Moriarty Should Have Lived

Do you ever get so passionate in the heat of the moment that you just have to blog about it?

This is a topic that’s been on my mind a while: Moriarty’s fate in BBC Sherlock.

And yes, many spoilers here if you haven’t read it.

I’m gonna put a bit more space here in case your eyes glaze over it, like most do when reading blog posts.



So Moriarty kills himself at the end of season two of Sherlock. Yeah. What a mistake. It was as if the writers didn’t know how popular the character would become because they spend the next TWO SEASONS bringing him back in weird ghost forms, to the point where he was more prominently featured in the show after he died than when he was alive.

BBC Sherlock’s version of Moriarty is one of the greatest villains of all time. I would put him either on par or higher than Heath Ledger’s Joker and THAT is high praise, buddy. You could understand his motivations, yet he was a total madman. Andrew Scott’s performance would be the highlight of every episode for me.

And don’t get me wrong, I actually love his death scene and his motivation behind it. He’s so desperate to kill Sherlock’s eternal reputation, that he’d literally kill himself to achieve it. What other villain even comes close to that level of pettiness?

At the end of season three, they introduced a new villain, before quickly killing him as well and teasing MORIARTY’S RETURN.


…for one of, if not the biggest let down of my life.

Seriously, this was a bigger let down than when I felt like my dad didn’t love me because I couldn’t play sports. I tried, I really tried.

I asked him to train me one afternoon. We went to the local park and shot some hoops. It could’ve been a great father-son bonding moment, but I just sucked so badly at basketball that the only thing I was left with was the silent disappointment in my father’s eyes.

We would go to the gym every Saturday, where I would routinely underperform in every aspect of the sport possible. I even sucked at simply passing the ball.

On the way home, my dad told me I was grounded from using the computer, since I had a bad attitude about sports. I ran upstairs to my room and cried. I felt trapped. It wasn’t that I had a bad attitude, I was just bad. I wasn’t good enough. And now my dad was punishing me for being physically unable to be the athletic son he’s always wanted. Sigh. At least he has my brothers.

In the Sherlock season four teaser, they show a shot of what is clearly the back of Moriarty’s head. My spirits lifted. HE’S ALIVE! I began chanting like it was Easter.

Then season four actually premiered.

And man, did they do my dirty.

They introduced Moriarty back into the Sherlock universe, alive and well…

…only to reveal it was a flashback MIDWAY into the scene.

Now that is some messed up ish.

Kinda like the time my dad….never mind.

Look, the writers had a good thing going. They had this fantastic villain and a fantastic death scene. Great. But either bring him back to life or leave him dead! Don’t play my heart, fools! The villain in season three was great! I loved him despite not being able to remember his name!

If you were going to toy with my feelings, teasing that he might be alive, then BRING HIM BACK TO LIFE BRO I JUST WANT MORE-RIARTY!


Anyway, I’m still upset about Sherlock. Truly one of the worst moments of my life.

Josh out.

3 Objective Reasons Why iPhone Is The Superior Phone

I usually don’t write about things like this, but I have some strong feelings I need to unleash. See, I was a faithful Android user for years. My first smartphone: Samsung Galaxy S4. I loved it.

After I had dropped it multiple times and purchased the spider-web design on my home screen, I upgraded to the S6. Made sense. Nothing particularly new.

I must’ve bought at least ten different chargers for this thing. The battery would die twice a day after only two years of use. Texting was a major pain in the crack so I rarely texted, preferring Facebook messenger instead.

When looking for a new phone, I considered getting a Google Pixel. It was like finding a person who resembles your ex and being attracted to them. However, to quote Breaking Bad, I was done with half measures.

I bought an iPhone X.

The lights came on. I experienced a revelation second only to my faith in Jesus Christ. I had a phone that actually….worked?

Now that I’ve owned an iPhone for about a month and clearly a leading expert in this field of study, here are three objective, undeniable reasons based on empirical data why iPhones are the best smartphones in the world.

Number one, the app store. Let’s face it, phones are unnecessarily advanced nowadays. I don’t need my phone to fly me to the moon, I just want to make calls, text, take photos, and use apps. Every phone, even the cursed Android, is great at these tasks. We can get into the minutiae about which camera has more megapixels, but honestly who gives a flying funky monkey.

What iPhone has over Android, and will always have over Android, is that every app is made for iPhone.

