and salvation arrive only when one dares to act.
The father smiled, warmed by both the fire and the glow in his children’s faces. He whispered, almost to himself, “Ebom Shoobem Shoobem Shoobem.” The four children echoed it back, not as magic, but as memory.
And from then on, they knew—the words were not only for escaping danger. They were meant to be carried ahead to their own children one day. The words served as a charm. They also posed a challenge. Help will come, but only if you rise to meet it.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
The Elevator of Life: A Profound Story of Honesty
2–3 minutes
The Whiskey Sea and the Elevators
The man had lived his life in balance—not a saint, not a sinner, but somewhere in between. He had helped when strong. He erred when he was weak. Now, in his elder years, he carried the weight of both. His body ached. His breath came shorter. One night, he sank into a sleep so deep it felt like stepping into another world.
A ship appeared from the darkness. Its hull was blackened with age. It floated on a sea of whiskey. The whiskey shimmered like molten amber under the moonlight. A cigar extended from the deck like a gangplank, smoke curling in lazy ribbons. Hesitant but curious, the man stepped onto the cigar and walked across, balancing himself as if crossing into another reality.
On board, a captain awaited him—tall, weathered, eyes that had seen too much. “I’m here to take you to your next destination,” the captain said, voice low and certain. The man nodded. The ship cut across the whiskey sea. It came to rest before a towering building of glass and brass. Its entrance was lined with golden elevators, each gleaming like judgment itself.
Inside, a sharply dressed man waited in the lobby. His shoes were polished so bright they caught the reflection of the man’s weary face. He gestured toward a chair. “Tell me your life story,” he said.
And so the man spoke. He told of the good—moments of kindness, loyalty, laughter. He confessed to the bad—times of selfishness, anger, and failure. He left nothing out, for what use was there in lying at the end? The suited man listened, not judging, only nodding as though each word was weighed like coin on a scale.
At the end, silence hung heavy. The suited man pressed a single button. The doors of one elevator slid open, glowing with light the man did not quite see. He stepped ahead, heart pounding. Whether the elevator rose or fell, he did not know. But as the doors closed, he understood something profound. The true measure had never been perfection. It was honesty. It was the courage to walk the bridge, board the ship, and face the truth of who he had been.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Simple Moments: How a Bench Transformed a Neighborhood
1–2 minutes
The Bench by the Willow Tree
On the edge of town, near a quiet creek, there’s an old willow tree. Beneath its sweeping branches sits a wooden bench—simple, weather-worn, and unremarkable to anyone passing by. Yet, for the people who live nearby, it has become something more: a gathering place of unexpected kindness.
It started with an elderly woman who came to rest her legs each morning. One day, a teenager walking his dog sat down beside her. They began talking. By the time the boy left, she was smiling in a way her neighbors hadn’t seen in years. The next day, the boy came back—with coffee in hand for her.
Word spread. Soon, others began stopping at the bench. A widower brought extra tomatoes from his garden. A young mom offered homemade muffins. A pair of joggers left fresh flowers tucked into the slats. Strangers became neighbors, and neighbors became friends—all because of an old bench no one ever noticed before.
The willow still stands, and so does the bench. It hasn’t been polished, painted, or rebuilt—it doesn’t need to be. Its gift is not in how it looks. Its gift is in what it holds: conversations, kindness, and the small reminders. Even in a world that feels divided, we can still find each other in the simplest of places.
✨ The Takeaway: Sometimes hope and connection aren’t found in grand gestures. They aren’t always in perfect plans. Instead, these are found in an ordinary spot where people choose to show up for one another.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Back-to-School Memories at the Local Drug Store
2–3 minutes
Back-to-School at the Drug Store
In our little town, back-to-school season wasn’t marked by glossy superstore aisles or online orders delivered in cardboard boxes. No, it happened right on Main Street. It was at the drug store tucked neatly between the barber shop and the movie theater.
That drug store was a place all its own. A long soda fountain stretched nearly the length of one wall. It had red-topped stools that spun in slow circles when you climbed onto them. Folks would stop in for a cherry Coke or a vanilla phosphate. The hum of the soda jerk’s mixer became as familiar as the sound of church bells on Sunday morning. On the north end of the store, up near the front window, stood a glass display case. Behind it sat neat stacks of paper bags. Each bag was carefully filled with the exact school supplies a child would need for a given grade.
