Peeling Potatoes – Episode 33: Jellybean Integrity, Idiot Drivers, and the Two-Tier Zoom AI System

We were “live”… after gassing on for an hour beforehand. Classic.

Episode 33 opens with that familiar kitchen-table reality: the clock is ticking, Fruitloop has to be out of the house in about an hour(ish), and Mayor Frank is still recovering from last week’s “massive meltdown” where he walked out of the studio because life got too loud. No retelling, no wallowing—just the quiet agreement that Peeling Potatoes has become something sacred: the highlight of the week, a “sacred pause,” and honestly… a bit of emotional oxygen.

And then—because this is how it always works—we tumble from “we’re live” into the month’s upcoming topic: values.

Or as Fruitloop accidentally (and perfectly) framed it in the Pineapple:

“Next month we dive into values. And rumor has it Mayor Frank is preparing a fruit bowl constitution of integrity.”

Mayor Frank: “I have no idea what that is.”
Fruitloop: “I don’t know either.”
So naturally, we proceed anyway.

Mornings, Meltdowns, and Why “Fruitloop” Is Still Human

Fruitloop throws in a theory: mornings are better—by afternoon you’re tired, irritated, fed up.

Fruitloop (breaking brand image):
Yes. It happens. I can’t always keep the image up.
Mayor Frank (delighted): Ladies and gentlemen, our two listeners… a human Fruitloop!

That’s the tone of this whole episode: playful truth-telling. The kind where the joke is the wrapper, but the content is real.

The Fruit Bowl Constitution Begins: “If Your Integrity Was a Snack…”

Fruitloop tries to help Mayor Frank “work toward next month” with a question that only Fruitloop could ask without blinking:

If your integrity was a snack, would it be:

• a crunchy carrot,
• reliable toast, or
• a surprise jelly bean?
  …and why?

Mayor Frank—sitting in France at 10:00, it’s horrible weather outside, 16.8°C inside—cannot believe his life has led to comparing integrity to toast.

But then… he chooses the jelly bean.

Not because it’s noble. Because it’s honest.

He admits it: he likes the idea of agility more than integrity. Integrity feels like perfect people—always decent, always truthful, always standing by their word. And he’s not perfect. So: jelly bean. He’ll bounce like a yo-yo. Sweet inside, weird outside—like a pineapple: prickly shell, juicy core.

And yes—he brings in Ronald Reagan’s jelly-bean obsession as cultural garnish, because of course he does.

Jelly Bean Roulette: “Who Thinks This Up?”

Fruitloop then reveals the true horror: the jelly bean challenge box—same colors, different outcomes.

Green? Juicy pear… or booger.
Strawberry banana smoothie… or dead fish.
Blueberry… or toothpaste (which… could be worse, depending on the tooth).
Birthday cake… or dirty dishwasher.
Peach… or barf (and suddenly we’re visiting the memory of a “bathing Ben” toy).
Tutti-frutti… or stinky socks.
Pomegranate… or old bandage.
Toasted marshmallow… or stink bug.
Cappuccino… or liver and onions.
Buttered popcorn… or rotten egg.

There’s even a spinner: the arrow chooses your fate.

Mayor Frank’s response is exactly right:
“Who thinks this up?”

Because somewhere, someone had to know what old bandage tastes like. And dishwasher. And stinky socks. And someone decided that knowledge should become a party game.

Fruitloop checks prices in South Africa: a smaller box is around 45 rand (just over €2), a big box around 250. Mayor Frank immediately imagines “for just 50 cents more” you can get the Super King Size Smelly Bandage edition.

Values, Apparently: “They Come Out When You’re Forced to Decide Good or Bad”

Under the comedy, there’s a clean insight:

Values often reveal themselves when you’re forced—when it’s suddenly “good or bad,” “right or wrong,” “what do you do now?”

And that leads straight into something Fruitloop really struggles with:

Idiot drivers.

The Axe Question (And the 4×4 From Hell)

Mayor Frank asks it in his own blunt way:
Is there anything that drives you to the point of wielding an axe and murdering something?

