The musings of a madman...

  [ Phlip Note : this is a collaborative effort, cowritten by Mr. Ssippi ] Nobody:   Me: “Shouldn't the Brady Bunch DAUGHTERS have another last name other than Brady?”   We came to this conclusion through extensive research that Carol made Mike adopt all three kids.   It worked out well as she had poisoned her daughters against their biological father and wanted to make sure that she and the girls had new surnames to make it difficult to find them. She'd run from the very concept of that flawed man she had married and left behind in a former life with no intention of revisiting.   Mike Brady had a small inkling of what Carol and the girls had endured before their blended family came together, but he never got all the details. He didn't want to put Carol through the torture of rehashing those years for the benefit of his curiosity.   He was from the old school, where trauma was best left undiscussed and in the past. The erstwhile untold truth was that she killed he

(look who's back, y'all!)       This honestly could have stopped with PETA , but they didn’t wanna play along. … no, seriously, click that link and come back here when you’re done…      Welcome back… So anyway, this whole shit could have stopped with PETA, but now I am here concerned with the plight of the poor Naugas, of which I now have a small ranch that I am running to care for them.  I don’t know if y’all know this or not, but raising and healthily engaging with all these Naugas is resource intensive in time, money and effort.  What I am sure you all know is that I do that with the salary I earn from a regular-ass job – well, what I have left after paying these bills.      The first thing I tried to do was to sue the creators of Instagram, on the grounds that they had stolen something from me.  No not the concept of shittying up the resolution of pictures to show off to people who don’t actually like me anyway, but the actual NAME ‘Instagram’.  For me, I would crea

In this journey, I have made a lot of acquaintances. For such a not-people-person , people tend to be drawn to me and this comes as a shock and even annoyance to me sometimes. I am good to the ones I like, try to maintain a civil indifference to the ones I’m “even” on, and a marked indifference to the ones I don’t like. New people tend to not like me at first and usually warm up to me. It is my sense of humor and the fact that I possess a seemingly endless supply of information about INFURIATINGLY useless details that throws some newcomers. Today, we will talk about a recently-acquired  new “friend”  whose initial dislike of me was more because he thought I was a criminal than the fact that I talk a lot when I get excited. It starts with a phonecall. Normally, I wouldn’t answer unknowns, but it was from a 336-373 exchange, so it would be from the City of Greensboro or some other entity downtown… Me: “Hello?” Caller: “Hey Phillip, it’s me.” Me: “You gotta be mo’ pacific.” C