Every August, families filed in, children buzzing with nervous excitement. You only needed to walk up to the counter. Puff out your chest and tell the lady behind it your grade number. With a kind smile, she’d hand over a brown paper bag with your future sealed inside. The bag contained pencils, crayons, rulers, and erasers. For the younger grades, it included that wide-lined treasure known as the Big Chief Tablet.
Kindergarten through third grade was the golden stretch, when opening that bag felt like Christmas morning in August. We’d tear into the packages of crayons. We tested the sharpness of new pencils. We imagined all the things we’d draw and write. But as the years went on, the thrill wore off. By fourth grade, the magic faded. We realized those paper bags didn’t just hold supplies. They carried us straight back into the dreaded routine of homework. There were also spelling tests and teachers who never gave you quite enough recess.
Still, that ritual mattered. The drug store had a soda fountain fizzing. Its shelves were lined with shiny notebooks. It gave us a sense of belonging. It tied the town together. The barber cut hair next door. The movie theater marquee changed weekly. Parents shepherded kids through one more milestone.
Every bag marked a fresh start, even if we grumbled about it. None of us would have admitted it then. Yet, there was comfort in knowing that behind that glass display case was a little brown sack of sharpened pencils. It was waiting for us every year with brand-new beginnings.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
The Idiocy Of Name Calling – Woof Whistles And Such!
1–2 minutes
The Great Name-Calling Open
The morning was sunny on the golf course. A group of doctors noticed a team of nurses playing a round a few holes over. One of the doctors cupped his hands and hollered across the fairway:
“Hey! When you walked by the gate, the watchdog said WOOF! WOOF!”
The nurses froze, glaring back. One of them raised her club like a microphone and shouted,
“Oh yeah? When you all walked by the pond, the ducks went QUACK! QUACK!”
The golf course grew quiet. A couple of retirees nearby peeked out of their carts to see what the commotion was. The trash talk had officially begun.
Just then, a police officer—off duty but still in uniform for reasons only he knew—wandered up and added his grievance.
“That’s nothing! I went into a restaurant today and a bunch of teenagers started going OINK! OINK! OINK! at me!”
Back in the day, the slur was meant to show resentment toward police officers by labeling them as pigs. Still, many officers suggested it represented [Pride Integrity and Guts]!
The doctors and nurses nodded sympathetically, but before long they were all laughing. It seemed no profession was safe from ridicule.
“Well,” said one of the nurses, grinning. “If we’re going to keep score, I went to a rock concert last week. The singer stopped mid-song, pointed straight at the crowd, and called us every name in the book. I felt like I’d paid extra for the insults.”
By now, the golfers had abandoned their shots. The officer had parked his cart. The conversation had spiraled into a full-blown “who got called what” competition. Farmers chimed in about “moo” jokes. Teachers griped about “boring” chants. A barber also complained about being called “clip-clop” at the horse races.
The sun dipped lower, balls went unhit, and nobody remembered the score of the game. One thing was certain: the Great Name-Calling Open had been played on that course. Every profession—dog, duck, pig, or otherwise—walked away laughing.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
How Blind Trust Leads to Deception
1–2 minutes
The Man of Hoaxes
He wasn’t the strongest. He wasn’t the wisest. Yet, he fluttered about with enough charm and bluster. This convinced the people he belonged in power. They laughed at his antics, mistaking arrogance for confidence and confusion for brilliance. By the time they realized he had taken control of their trust, it was too late. He spoke, and they listened.
Whenever things went wrong, he had an answer ready: “It’s a hoax.” Crops failed? A hoax. Jobs vanished? A hoax. Storms swept through the land? A hoax. Even the things they see with their own eyes, he dismissed with a sneer. And they believed him, because it was easier than admitting they had been deceived.
Slowly, their lives unraveled. Families quarreled. Neighbors turned on one another. Their fields lay empty, their towns hollow, their hopes spent. Yet they clung to his words like a drowning man clings to driftwood. In truth, their downfall wasn’t his alone—it was their own. For had they stood up, had they questioned, had they said “enough,” they stopped him. Instead, their faith in his lies became the noose that choked their future.
