The musings of a madman...

       “So where was he?” you ask… The short answer would be “away for two weeks,” but the full picture is much MUCH deeper.      Part of me wants to just up and tell you “look, I lost track of what day it was week before last and landed myself in the ER last week and got thrown off,” but where would be the fun in that? Let’s go back, way back into time to the distant time coordinates of Monday August 19… I had a doctor’s appointment that morning and, after noticing that I have a TON of unused leave time at work, decided to take the whole day off instead of just the couple of hours to cover my appointment/lab time. My visit goes fine and I swing by the lab to have my blood drawn on the way back to the house to cut my front yard. As I have made some adjustments to my mower which anyone connected to me on BookFace has seen, I double-cut the yard so it took me 30 minutes instead of 13. Still no biggie.      What happened next is the beginning of my problems… I finish the lawn,

       At the big-ass age of 45, I have been alive for 11 rounds of the summer Olympics. Two of the games have been held in the United States thus far, 1984 and 1996. I will not pretend to REMEMBER the ‘84 games, but had been about as attentive as one can be to the games since 1988 and on. I can say with absolute certainty that the last-week-concluded games seemed to gather the most interest and discussion of any in history. It could be that NBC/Peacock had round-the-clock coverage of the games, it could be that America’s Uncle Snoop Dogg seemed to have devised a means of being EVERYWHERE in Paris at the same damned time, or it could be the effective building of storylines across sporting disciplines gathering our collective interests.      LA is getting the games back in 2028 and will have big shoes to fill, given the can’t-look-away nature that the Paris games gave us. There is generally about a 2-full-weeks break between the regular Olympiad and the Paralympics which will be

  It has been a wild couple of weeks in America… President Biden, perhaps based on the fallout from how he handled the debate and frankly physical age, decided he would pass the mantle in the race for the presidency this cycle. What a VERY few people realize, though, is that Kamala was not his first choice to take the torch and run with it.  Believe it or not, I was!  Sunday before last, I am chillin on my couch when my phone rings… Me: “Hello?” Joe: “Phillip?  It’s Joe.” Me: “This shit ain’t funny, my granddaddy died in 1980.” Joe: “Joe Biden…” Me: “Oh, that makes more sense–… wait, what!?” Joe: “Yes, as in president Joe Biden.” Me: “Whatever the FBI guy watching me has told you–…” Joe: “… nevermind that, that’s not why I’m calling.” Me: “So what’s up?” Joe: “As you may well know, I have spent basically two-thirds of my life in public service and elected office.” Me: “Mhmm…” Joe: “And, frankly, it is time for me to bow out.” Me: “I’ve been reading that and do not disagree.  But wh

       Anyone else’s Instagram reels feed just up and decided that your eternal damnation was your own damned problem? Conversations between myself, Mr. Ssippi and Alabama Jay over the last two weeks have informed that I am not alone in this.      At the beginning of July my Insta reels feed was simple and easily in line with things that interest me; dogs, lawn striping videos, car content, and the occasional impossibly huge titties . Without linking to anything specific – unless you’ve recently received a text from me about this – let’s just say that one day I clicked on a video and noticed that it had a TON of comments on it. The immaturity in me found the conversation fucking HILARIOUS, but the intelligent in me knew that they were some fucked up comments. Later on that same day, I’m scrolling and thinking to myself “sure is a lot of Down’s Syndrome in these reels” and quickly followed that with “why are there so many damn comments on all of these?” [ Phlip note: don’t judge m

  I am no longer allowed to enter the hardware store nearest my house… “Why?” you ask? Well it has a great deal to do with the fact that my idle hands are often, in fact, the devil’s playground.  We will make that sentence make sense in a little while, but first we gotta explain that I get A LOT of time off of work every year and I have to use it or lose it.  We’ve discussed this and what I often do with that time before.  What is only apparent to people who are connected to me either very personally or on FaceBook is that every summer I take what I have come to call “birthcation,” wherein I do not work my full time job at all on the week of my birthday. July 1rd was my 45st birthday ($callmephlip if you’re still feeling residually gifty, I celebrate all month) and I was naturally scheduled off of work-work the whole week.  Rather than spend big money GOING anywhere, I used the time to relax and work on some household projects in between my random acts of extreme laziness and n