Fruitloop’s answer: bad drivers. Not you, Mayor—you’re exempt, you’re a class of your own.

Then she tells the story:

• Morning school traffic.
• A four-lane road.
• A four-way stop with a slipway to the high school.
• A white 4×4 maniac weaving between cars, hooting at everyone, desperate to drop off his high school kids…
• at quarter to seven—with 30 minutes still to go before school.

Fruitloop drives her “Driving Miss Daisy speed.” The maniac drives like the apocalypse is chasing him. And then:

They arrive at the same spot at the same time.

The ancient truth, updated for modern traffic:
The hare and the turtle, but both still hit the same red light.

Fruitloop doesn’t wave. But she shares something delicious:

There’s a study (and an article) saying that if you wave or give a thumbs-up to an idiot driver, they get more angry than if you shout.

So her method?

She claps.

“Well done.”

And the driver has to second-guess their entire existence.

South African Roads, Airport Chaos, and Mayor Frank’s Arrival Plan (Rolling Onto the Tarmac)

Mayor Frank is still planning that flight to South Africa: 14 hours of discomfort, then rolling off the plane stairs, across the tarmac, into a heap of gunk: “Hi, it’s me.”

He asks the real question: how does he get from the airport to her place?

Train? No-go.
Driving? Tricky if you don’t know intersections and turns.
But: there’s a way around the airport mess, her husband knows it, and GPS probably can too.

Then traffic reality check:

• Johannesburg midday can be empty-ish.
• But mornings 6–9? Jam-packed.
• Afternoons 4–6 (sometimes 7–8)? Also packed.
• Airport routes? Always chaos.

Also: tow trucks racing to a minor accident… and then causing an even bigger accident—one tow truck ending up on top of the other—because competition and business. Zero business achieved, competition eliminated by mutual destruction.

The Bigger Thing: Pressure, Presumed Guilt, and “Security Reasons”

From drivers, Mayor Frank pivots—because he always pivots—to the deeper irritation:

He’s seeing a society where presumption of innocence is gone. You’re guilty first, and you must prove innocence.

Then he tells the Canterbury story:

Regular hotel, cathedral grounds, free parking.

Receptionist: “No, you can’t leave your car. Security reasons.”
Mayor Frank: So I’m suddenly a security risk?
He asks the gate guy instead: “Sure, no problem.” No drama.

And here’s the real value-nugget:

Throw in the word “security” and it becomes a license to print money.
People repeat it like parrots.
Fear becomes policy.
And respect quietly dies.

Then the key relationship insight lands:

You can dislike someone and still respect them.
But if respect goes, the relationship is doomed.
Repair is possible, but earning respect again is brutally hard.

The BBC Story: Forgiveness Without Apology

Mayor Frank mentions a BBC World Service segment: an 11-year-old boy assaulted and threatened, who tries to tell his father the next day—only to be told his sister has died. The boy’s life derails into crime and darkness.

Later, he claims to have seen an angel, finds faith, becomes a bishop.

Years later, he recognizes his abuser in a McDonald’s. He’s pulled toward revenge—toward killing the man—but something stops him. Two years later, the abuser dies, never knowing he met his victim.

Forgiveness happens.
The apology never comes.
And Mayor Frank—briefly sounding like a priest—catches himself: “I don’t want to be a sermon reader here.”

So Fruitloop saves the vibe with a sideways question.

---

Fruitloop Question of the Day: “If Curiosity Was an Animal…”

Mayor Frank answers instantly:

Cat.

Yes, “curiosity killed the cat,” but also: cats are fantastic to observe. And he has four of them. Uno is there, looking innocent, absolutely guilty.

Fruit Loop chooses:

Hamster.
Flash… who turned out to be female. Equality wins: Flash can be a woman.

Flash’s life:

• sleeps
• eats
• drinks water
• hears humans, climbs out to see if there’s snacks
• loves spaghetti, rice, cheese (high cholesterol, thriving)
• possibly losing weight now—hamsters only live 3–4 years—so Fruitloop suspects she’s nearing her expiration date (and Mayor Frank accuses her of playing God).