Moral
A hoax repeated becomes a truth only in the minds of the foolish. To see clearly, one must dare to doubt the man who profits from your blindness.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Finding Common Ground: Building Bridges in Polarized Times
1–2 minutes
Finding Common Ground in a Divided Nation
Everywhere we look, the signs of division are clear. Our conversations have turned into shouting matches, our communities into factions, and even the smallest differences into battle lines. A nation divided can’t stand strong. But there is another path. It does not ask us to agree on everything. Instead, it asks us to bring ourselves into spaces that center peace and shared purpose.
The Power of a Centered Community
When we step away from division and enter a group that is centered and peaceful, something remarkable happens. The noise quiets down. Respect returns to the conversation. We start to see each other not as opponents. Instead, we see each other as fellow human beings. We recognize struggles, joys, and hopes that are more alike than different. These kinds of communities create an environment where empathy can thrive—and empathy is the root of unity.
A Call to Unite Around a Common Cause
Now more than ever, we need to reclaim what unites us. Not political slogans, not party lines—but a shared wish for dignity, fairness, and belonging. The call is simple: bring yourself, with open hands and an open heart, to a group that fosters peace. Choose to engage in a way that builds bridges instead of burning them. Let’s unite around the common cause of healing our communities, so that we can heal our nation.
Closing Thought
Division is loud, but peace is stronger. Every voice that chooses compassion over conflict adds weight to the side of unity. The choice begins with each of us—will we contribute to the noise, or to the harmony?
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
How a Talking Box Changed a Village Forever
2–3 minutes
The Man Who Brought the Talking Box
Long ago, in a village nestled between mountains and rivers, the people lived simple lives. They farmed, fished, and told stories by firelight. The outside world was a distant rumor; progress had passed them by like a river running around a stone.
One day, a man arrived carrying a strange box. He called it a television. The villagers had never heard such a word. When he told them it would show pictures that talked, they laughed and shook their heads. “You are a fool,” they said. “Only dreams speak, not boxes.”
But the man was prepared. He produced a car battery and some wires. With a flicker of static, light and sound filled the screen. A newsreader from a city hundreds of miles away appeared, his voice echoing across the quiet square. The villagers gasped. They fell to their knees. They did not see a machine—they saw a miracle. To them, this man had called forth visions from the air. He was no salesman. He was a god.
They showered him with gifts: food, gold, comforts he had never imagined. Women sang songs to him, elders bowed in reverence, and children followed him as though he were a prophet. The man, intoxicated by their devotion, stopped trying to sell televisions. Why would he? To share the secret would be to share his power. Instead, he worked to suppress progress, warning of curses should other machines arrive. If anyone else brought innovation to the village, his godhood would vanish.
But gods made of flesh will not stand forever. One day, another traveler arrived, carrying a radio. The villagers gathered again. They looked at the newcomer in awe. Their awe was just like when they revered their god of the television. Voices once poured from the box without wires or pictures. In that instant, the spell broke. The villagers realized the man was no deity, only a trickster who had hoarded knowledge.
The gifts stopped. The songs ended. He was left alone with his machine, just another man in a world where progress is not be-dammed forever.
Moral
Power built on ignorance never lasts. Sooner or later, truth finds a way to flicker into the light.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Uncommon Phobias That Sound Made Up
2–3 minutes
The Strangest Phobias You’ve Never Heard Of
When most people think of phobias, the usual suspects come to mind: spiders, heights, flying, or public speaking. But the human mind is infinitely complex, and so are the fears it produces. Beyond the common anxieties, there are phobias so rare and oddly specific. They almost sound made up, yet they’re very real for those who experience them.
1. Arachibutyrophobia – Fear of Peanut Butter Sticking to the Roof of the Mouth
It sounds funny at first, but this phobia can cause genuine distress. For those who suffer from it, even the thought of peanut butter clinging to their mouth can spark panic. It often extends to sticky foods in general.
2. Nomophobia – Fear of Being Without a Cell Phone
A very modern fear, nomophobia describes the anxiety people feel when separated from their phones. This can occur when the battery dies, the signal drops, or when the device is misplaced. In an age where smartphones are lifelines, this phobia has become increasingly common.
3. Xanthophobia – Fear of the Color Yellow
While most associate yellow with warmth and cheer, some people experience overwhelming anxiety when exposed to the color. It can be triggered by objects, clothing, or even sunshine itself.
4. Papaphobia – Fear of the Pope
Unusual, yes, but historically documented. For those with papaphobia, even images or references to the Pope can cause panic. It’s believed to stem from a mix of religious trauma and authority-based fears.