Maybe a tiny percent of apps are made for the ‘droid. Tiny. But it’s indisputable that all apps are designed for iPhone, then ported to Android.

Because of this iPhone will always get the first updates, have priority when it comes to debugging, and access to a greater variety. A good example is Instagram. Often on my Android, Instagram updates would come months after everyone with an iPhone was already tired of the new features.

Let’s take a moment to analyze why I’m so built up about this. Are phones really that important? Does any of this really matter? When I’m on my deathbed, will I remember fondly how I wrote a lengthy blog post telling everyone something they already know? The answer is, of course, yes.


Here’s an easy plus: the software and hardware for iPhones are manufactured by the same company. This is why I briefly considered the Google Pixel; however, Apple’s been in the smartphone game for far longer…heck, they began the smartphone game…so I decided on the tried and true.

One of my biggest irks with Android were uninstallable third-party apps. This drove me up the wazoo, especially an app called Peel Smart Remote. I couldn’t uninstall this thing. I talked to Verizon about it; apparently Android made a deal with this company to throw this app onto all their phones.

It made using an Android comparable to the third level of phone hell.

It had ads I had to pay to remove (I didn’t). Every time I uninstalled it, it would reinstall within a few hours. It filled my home screen, making me feel like I was holding an portable ad, not my personal smartphone. I don’t know who in Samsung thought this was a good idea but gee golly, some days I wanted to smash my phone with a hammer.

Number three, Apple’s simple, intuitive designs make it the easiest smartphone to use. I don’t need to feel like a computer hacker every time I make a phone call, I just want to use my phone. When you have to google how to use your own phone, you know someone on the design team seriously forked up.

That’s pretty much it. I’ve been telling Jenine I would write a blog post about my new phone for a while, so here it is. I can finally move on with my life and talk about other things I’m passionate about, like how every Harry Potter movie directed by David Yates is utter trash.

Josh out.

Plumber Loco

I said something was plumb loco the other day, and no one knew what it meant. Not even Faith, who’s read more books than half the human population. Shocked, I was.

To elaborate, if something is plumb loco, that means it’s crazy. Now you get my title pun.

Anyhoo, my shower drain clogged. Some time ago, my hair catcher disappeared and I neglected to buy a new one for ages. As more and more people used the shower, something was doomed to happen.

I’ve never had a Tinder account, but I imagine it’s similar to messaging multiple businesses on Yelp, trying to figure out which service had the lowest estimate. After swiping right on ten different plumbers, I found one that would clear my drain for fifty-nine dollars. Cool. Within a few hours, the plumber lumbered into my house. I showed him the rising water in my shower. He noticed a guitar in the house.

You play?

Yeah, I used to lead worship for my church back in Jersey.

Oh wow, I’m actually part of this outreach progra …

The fifty-year-old Mexican dude began to share his entire testimony with me, how he used to be a meth addict, lost his wife and kids, then eventually found Christ. It was pretty dope. Felt nice to talk to a fellow believer while getting my shower cleaned.

Bad news. The plumbing situation was worse than I thought. It would be a hundred and eighty dollars instead. Eek.

The plumber got to work. To clear the drain, he used something that looked like a jackhammer with a long snake at its end. I could hear him grunting and sweating from my room, adjacent to the bathroom. I guess I’m really getting my hundred and eighty bucks worth, I thought to myself.

Hours passed. I walked over to check on him.

How’s it going?

The plumber stood in a filthy mess of dirt splattered all over the shower.

Let’s test this baby out.

We ran the water. It rose. Even quicker than before.

Well, it’s almost six. I gotta get going, but I can come back tomorrow and finish the job.
Really sorry about this.

Uh yeah, sure. Whom do I make the check out to?

Oh, don’t worry about it, just pay me tomorrow. Is eight in the morning good with you?


Not paying him in advance turned out to save my butt.

I talked to my roommates. They were perturbed that this guy spent hours in the shower and couldn’t fix the drain. Apparently he was going to bring his boss tomorrow, who had more expertise, and they would fix the problem for sure. But alas, my faith in this company was shattered.

We decided to call my landlord’s plumber instead. Probably should’ve done that to begin with. My roommates called to cancel the original appointment while I watched Avengers with Faith.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. Not because I was thinking about the plumber, but because I had a video to edit for Jubilee. Sorry, misleading. I worked until five in the morning, then immediately left for another freelance gig. Welcome to the exciting, sleepless life of Josh Jackson.