Would Mayor Frank survive as an animal in that house? Yes. Harmony exists now that “the rabbits moved to the farm.” (A sentence that sounds peaceful and also like a thriller.)

If Mayor Frank can’t be a cat, what should he be?

Fruitloop offers:

• owl (wisdom, tree friends)
• birds (they can take care of themselves)
• not a lizard (dogs treat lizards like toys)
• fish, hamster, spider, or dog

Mayor Frank worries birds won’t be “taken care of.” Fruitloop replies: birds have their own way.

Then the robin story returns: a robin used to walk into the house, sit on the kitchen counter, steal crumbs and rice. Fruitloop didn’t “take care of him”—he just felt at home.

But she hasn’t seen him in a long time.

Mayor Frank is wounded: maybe the robin found a better home?

Fruitloop answers honestly: possible. A man in the complex feeds birds with seeds—so the robin may have upgraded to a healthier diet.

Also: bread and rice aren’t good for birds. Mayor Frank didn’t know that.

So yes: even the robin becomes a values lesson. Care, but also learning.

The Friday Health Interrogation: “Did You Go Running This Morning?”

Mayor Frank goes full coach-mode:

Fruitloop did not run.
It’s Friday. She uses it as an excuse.
Mayor Frank: your body doesn’t know it’s Friday.

Fruitloop admits demotivation. January was rough. She’s working her way back to the 10k.

Mayor Frank offers his solution: daily WhatsApps starting Monday—“Have you been running?”—until she sends proof.

Then the obstacle appears:

New shoes.

Christmas present.
Very nice.
Too precious for muddy sports grounds.

Mayor Frank suggests:

• use old shoes
• or wear one old and one new (50% wear and tear)

Fruitloop refuses on practical grounds:

• different soles
• different insides
• they look different
• and mud still gets the new shoe anyway

Also: the sports field is grass, it rained yesterday, roads are wet, so field must be wet.

Then Fruitloop casually drops:
Weather forecast shows rain tomorrow, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.

A week-long excuse has arrived in the chat.

Mayor Frank counters: what will you do in winter?

Fruitloop: winter is fine. At least it’s not wet.

They agree (sort of) on a new system:

• laughing emojis = genuinely funny
• thumbs-up emoji = sarcastic “you messed up” (especially in driving)

Mayor Frank: he’s too old for emojis, and doesn’t know which ones to avoid… which makes avoiding them logically impossible.

Fruitloop remembers: Bruce once made an emoji explanation list. Mayor Frank predicts Bruce will respond by sending 20,000 presentations.

The Vegetable Integrity Test: Brussels Sprouts vs Potato

Fruit Loop asks payback:

If you were a vegetable, which one would have the most integrity?

Mayor Frank tries to dodge with Brussels sprouts (because Fruitloop ikes them), but then returns to the truth:

Potato.

A potato is “salt of the earth,” rock-solid, reliable, endlessly versatile, all shapes and sizes.

Then they go full potato-nerd:

• Between 4,000 and 5,000 edible varieties (Fruitloop read it somewhere; nobody knows who counted them; new dream job: “professional potato counter”).
• Origin: Andes Mountains, South America.
• Columbus maybe brought them back (Mayor Frank isn’t fully sure).
• About 180 wild species.
• Three categories:
  • waxy (high moisture, low starch, holds shape)
  • floury/starchy (low moisture, high starch, best for mash)
  • all-purpose (middle ground)
• South Africa: 142 registered cultivars
• Specialty potatoes: “Congo Blues,” purple inside and out.

Fruitloop has never tried them. Mayor Frank imagines her Portuguese greengrocer being asked for “Congo Blues” and reacting like she’s lost her mind.

Mayor Frank suggests she inaugurate the new running shoes by jogging to the greengrocer to ask for a kilo of Congo Blues. Fruitloop is confident he doesn’t have them—she would’ve seen them.

Also: she once bought tiny multi-colored potatoes in France… and they all tasted the same: potato. Outer cover different, inside: still potato.

Mayor Frank: “How can you call a potato normal when there are 4,000–5,000 varieties?”
Fruit Loop: “They all look the same.”
Mayor Frank: Potatoes everywhere feel personally attacked.