5. Pogonophobia – Fear of Beards
In some cases, beards are more than just a fashion statement—they’re a trigger. This phobia can cause sufferers to avoid contact with people who have facial hair. This avoidance is rooted in past negative experiences or simply an overwhelming sense of discomfort.
6. Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia – Fear of Long Words
Ironically named, this phobia is real and involves anxiety around long, complex words. Sufferers feel uneasy in academic or professional settings where such terms are common.
7. Eisoptrophobia – Fear of Mirrors
This phobia goes beyond superstition. For some, looking into mirrors triggers deep anxiety. This anxiety is linked to fears of self-perception. It is also connected to superstition. There is also the uncanny feeling of seeing one’s reflection.
Why These Fears Matter
While some of these phobias sound absurd to outsiders, they are real, debilitating conditions for those who experience them. They highlight the diverse ways our minds process fear. These remind us that what seems laughable to one person feel life-altering to another.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
The Other Laws That Are Weird And Strange That Snag People!
2–4 minutes
When Weird Laws Get Real: Strange Rules That Actually Snagged People
We’ve all heard about oddball laws that lurk in dusty legal books. Some examples include bans on whistling at canaries or outlawing whale hunting in landlocked states. Most sound like punchlines, not punishments. But here’s the kicker: some of America’s strangest laws have actually been enforced. Real people have faced consequences because of them.
The “No Standing with a Drink” Rule
In Woburn, Massachusetts, city ordinances once required that bar patrons stay seated while drinking. Sounds silly? Local authorities enforced it. The rule came from strict licensing codes. Bar owners had to police their customers. A little too much standing around with a pint trigger fines or even a license suspension. Imagine being told to “sit down or get out” just for holding your beer upright!
Too Drunk for the Bar—Alaska Style
In Alaska, it’s illegal for someone who is intoxicated to stay in a bar. That’s right: you can’t be drunk in a place that exists to serve alcohol. Police actively enforce this law. They have arrested bar patrons. They have even fined bartenders for allowing visibly drunk people to hang around. It’s like a bouncer’s dream written into law, with teeth.
Civil Forfeiture: Losing Property Without Conviction
Here’s one that isn’t just quirky—it’s downright controversial. Civil forfeiture laws let police seize property, like cars or cash, without ever charging the owner with a crime. It’s happened across the country. Regular folks are stripped of thousands of dollars. They have to fight uphill battles in court just to get their property back. Technically legal, often enforced, and more than a little surreal.
Sovereign Citizens vs. Reality
Another group that bumps into odd laws are self-proclaimed “sovereign citizens.” These are individuals who claim they’re not bound by U.S. laws, often flooding courts with bizarre paperwork or filing fake liens on judges and officials. Sounds like a fringe hobby—until the arrests come down. Many sovereign citizens have faced jail time for fraud, impersonation, or obstruction. Turns out the government doesn’t take kindly to “opting out” of its authority.
The Chandler Roundup: Immigration Law Gone Awry
In 1997, Chandler, Arizona, became the stage for one of the strangest law enforcement crackdowns in modern memory. Police, alongside Border Patrol, conducted sweeps that targeted hundreds of people suspected of being undocumented immigrants. The problem? Many of those arrested were actually legal residents or citizens. What was meant to be law enforcement turned into a scandal over racial profiling and civil rights.
Why These Stories Matter
It’s easy to laugh at quirky laws about dogs’ hair or Sunday shopping bans. But when enforced, even the strangest rules can shape lives, communities, and freedoms. These cases remind us that laws, no matter how odd they sound, carry real consequences. Sometimes, the difference between comedy and tragedy is simply whether the rulebook is dusted off.
👉 Takeaway: The next time someone says, “Don’t worry, that law’s never enforced,” you want to think twice.
About the Author:
Benjamin Groff is a former police officer and radio news anchor. He has hosted programs for CNN and ABC News affiliates in Colorado and Wyoming. His career in law enforcement began in 1980 and lasted more than two decades. This gave him first hand insight into the criminal mind and public safety. Moreover, it provided him with an understanding of the human stories that often go untold. His writing draws on these experiences, blending street-level truth with a journalist’s eye for the bigger picture.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Has Anyone Ever Been Arrested For Violating Silly Laws?
