1,200 Days

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True Story©… The M-O-Equalizer

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       I’ve been misusing  Moe Phillips . Not to say or try to suggest that Moe is a real person, but the time I have spent using that name to complete the Shenanigous missions that no sane person would dare to do with their own name appended may have gotten a bit out of hand.      Most Sunday evenings, I watch The Equalizer with Queen Latifah as she plays a street mercenary taking on jobs to help people in peril who come to her for help.  No, what she is doing is not legal as it is presented, but she is usually more adept and attentive in solving these people’s problems than are the local police. I had an idea… “Do you need assistance and can’t get help?  Contact Moe Phillips at 336-xxx-xxxx.  No job too big or too small.”      I posted that shit ALL OVER the place.  FaceBook, Craigslist, Angi, local bulletin boards, printed and put on the corkboard at grocery stores next to the ‘have you seen my fluffy’ pictures, on NextDoor – you name it!  I wanted as many eyes on this shit as abso
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Loyalty

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     I’m as stingy with loyalty as I am with respect. I don’t often avail myself to people, so the ones I have shared any information they felt should not be shared had better be treated as if they should die with it. As bad as my memory happens to be in the short term, it is dangerous when the topic is things that I feel are important.      My continued circle consists of people I have been given reason to be loyal and respectful to. Sure, I am prone to fits of personal stupidity, but I am at least dumb enough to not be interested in majorly fucking up my plays in a manner I might find egregious.      I have a team… A twin brother, a best friend, several really good friends and some cats that I have never actually met in person.  The amount of “me” that I have given these people is a testament to who I perceive them to be.  This is usually a result of what they have done with or for me with no reason to otherwise.  This is usually a result of shared common interest
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True Story©… A Street of Bourbon

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       When I was a kid I only travelled outside of my home state a VERY few times, and never outside of the time zone I was born in until I was an actual adult.   Never set foot on a plane until I was 20.   Everywhere we went was driveable distances.   It became such a “thing” that even in adulthood, I will sooner drive out trips that many people will fly. Kid me, having only been to Williamsburg and the beach in VA, then Atlanta after that – outside of visits to grandma’s family down in the sticks in SC – used to think that the lines one saw on a map would be visible out in the world as you travel.   Like there would be a white line marking the exit of one state and into the next.      Adult me, as soon as the constraints of being a broke child were off, got the fuck out and around the country even if to be inconvenienced by the habit of driving instead of even CONSIDERING flying.      One such trip transpired and the young age of 21… I rented a car because I was driving an abs
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