THE FIRST ANNUAL REYNOLDS SUBSTACK SUPPORT GROUP MEETING
THE FIRST ANNUAL REYNOLDS SUBSTACK SUPPORT GROUP MEETING
Official Meeting Minutes
By Jim Reynolds | www.reynolds.com
May 30, 2026
Although none of the participants were aware of it at the time, the first annual meeting of the Reynolds Substack Support Group convened under ideal Southern California conditions at Olamendi’s Restaurant on Pacific Coast Highway in Capistrano Beach.
The existence of the organization was not formally recognized until the following morning.
The pleasant weather was also confirmed at that time.
Attendance included six members: R, G, J, V, Bob, and Jim.
The restaurant was surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon, suggesting either exceptional timing or that the general public had wisely chosen not to interfere with what would soon become one of the least organized gatherings in modern history.
Since G was the only non-local attendee, much of the afternoon was devoted to his interests, beginning with an extensive presentation on competitive shotgun shooting.
Within minutes, the group had learned more about shotgun gauges than any of us had anticipated. Twelve gauges, twenty gauges, .410s, competition shooting, gold-plated firearms, shoulder injuries, trap shooting, and skeet shooting were all discussed in detail.
V recalled owning a .410 while growing up.
G casually mentioned that he had once ranked 17th in the world among approximately 30,000 competitors.
This seemed like a significant accomplishment.
G explained that a clay bird had malfunctioned during an important competition and unexpectedly veered off to the right.
He missed it.
Bob: 🅱️ “So your entire life was determined by defective Chinese software?”
G pointed out that this happened long before software was involved.
Bob:🅱️ “Then it was defective American hardware.”
The matter was considered settled.
The group quickly determined that this single target may have altered the entire trajectory of G’s life. Had he ranked 12th instead of 17th, international fame might have followed, eventually preventing him from attending this meeting altogether.
History often turns on small pivots.
The discussion then moved into the differences between trap and skeet shooting.
Trap shooting appeared straightforward enough. The shooter stands behind a launcher and waits for targets to emerge in one of several directions, always moving away.
Skeet shooting sounded considerably more complicated. Participants move through various shooting stations while clay birds launch simultaneously from two separate houses.
The birds cross paths.
The shooter attempts to break both.
Nobody asked whether G had ever shot an actual duck.
The omission remains under investigation.
G also confessed to being a devoted reader and fan of Bob.
Apparently, Bob’s comments are frequently reread.
This did not surprise anyone.
G argued that Reynolds deserved a much larger audience.
Jim countered that he rather liked the current readership. The comments section remained civilized, thoughtful, and largely free of people demanding that everyone be arrested.
There are many ways to increase readership.
There are also many ways to attract riff-raff.
Bob: 🅱️ “Growth is overrated. Every restaurant eventually discovers the point at which success ruins the food.”
G remained unconvinced.
Bob appeared unconvinced that G was unconvinced.
At some point, the conversation drifted toward Mighty Mouse.
Nobody remembers exactly how.
Suddenly portions of the theme song were being performed from memory.
“Here I come to save the day!”
rang out repeatedly.
Arm-pointing accompanied several performances.
G enthusiastically joined in.
Additional verses were recalled with surprising accuracy by people who occasionally forget why they walked into a room.
“That means that Mighty Mouse is on the way!”
“Mr. Trouble never hangs around when he hears this mighty sound!”
There may have been others.
The historical record is incomplete.
What is known is that audience participation was enthusiastic.
At one point Jim felt obligated to explain the Reynolds Method of writing.
The presentation included lexical compression, narrative structures, and cognitive framing.
The audience responded by immediately changing the subject.
Bob: 🅱️ “You should have started with the roof-jumping.”
The audience nodded.
The chairman noted that Bob had a point.
Recognizing defeat, Jim abandoned literary theory and shifted to childhood roof-jumping.
This proved substantially more popular.
A story was shared involving a single-story roof, a front lawn, and a successful landing aided by a tactical roll.