4–6 minutes
No one has been arrested for any of the silly laws on the books in various states around the country. I conducted a deep dive into the internet, exploring the latest trends in innovative computing, AI, and ChatGPT. This suggests that most of these laws include strict provisions for enforcement. Nevertheless, they seem to be purely regulatory. There are no documented arrests or prosecutions for violation.
There are no recorded cases of arrests for purchasing Silly String. Authorities also report no arrests for whistling to Canaries. Moreover, no one has been arrested for allowing someone to eat them. According to officials, these laws and their enforcement are purely regulatory. There are no documented arrests or prosecutions for violations, as I said above.
The law seems to exist mainly to deter careless purchases. It also aims to prevent property damage. It does not primarily encourage criminal enforcement against children. Still, there were more questions, and that led to today’s report.
Fundamental Laws That Still Raise Eyebrows (and Sometimes Cause Trouble)
1. Civil Forfeiture: The Law That Targets Your Stuff
This isn’t a fictional plot device—it’s real and deeply troubling. In the U.S., police can seize property—cars, cash—even without charging the owner with a crime. Imagine your gold crucifix being named as the defendant in a court case e.g., State v. One Gold Crucifix. The government confiscates nearly half a million dollars from travelers at airports. This happens despite no evidence of wrongdoing. These actions are legally permitted. Often, there are no arrests or convictions. Individuals must fight a labyrinthine process to reclaim their property. (1)
2. Sovereign Citizens: When Laws Are “Optional”
The sovereign citizen movement has seen people file frivolous court documents. They use homemade license plates and claim federal laws do not bind them. Authorities take it seriously. Some adherents have been arrested for filing fake liens, orchestrating “common law courts,” and engaging in wire fraud. One such case was deemed a racketeering enterprise, with convictions earning individuals lengthy prison sentences. (2)
3. Silly String Restrictions – Enforced for Safety Over Fun
In Meriden, Connecticut, silly string can’t be sold to anyone under 18 unless a parent is nearby. It must also be stored securely and can’t be sprayed in public spaces. There’s no record of teens being arrested. Retailers can face fines, up to $99, for violations. This means enforcement is real, even if narrowly targeted. (3)
Why These Laws Matter — Beyond the Weirdness
These aren’t costumes—these laws have tangible consequences. Civil forfeiture can strip people of property without due process. Sovereign citizen actions clog courts and sometimes spiral into criminal schemes. And yes—even silly string bans illustrate how enforcement can reach unexpected corners of daily life.
In the deep dive this is what the results showed –
Here’s what I found on whether anyone has ever been arrested for violating these odd laws:
Arrests? Not Really—But Enforcement Exists
Delaware: Selling Dog Hair
Delaware law prohibits selling or bartering dog or cat hair or fur. The penalties can be up to a Class B misdemeanor. There is also a fine around $2,500 (b). There are no documented cases of arrests or prosecutions solely for selling pet hair. This law appears more preventive than actively enforced.
Berkeley, CA: Whistling for Your Canary Before 7 AM
Berkeley’s noise ordinance indeed bars whistling for a lost canary before 7 a.m. (a). Still, there’s no evidence anyone has ever been arrested or cited for doing so. This one remains a quirky legal tidbit more than a prosecutable offense.
Idaho: Cannibalism
Idaho’s law criminalizes cannibalism, even if consensual, with penalties up to 14 years in prison. Despite its notoriety, there are no known prosecutions under this statute (2e).
Meriden, CT: Selling Silly String to Minors
Silly string in Meriden can’t be sold to anyone under 18 unless accompanied by a parent. It must be locked away. Violators can face a fine of up to $99 (1d). Yet there’s no record of minors ever being arrested or cited for this — enforcement applies to retailers, not children.
Baltimore: Scrubbing Sinks
Rumor has it you can’t scrub a sink in Baltimore – one of those strange local restrictions (1c). That said, there’s no credible record of enforcement or arrests, and the law is generally considered obsolete or never serious.
Utah: Whaling Ban
Utah doesn’t have whaling laws because it was a myth. Still, commercial whaling is prohibited federally via the Whaling Convention Act (1a). Enforcement takes place at the federal level. It does not occur at a state-specific level. Clearly, no one was ever arrested for whaling in landlocked Utah.
