The musings of a madman...

       In approximately 53 days I will have been working from the comfort of my home for three years…   While home, I have access to the whole of the internet on my phone and/or personal laptop right here next to the work PC without the constraints placed on by my employer.   That means that no one will question what is on my screen on Twitter, Reddit or whatever social media app I may so happen to have open at any given time.      The funny thing about the Twitter algorithm is that it seems to suggest similarities to things you may have posted, followed or liked, no matter how long ago that may have been.   That said, I get a lot of suggestions about hip hop, politics and titties. Today, we will talk a subject adjacent that last one…      Something I have noticed, especially in my perusal of Reddit and Twitter and through unsolicited contacts on Instagram, is that these Covid years have created a new class of “Sex Workers” who don’t have to do, y’know…   actual fucking. Display

       I have recently wasted some valuable time away from work in pursuit of creating a better way. Did y’all miss me?  Did anyone even notice I was gone?      Of late, and as some of you have read, I am having to maintain a promise to dial back the supervillainy a bit.   I can still do my get money shit, I just have to do so in a manner that does not inflict suffering upon people. I will miss the Cicadas thing. So what is the play now? Thanks for asking!      One show I know you have heard of involves a WW2 nurse traveling back in time and falling in love with an 18th-century Jacobite warrior.  I got WAY more into this show than I expected to when my wife sat me down and held my eyes open to make me watch. (live footage) The whole time,  though, I thought to myself “why is this bitch going back to the 1700s from the 1960s with the knowledge of most modern conveniences and ain’t inventing ALL that shit and setting her progeny up to be the world’s first trillionaire dynasty o

     It should come as no surprise to anyone that I truly detest rom-coms…      Perhaps it is irrational of me, and the fact that they keep making them suggests that SOMEONE is enjoying this shit so I am powerless to stop them.  A companion issue is my own behavior when I am (even recognizably) irrationally against something. Not to let you in on anything more than you need to know about me – even if you have been reading these stories for the past several years – but I am a pretty funny dude sometimes.  I mean, I joke about things in poor taste that likely should not be joked about, but I understand the greater objective idea of what is humorous. Never mind that though.      As I get older, I become more of a homebody.  Hell, all my cool stuff is here!  All my toys and electronics, books and a firepit…  And we got doggies!  Who needs to go outside? Despite this, sometimes my wife leans on me to go out and hang with my friends sometimes.  This neglects that a lot of my friends

“Just talk it out…”      That seems like a simple enough instruction to follow, right? Well let me explain something.   I am a middle child by birth order, a creative weirdo by nature and a bit of a misunderstood outcast due to both of the above. …   I also talk about writing like underground rappers talk about rapping.   It is something I enjoy and I am good at.      You know what I DON’T do a lot and never became particularly good at?   Talking! This isn’t to say I am inarticulate or lack vocabulary, I am just used to “sit down and shut up” as a parenting technique that I tend to silently watch a room until I need to talk.      Unless I am excited. When I am excited, unless the audience is similarly interested in what I am yammering on about then I fully expect to feel the “sit down and shut up” vibe I was raised on.   The only difference is nobody better put their hands on me, lest there will be an expensive lesson taught. The same can be said for topics that I am par

       I once said “I’on know who’s big mama need to hear this, but Ginger Ale is just soda.” I was immediately jumped by six nonagenarian grandmothers with canes.   I legit did not learn my lesson about THINKING such things, only about saying them aloud.      So I got to thinking…   How many more of those “remedies” they gave us in the 80s that didn’t actually cure shit, so much as made us just a little bit more comfortable until our honestly-pretty-damned-effective immune systems circled up the wagons and handled business as designed?   The Google search sent me down an internet rabbit hole which I found both intriguing and re-traumtizing, I will talk to my therapist about that part next week…      It also gave me an idea… Remember, back in Soft Eyes , when I explained just how much you could get away with just on the strength of the fact that people don’t pay attention to shit?   Well we’re back on that!      I had to put a plan in action and that plan clearly required some