No injuries were reported.
This prompted a second story involving the neighboring garages on Dos Rios Road in Downey, California.
One garage roof.
Then another.
A five-to-six-foot gap.
Twelve feet above the ground.
Two boys.
No helmets.
No supervision.
No hesitation.
The assembled members seemed surprised that children would casually leap between rooftops.
Bob:🅱️ “Children used to assume they were indestructible.”
A pause followed.
Bob:🅱️ “The amazing thing is how often they were right.”
Rob, the mean kid from across the street, figured prominently in the story.
Rob threatened limb-breaking whenever cooperation seemed insufficient.
Yet he also played accordion.
Raised pigeons.
Fed them corn.
Told good stories.
Like many childhood acquaintances, he was difficult to categorize.
Discussion then shifted to the Rio Hondo River.
The six cousins routinely climbed fences and explored the river bottom, city dump, and surrounding territory.
Used mud flaps, cracked reflectors, half-burned flares, and squashed traffic cones were regularly acquired.
One activity Jim refused to participate in involved navigating the massive drainage pipes that emptied into the river.
The others ventured deep inside.
Little Jimmy rarely made it past fifty feet.
He worried about encountering mysterious river kids.
In retrospect, those river kids were probably worried about encountering us.
At some point Jim signed exactly two autographs.
One was for G.
The other was for the restaurant.
After relocating to R and J’s rooftop patio in San Clemente, attention briefly turned toward investment strategies.
G advocated covered calls.
Claims involving twenty percent returns under a variety of market conditions were presented.
No regulatory agencies were present.
The discussion survived.
As often happens during long evenings, embarrassing life stories surfaced.
Jim contributed several.
John Reynolds was discussed.
The group learned that artificial intelligence had recently struggled to process the reality of brother John’s accomplishments.
First came the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra. First horn.
Then decades as a first-call studio musician.
Then the custom vehicle fabrication and successful Youtube channel.
Then the fact that he won the first King of the Hammers competition driving a vehicle he personally designed and built.
Bob: 🅱️ “AI is fine with superheroes as long as they’re fictional.”
At this point Jim suspected he might actually be breaking the machine.
The machine appeared to be considering the possibility.
Meanwhile, V introduced the remarkable story of Alfred Loomis and Tuxedo Park.
The discussion covered radar development, scientific coordination, military preparedness, World War II, and the atomic bomb.
Fifteen minutes later the conversation had somehow arrived at Boone’s Farm wine.
Bob: 🅱️ “History is just one thing leading logically to another.”
No one challenged this interpretation.
G and R recalled their years as roommates.
G shared an important life lesson.
“Always take a traveler.”
This initiated a movie trivia challenge.
J was asked to identify the film.
Clue number one: Clint Eastwood directed it.
No answer.
Clue number two: Savannah, Georgia.
Still nothing.
Finally, Jim began singing:
“Skyl-a-r-k, won’t you tell me…”
V immediately identified the film.
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.
Order was restored.
Briefly.
As darkness settled over San Clemente, Jupiter and Venus became visible between the palm trees surrounding the Ole Hanson Recreation Center.
The final recurring topic of the evening involved San Clemente’s trolley system.
G maintained that insufficient guidance had been provided regarding trolley operations.
Meanwhile, a trolley appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
Then another.
The trolleys arrived every fifteen minutes with machine-like consistency.
Bob:🅱️ “I think the trolley has provided all the guidance it can.”
Nobody disputed the observation.
As planned in retrospect, the first annual Reynolds Substack Support Group meeting adjourned promptly at 9:00 p.m.
The chairman thanked everyone for attending.
The staff was commended for its tireless efforts to keep the proceedings organized and on topic.
Bob:🅱️ “Next year we’ll try to stay focused.”
A trolley rolled by.
Nobody believed him.
TGIF
Wow! And to think I spent much of my morning actually reading everything in a vain attempt to find something internationally, or nationally relevant. Total frustration. But hope springs eternal.