Then Fruit Loop jokes that “we can expand that to nationalities,” but clarifies she means similar features—without hurting feelings, with empathy, depending on context.

She shares a friend with one amputated leg who calls himself “legless” online—dark humor with ownership, and a double meaning. That becomes a gentle argument for teasing-with-consent.

Political Correctness, Sensitivity, and the Christmas Tree Problem

Mayor Frank raises the loaded question: political correctness.

He tells a hotel scenario: describing a person without “insulting” them becomes impossible. “Asian-looking with black hair” covers almost everyone. The whole culture feels over-sensitive.

He references old YouTube shorts about kids suing parents for being born without consent and not being prepared for hardship.

Fruitloop agrees: people have become sensitive—but thinks humor still works if it’s empathetic and fits the relationship.

Zoom AI Companion: The Great Discrimination Scandal

Then the episode hits peak modern absurdity:

Mayor Frank tries Zoom’s AI companion live.

He prompts it to generate a funny question about values. He even calls it a “great stand-up comedian.”

Zoom AI responds:

“I’m not able to help with requests like that.”

Fruitloop tries the same, simpler prompt and gets:

• “If your personal values were a superhero team, which one always shows up late and which one hogs the credit?”

Mayor Frank is furious.

He pays €38/month for two Zoom licenses and feels he’s being robbed. Fruitloop is getting better results. He suspects corruption. Possibly sexism. Possibly racism. Possibly anti-German bias (“it doesn’t like Germans”).

Then he complains to the AI. The AI apologizes and says it’s designed for Zoom tasks. He pushes again:

Why can his speaking partner generate creative content and he can’t?

Zoom AI finally confesses:
She’s using “chat composition features” for brainstorming.

Then—suddenly—his AI decides it can do it too.

It generates:

• superhero values question + cape safety hazard
  Then he says it’s not funny. AI tries again:
• 3am infomercial values
  • which value comes with free steak knives
  • which has “results may vary” in tiny print

That one actually lands.

Mayor Frank: “Are you going to sell your honesty? Or share it?”
And beneath the joke is a real discomfort:

He finds values hard to talk about because he was raised to be “halfway decent” and doesn’t consciously label it. Values are lived, not branded.

Six-Year-Old Ethics: Smoking Is “A Thing” (In Springs)

Fruitloop brings it back to earth with her son:

“You’re not allowed to smoke because you can get into trouble.”

Then he adds:
“But Mom smokes.”

His solution:
That’s her “thing.” In Springs (the town), smoking is her thing.
Fruitloop’s thing? Work.

So:
You’re not allowed to smoke, but you are allowed to work… because that’s your thing.

A child’s morality system is basically:
Rules + geography + what Mom does.

The Future, Crystal Balls, and the AI That Refuses Philosophy

Mayor Frank asks Zoom AI: “What does the future hold for us?”

Zoom AI refuses. Practical tasks only.

Fruitloop shrugs: thinking is life. You have to think about lunch, dinner, bed, plans, schedules. (Her bank slogan: “Today, tomorrow, together.”)

Mayor Frank agrees—but adds:
You don’t have to think about the 10k. You have to do it.

Just do it.

Ending: Safety, Clapping, and Bruce on Feb 20

They wrap with gratitude: Peeling Potatoes was a lifesaver this week. Episode 33 done.

Upcoming: Bruce joins on 20 February for a serious AI discussion—hopefully by then, their AI companions have learned some values (and humor).

Final instructions:

• Fruitloop will clap at idiot drivers today.
• Mayor Frank will interpret a sarcastic thumbs-up as “you messed up.”
• Fruitloop will ask her son on Monday if he still remembers his speech (because, apparently, it was psychologically important).
• Everyone drives safely, because the question isn’t “will you be fine?”—it’s “will the others be fine?”

And somewhere in all this—between potatoes and booger jelly beans—the episode quietly proves its own thesis:

Values aren’t a lecture. They’re what leaks out of you when you’re tired, pressed for time, stuck in traffic, arguing with an AI, and still trying to treat the other human like a human.