Bergen County, NJ: Blue Laws
Bergen County maintains strict blue laws. These laws prohibit retail sales of non-essential items on Sundays. The rules are still actively monitored (2a). Retailers have faced legal pushback for Sunday operations. Investigations, like those involving the mega American Dream mall, have occurred. Nonetheless, no high-profile criminal arrests are generally reported (2b)
Summary Table
| Law | Arrests Reported? | Enforcement Notes |
|---|---|---|
| Delaware dog hair ban | No | Rarely enforced, no cases |
| Berkeley canary whistle ban | No | No known citations or arrests |
| Idaho cannibalism law | No | No reported prosecutions |
| Meriden silly string sale | No | Retailer fines possible; no youth arrests |
| Baltimore sink scrubbing prohibition | No | Mostly folklore, unenforced |
| Utah whaling myth | No | Federal whale protections apply nationwide |
| Bergen County blue laws |
About the Author:
Benjamin Groff is a former police officer and radio news anchor. He has hosted programs for CNN and ABC News affiliates in Colorado and Wyoming. His career in law enforcement began in 1980 and lasted more than two decades. This gave him firsthand insight into the criminal mind and public safety. Moreover, it provided him with an understanding of the human stories that often go untold. His writing draws on these experiences, blending street-level truth with a journalist’s eye for the bigger picture.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Strange Laws Still on the Books in the US
2–3 minutes
Laughable Laws Still Technically Legal in the U.S.
Believe it or not, there are plenty of bizarre laws still sitting in state and local legal codes. Some are outdated, while others are downright absurd. Some rules originated to deal with bygone concerns. Others weren’t removed with the times. These rules range from amusing to downright perplexing.
A Few Noteworthy Oddities
- No dog hair for sale in Delaware. If you collect your pet’s hair, and you try to sell it, you will face a hefty fine. The fine is up to $2,400. (1).
- Do not whistle for your canary in Berkeley before 7 AM. Ornithophiles, beware. Making that whistle too early can land you in legal hot water. (2).
- Cannibalism loophole in Idaho? — It sounds bizarre, but Idaho’s law specifies that non-consensual cannibalism is illegal. This implies that if someone consents, the law doesn’t technically apply (3).
- Selling silly string in Meriden, Connecticut is regulated. It must be locked up in stores. Anyone under 18 can’t buy it (4).
- Helium balloon limits also apply in Connecticut. You can earn a $75 fine. This fine is incurred by releasing more than 10 balloons in 24 hours. (5).
- The “pickle must bounce” myth — This rule is touted as a real law. In reality, it is mostly an urban legend with no legal basis. (6).
- Sink scrubbing is outlawed in Baltimore. Cleaning your sink is seen as pollution under local regulations. (7).
- Saying goodbye to blue laws — In Bergen County, NJ, malls are shut on Sundays. This is due to strict retail blue laws. These laws are a holdover from colonial-era legislation (8).
- Whaling ban in landlocked Utah — Yes, it was once illegal to hunt whales there—though that law was repealed (9).
Why They Still Exist
These odd laws often stem from cultural quirks or outdated public health concerns. Many are no longer enforced, existing more as quirky relics than current legal threats (10). But they serve as a humorous reminder: sometimes our legal system moves at a glacial pace.
About the Author:
Benjamin Groff is a former police officer and radio news anchor. He has hosted programs for CNN and ABC News affiliates in Colorado and Wyoming. His career in law enforcement began in 1980 and lasted more than two decades. This gave him first hand insight into the criminal mind and public safety. Moreover, it provided him with an understanding of the human stories that often go untold. His writing draws on these experiences, blending street-level truth with a journalist’s eye for the bigger picture.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Counting Seconds: A New Perspective on Time
2–3 minutes
How Counting Seconds Can Change Your View of Time
He almost walked past the park bench that morning. Another day, another half-forgotten hour drifting into the pile of others. Life, he thought, had been nothing special. Sixty years gone, and what was left? A handful of photographs, some worn-out stories, and too many missed chances.
Something pulled him down onto the bench. An older gentleman sat next to him. The man’s eyes seemed to know something he didn’t. They exchanged the small talk of strangers until the conversation wandered toward time itself.
“You say sixty years is nothing?”
The old man asked with a quiet smile.
“Let’s count it differently.”
He leaned back, gaze fixed on the trees swaying above them.
“In your life, the Earth has spun on its axis more than 21,900 times. That’s 21,900 sunrises and sunsets — not one of them the same. You’ve lived through over 525,000 hours. Do you realize how many conversations, choices, and quiet moments fit into that span? More than 31 million minutes. More than 1.8 billion seconds. And each one a chance to live, to change, to love.”