My phone rang while I was at the office. It was the Plumber.

Hey dude, I need your credit card info.

Bad start to the conversation.

For what?

For the service we provided.

Well, is it possible to get a discount on the service? Since, you know…you didn’t actually clear my drain.

Ah, let me get back to you on that.

He hung up. I had no intention on paying him anything.

A couple minutes later, my phone rang again. It was a manager from the plumbing company. I had talked to her yesterday when first booking the appointment.

Hi, is this Josh?

This is me.

Could you explain what happened yesterday? I’m getting multiple stories and want to hear it from you.

I explained what happened. Not very complicated.

Ah, I see. I’m very sorry you had this experience. We understand if you decide to go with another plumber. I know you talked to (the Plumber) and he said he’d offer you a ten percent discount?

I didn’t remember saying anything about ten percent.

The best we can do is lower the price to fifty-nine dollars, which we originally agreed upon.

I can’t really agree with that.

Well, we did send a guy out and provided a service for you.

Okay, say you ordered a pizza from me. Say I spend the time and resources baking the pizza, putting on the pepperoni, etc. Then I drop the pizza on the floor. Would it be fair for me to charge you for that pizza?

The manager’s tone became more frenetic.

Sir, sir, we’re going to send another person, and we guarantee he’ll fix your pipes for fifty-nine dollars.

Well, how does that make me feel as a customer, knowing you sent someone incompetent at his job before sending out your actual plumber?

Sir, we feel like we have a responsibility to finish the job. We can do it for only fifty-nine dollars instead of a hundred and eighty.

She switched it up on me. First, it was going to be fifty-nine bucks just for their plumber to do some cardio in my shower. Now it’s fifty-nine bucks to have the second plumber come and fix it. Slick.

We argued for a few more minutes before I told her that my landlord had final say on which plumber came to the house. Click.

My landlord’s plumber came later that day. He fixed the drain in fifteen minutes flat, then left.

I spent the rest of the night cleaning the mess the original plumber made. Ultimately, I’m grateful for my roommates who prevented me from hiring a fraudulent plumber. They really did me a solid. Don’t really know how to end this blog, so uh, the end.

Josh out.

Processing Some Stuff

You know what I haven’t done in a while? Blog. I did thirty days in a row, then got tired. It’s okay, though. I’m committed to blogging at least once a week. More if I feel like it. This shouldn’t be a scheduled thing.

I have a bunch of unfinished drafts. I started writing my thoughts about turning twenty-five, but then I got busy, life passed, and now I don’t feel like writing it anymore. I do like that I can blog about whatever I’m feeling at the moment. This is raw stuff, baby. Granted, this “rawness” needs to be filtered and edited so that it’s not just me typing “la di da” onto my laptop.

So let’s talk about some feelings. Process this ish.

Dude, I’m lazy. I am so, so lazy. Even telling myself that I’m lazy doesn’t prevent me from being lazy. Being active is not my natural state. It’s like I got to psyche myself up to DO STUFF.

That’s why I try to fill my free time with stuff that motivates me. Like blogging. And vlogging. I’ve been uploading these thirty second vlogs to Instagram. They’re quite fun to make (follow me @jdjackson126). Playing songs on the guitar also helps ease my mind. Or just playing music off Spotify. I find that when there’s a soundtrack in the background, I’m suddenly motivated to get work done. At least I know that about myself.

Man, maybe I should’ve gone to college. I wonder if that would’ve taught me more self-discipline. Eh, I know a lot of people who went to college and still don’t have self-discipline. But they still got debt. Come to think of it, I did dodge a bullet there. I’m not sure if having debt would’ve motivated me to get a better job, but honestly, I’m just glad to be debt-free.

If you’re reading this, sorry for the rambles. I’m just using this blog to process my thoughts, and I encourage you to do the same. It’s kind of freeing, writing something you know the public can see? Sure, I could just write in my own private journal, but it would be barely readable.

Alright, enough blogging for tonight. Just wanted to get a quick post in.

Josh out.

Playing Video Games With Eight Year Olds Online

As I logged into Fortnite, I heard a prepubescent voice chit-chatting over his microphone.

It’s time to get shwifty!

Oh boy. Wasn’t sure how I felt about a child making references to an adult cartoon. I suddenly felt a lot less cool playing the same video games and watching the same shows as an eight-year-old.

