Monthly Archives: April 2025

Cumulus

Cumulus

The sky forgets its name
and folds into itself,
a silence made of wool.

No drama of rain,
no brilliance of light—
only moments between intentions.

The trees hold still
as if waiting for a verdict.

Somewhere, a bird sings
a note that doesn’t echo.

You walk through it,
parting the gray
like a dreamer waking slowly—
not for anything urgent,
but because morning is here.

Even shadows seem thoughtful,
less certain where to fall.

The world
wears a soft indecision,
and you—
you match it.

Is there a certain kind of clarity
in the blur?
A truth
best whispered
without name?

Cloudy days do not answer.
They let you ask.

Bezos Blinks. Again.


Amazon nearly did something brave. It was going to show us the truth: how much Trump’s tariffs are jacking up the price of everyday stuff.

Not in a footnote. Right next to the price tag.

That kind of honesty doesn’t go over well in politics.

The White House called it a “hostile and political act.” Trump called Bezos. A day later, Amazon folded. Transparency lost.

So did we.

Bezos has tried to make peace with Trump. He went to the inauguration. Made the Washington Post cross the line into boosterism.

Didn’t matter. Trump wanted control, not courtesy.

And when Amazon even considered telling the truth about tariffs, Trump threw a fit. Bezos backed off. Like he always does.

So let’s say Amazon hadn’t blinked. We here at The HollywoodBowles prefer facts over fascists. So here’s what you’d see:

  • Bluetooth earbuds: $20 → $49
  • Phone case: $10 → $24.50
  • Desk lamp: $30 → $73.50
  • Wireless charger: $15 → $36.75
  • Power bank: $25 → $61.25
  • USB-C cable: $12 → $29.40
  • Smart plug: $18 → $44.10
  • Laptop stand: $40 → $98
  • Headphones: $50 → $122.50
  • Fitness tracker: $35 → $85.75

That’s the price of policy. Not inflation. Not greed. A 145% tax on Chinese imports, passed right to your cart.

Temu and Shein are already showing the tariff hit. Their prices are spiking. Amazon almost did the same. Almost.

Instead, we get silence. A few whispers from the Haul division. A phone call. Then nothing.

Bezos didn’t want a fight. But Trump picked one anyway. And the guy who built the world’s biggest retailer backed down without a word.

So next time your cart total feels off, remember this moment. The truth was almost right there, in black and white.

Then it vanished.

’Companion’ Passes The Turing Test


Robots who don’t know they’re robots have become the new darlings of science fiction.

From Blade Runner 2049 to Subservience to I’m Not a Robot, the question of what it means to be real has taken center stage. Companion doesn’t break new ground, but it sharpens familiar ideas into something haunting and alive.

The story unfolds in a near future where engineered companions, programmed with synthetic emotions, fill the gaps real people can’t.

Sophie Thatcher leads the film with a fierce, wounded performance as Iris, a creation who seems almost too human. Jack Quaid plays her owner with the right mix of warmth and menace, suggesting how easily love curdles into control.

Director Drew Hancock keeps the frame cold and clinical. The sets are sterile, the colors washed out, the silences longer than the conversations.

Companion builds tension not through chases or action, but through stillness — the slow recognition that identity can be manufactured like a product.

For most of its running time, the film trusts the audience. It raises questions about autonomy, loneliness, and guilt without shouting them.

Alas, the ending doesn’t quite hold. As the story rushes toward its conclusion, it wobbles into melodrama. Characters who once felt human start making decisions that belong more to plot mechanics than to themselves.

Another weakness is how closely Companion mirrors I’m Not a Robot. No accusations have been leveled, and the timeline suggests coincidence. Still, the resemblance is strong enough that Companion could have been called I Am Not I Am Not a Robot. It’s a distraction the movie never fully outruns.

Even with those slips, Companion lingers. It asks how much of ourselves we’re willing to hand over to comfort. And whether, once we do, we are anything more than machines ourselves.