The man swallowed. He had never thought of it like that. He had always measured himself by birthdays, promotions missed, or years lost to routine. But suddenly his life didn’t seem so small. Each second, he realized, was a story. Every minute, a chance to change one.
“And here’s the wonder,”
the older man continued.
“Every one of those seconds kept you alive. Your heart beat. Your lungs pulled in air. The Earth carried you through another rotation of light and shadow. You’ve orbited the Sun sixty times, son. That’s not nothing. That’s a journey.”
They sat in silence after that. The bench creaked beneath them. The leaves whispered. And for the first time in a long time, he felt his life wasn’t slipping away. Instead, it was unfolding — second by second, minute by minute. It unfolded in ways he had never stopped to count.
As he stood to leave, the old man gave him a final thought:
“Don’t measure your worth in years, or even decades. Measure it in seconds well-lived. Those, my friend, are endless if you pay attention.”
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
The Comfort of Routine: Breakfast in Mesa, Arizona
2–3 minutes
Breakfast, Community, and the Comfort of Routine
After weeks of rehab after my back surgery, I finally treated myself to breakfast at my favorite spot—Christina’s Wildberry Diner. It didn’t disappoint. It never does. The place is everything a diner should be. It’s a mix of friendly faces. The menu is full of home-cooked favorites. It has the atmosphere that makes first-timers wish they would come back again and again.
Of course, I ordered my usual. Our waitress Christine is our favorite server, not the owner. She knows my routine so well. She brings drinks to the table before we’ve even settled in. She’ll look at me with a grin and ask, “Having your normal with gravy this week?” And my answer is always the same: “Of course!”
My better-half, Steve, makes his order. But it is never quite as predictable. Pancakes one week, toast the next—it keeps Christine on her toes. But no matter what we order, our glasses are never empty. That’s part of what makes this place special. Christine remembers. The staff notices. After four years of showing up on weekends, the diner has come to expect us. If we’re going to be out of town, we let them know. Here, being seen and known is part of belonging.
After breakfast comes the next stop in our routine: Superstition Ranch Market. It’s a no-frills produce market where farmers bring in fresh fruits and vegetables by the bulk. We’ve honed our shopping to an art. We’re in and out in under ten minutes. The savings are worth the trip. The produce is second to none. The clerks know us, too. One cashier in particular likes us at her lane, and when she’s there, that’s where we go. They check on our health. They also check on our recovery. This care says everything about the community we’re lucky to live in.
What makes it remarkable is this: Mesa, Arizona, isn’t a small town. It’s the second-largest city in the state, part of a metro area of more than five million people. And yet, somehow, in the middle of all that, we’ve found a community that feels small, familiar, and deeply connected.
For more than 24 years, we’ve lived in Arizona, and the last 12 in Mesa. Of all the places we’ve called home, this city is one of the most special. It has a blend of people from everywhere. It has a rhythm of routines and unexpected kindness.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
The Great Tortoise Escape: A Neighborhood Mystery
2–3 minutes
The Great Tortoise Caper
Harold was not your average backyard pet. For one thing, he was a tortoise—stoic, slow-moving, and entirely uninterested in chew toys or squeaky balls. He had a knack for testing boundaries. He focused specifically on the wooden fence that separated his little patch of green from the rest of the world.
It was a warm Thursday morning when Harold spotted his chance. The gate, left just barely ajar, beckoned. And so, with all the urgency of a creature who could nap through an earthquake, he set off.
The first few feet were thrilling—new smells, unfamiliar blades of grass. Soon he found himself among tall weeds. They brushed the top of his shell. The sunlight dappled through in golden patches. Harold was, for the first time in years, truly free.
Back at the house, his caretaker, Miriam, noticed the absence almost instantly. Panic bloomed. Harold wasn’t fast, but he was determined, and that made him unpredictable. She called the local HOA, who wasted no time sending out a neighborhood alert. Within the hour, a small army of retirees—sun hats on, binoculars in hand—fanned out through the cul-de-sacs and common areas. They called his name as if he actually come when called.
“Check under the hedges!”
shouted Frank from three doors down.
“Don’t forget the drainage ditch!”
added Ethel, peering into a shrub like it might hold the crown jewels.