The game began. For those who don’t know, Fortnite is essentially Hunger Games, the video game. You drop into a giant field in teams of four, search for weapons and supplies, and try to outlive the other ninety-six players. Oh, and the field gets smaller as time goes on.

The child started blabbering non-stop into his mic, as if he were a sport commentator. Ah, the simple times. The playing field began shrinking. Our other two teammates headed toward the center of the map. The kid, however, seemed preoccupied with gathering supplies. I turned on my microphone.

Hey kid, I think we should follow our teammates. Storm’s getting closer.

BOOM! The kid shot a rocket at me. What the heck?

Let me rocket-boost you!


Stand right over there!

What does rocket boost mean?

When I count to three, you jump, okay? One, two…

I jumped. The kid shot a rocket past my feet. I think it was supposed to send me flying into the air, but he missed and hit a tree.

I messed up. Do you have any more rockets?

Sorry, I don’t have any rockets.

That’s okay, we can find more and try again later.

I noticed the storm right behind us. Our teammates were far, far away.

Kid, I really think we need to go.

We started running after our teammates. The giant storm nipped at our heels, then swallowed us. Our health began draining rapidly. Great.

Do you have any bandages? I need bandages.

Let’s get out of this storm first; I’ll give you bandages afterwards!

I really need bandages!

No time, kid! Just run!

The kid was almost out of health. I had a decision to make.

Sorry kid, you’re on your own.


Every man for himself, this is how the world works! Bye!

I reached the edge of the storm. The kid was now dead, but I was alive. I turned around the corner and got shotgunned by another player. Game over.

Ultimatey, I was grateful for the opportunity to interact with the younger generation, and teach one of them a lesson about self-preservation. The end.

I need to stop playing video games.

Josh out.

Not Your First Rodeo


JOSH, PATRICK, and KRISTINA are playing BANANAGRAMS on the living room floor. JOSEPH watches from the couch, working on his blog inspired by Josh.

Josh notices Kristina has created the word ‘RODEO’ for the second game in a row.

Hey Kristina.

Kristina looks up.

Guess this isn’t your first rodeo, huh?

Everyone dies of laughter. Literally, they die. Their corpses are discovered later that night by BRIAN TANG.

This blog is going downhill fast.

Getting Older

College is now high school to me when I was in college. Does that make sense? Sorry if that sounds like an obvious statement, but for some reason, I’ve been hit over the head with similar thoughts for the past week.

I’m no longer at the same stage of life from three years ago.

Three years ago, I had just moved to California. Hanging out at college circles with college students. Now when I hang out with people my age, I look around and think, “Wow, we all have jobs.” Not used to that.

No one my age is wasting their life in an economical sense. If you are, you’re a social outcast. For example, if you’re a college student who plays video games all day, you could still be categorized as a kid who hasn’t discovered his true potential or whatever. But if you’re twenty-five, jobless, and game for six hours a day, then people start to raise an eye.

If I talk to someone about their age, I often think they’re the same age as me, but in reality, they’re three or four years younger. I’m about to turn twenty-five in a month and a half, so I see everyone to be around twenty-five. I kid you not, it’s happened twice over the past week.

Taylor says the second half of your twenties is the “uncool” part of your twenties. Or something like that.

Dang it, Josh, why are you so mopey about age all of a sudden? I’m sorry you still think you’re seventeen, but you’re not. If you don’t fully appreciate your current stage of life, you’ll miss it even more when it’s passed. 

I don’t like putting things in bold. I like to have a “style” of writing, which means sticking strictly to sentence structure and sometimes italics to communicate your thoughts. But that sentence just felt appropriate in bold.

I do like being twenty-four. I enjoy living in a house with four other awesome roommates. We throw fun parties. We experience life together. We grow together. Granted, it’s like the blind leading the blind since we’re all in our early twenties. I need a mentor or something. Gosh.

Let me end this blog post with a cute gif of my girlfriend watching Stranger Things 2. We had been webcamming while we both watched, and I took screenshots of her during highly emotional scenes.

Jenine Watching Stranger Things 2.gif

Josh out.

P.S. I’m really not putting any effort into titling these posts, am I? Getting Older? What kind of title is that? Literally every post of mine could be titled Getting Older. Gosh Josh, do you want your blog to gain a following or not?