But Harold was nowhere near the hedges. He was ambling through a corridor of tall grass, blissfully unaware of the search party. The grass parted to reveal shimmering water ahead—one of the golf course ponds, its surface gleaming like a mirror. Harold paused at the edge, the water rippling as a golf ball plunked in somewhere across the way.
It was here, in this quiet moment, that his adventure almost took a turn. The pond’s soft edge gave way under his front foot. Harold slid ahead, catching himself just in time. He gave the pond a slow, thoughtful look, decided it was not his scene, and turned back toward the grass.
Hours later, Miriam spotted him in the shade of a ficus tree near the clubhouse. He was calm, content, and entirely unbothered by the chaos he’d caused. The search party gathered, relieved, and one by one, they drifted back to their homes.
Harold was returned to his yard, the gate firmly latched this time. If you looked closely the next morning, you might have seen him sitting by that same gate. He was staring out at the world beyond. He was already plotting his next great escape.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
Forgiveness and Memories: A Story Unfolds
1–2 minutes
The Last Letter
The envelope had no return address—just Ben Keller’s name written in neat, looping script he hadn’t seen in twenty years.
It arrived on a Wednesday, the gray morning when the world felt slightly out of focus. He set it on the kitchen table. He stared at it over his coffee. The handwriting gnawed at a half-buried memory.
When he finally opened it, there were only four words inside: “I forgive you. – M.”
Ben’s mind spun. M had only one reason to forgive him. It was Maggie Lowe, his best friend from the summer of ’98. They were both seventeen then. The girl who vanished after that last night on the lake. The girl everyone assumed had run away.
For the rest of the day, the letter sat in his jacket pocket, a warm weight against his chest. That night, he drove out to the lake. It looked smaller than it had in his memory. The old pier was still there. The boards were warped and groaned under his steps.
Halfway down, he stopped. Someone was standing at the end of the pier, back to him, long hair rippling in the wind.
“Maggie?”
The figure turned. Same face. Same eyes. Not aged a day.
Ben’s breath caught.
“How…?”
She smiled faintly, holding up her hand. A folded sheet of paper slipped from her fingers, catching the wind before it hit the water.
“You always wondered what happened. Now you’ll remember.”
When Ben blinked, she was gone.
And in his pocket, the original letter was gone too.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
The Secrets Behind Earl’s Brothers Benches
2–3 minutes
The Silent Partner
Everyone in town knew Earl’s Brothers Benches. The name was painted in hand-cut wooden letters across the weathered front of the shop. The scent of sawdust lingered in the air like an old hymn. Customers would often ask about the other brother—the one whose name they didn’t see behind the counter.
“Oh, he had to go away for a while,”
Earl would say with a small smile, never elaborating.
“I expect to see him again someday.”
Most people took it at face value, assuming the absent brother was traveling, sick, or otherwise tied up. No one guessed the truth—that “the silent partner” had been dead before the shop even opened. His name was there only out of love and respect. Earl had lost a sibling decades earlier in a winter tragedy. The boy fell through the ice on a frozen pond and never came back.
But the story of the missing brother was more tangled than anyone knew.
The boy who drowned wasn’t Earl’s only brother. Earl didn’t tell customers this. He didn’t even tell his closest kin. As a young man, Earl’s father had been married before. The union was brief and ended when he was drafted into the military. Afraid he would die in service, he’d released his young bride from her vows. She remarried while he was overseas, but not before giving birth to a son—his son.
That son grew up two cities away, unaware of his father’s new life and family. For years, the two boys—half-brothers—lived separate lives. Then, after the drowning, the surviving twin grew restless, convinced there was “someone else out there.” His persistence finally wore down their father, who told him the truth.
In secret, the two half-brothers met. They became friends, confidants—and eventually, quiet business partners. The late brother’s name went on the sign. The living half-brother kept his part in the business quiet. This was a private arrangement that suited them both.
The shop carried on for years until Earl’s death. Only when the will was read did the family learn of a “beneficiary” in another city. He was a man no one recognized. When he arrived, the room fell silent. He looked exactly like Earl.
The resemblance was uncanny—two men from different lives, bound by the same father’s face. Only then did the family start to piece together the truth: the “silent partner” they thought had been long dead had been right there all along…
And now, the other brother stood before them. He was alive and held the keys to a business. This business had carried both their names.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025
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