The musings of a madman...

       I don’t like going out in public… It isn’t so much that I am antisocial – well I kinda am, but I fuck with who I fuck with and that makes a huge difference – but I have also done an absolute lifetime's worth of fuckshit in the community as the two of you have read in these pages in just the past two years. One of my greatest fears is that I will be out with Wife Person™ and or my little one and something that they don’t know I have done comes face-to-face with me. Don’t tell THEM that, but that is partially why I am so reluctant to go out and be places.      … so I am in The Walmarks a couple of weeks ago, minding my own business, collecting things for the Superbowl party and I hear someone in the distance calling apparently for me… Voice: “S’cuse me. Aye man! AYE!!!” Me: “You talking to me?” Him: “Yeah, yeah man… Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Me: “I’on think I know you bro.” Him: “Yeah, ain’t yo name like–… Somethin’ weird, like Fap Fappington or something like

       What would you do if you were told you had 24 hours to live? Since my cardiac event that landed me in the hospital Summer 2018, I have been dealing with a minefield of doctor and specialists visits usually about every other month. Since the exact cause of my episode could never be pinned down, we keep an eye on everything from my blood pressure, to my asthma and even my kidneys. No stone gets left unturned and, when combined with my recent obsession with sobriety and my physique, shit works out pretty well on a month-to-month basis. Three weeks ago, I got a phone call… Me: “Hello.” Nurse: “Hi, this is your nurse from Dr Samuel’s office.” Me: “Okay” Nurse: “Dr Samuel is going on vacation next week and wants to get you in as soon as possible. You have 24 hours to give blood at the lab so he can review it before he leaves.” Did she say what I think she said!?   Me: “I have–… 24–… hours?” Nurse: “Yes” Me: “Well I guess I got no choice, lemme make some arrangements and deal wi

   [Pt. I can be reached here ] Welcome back…      When I left you, I had 15 unsuspecting individuals pining for a prize that only three of them have a chance at and NONE know exactly what the fuck they’re even competing for. I would use the words “I don’t know how I pulled this off,” but I explained in great detail approximately one month ago EXACTLY how I did that. Anyway… Anyone with a modicum of ability in Google or a mildly working knowledge of Greensboro history knew the answer was 'OLD L. Richardson' hospital on the corner of Benbow Rd and Washington St. A walk downtown Greensboro would suffice to answer this as well from approximately two miles from the location.      My three marks seemed to have no issues either finding or already knowing the information, and had no issues getting to the location for the photographic proof that I demanded. I will not share THEIR pictures because reasons, but I will share a photo that I took of it…      The rest of the 15 mos

       You ever forget previous promises to make good on past transgressions? I promised back in the spring to make better use of Moe Phillips as a concept and citizen and damn near promptly forgot about that shit in a hailstorm of attempts to pay my mortgage off early among other things. [ Phlip note : Rocket is still getting their half-file every other week until I figure this shit out ] Well to be frank, life has gotten so weird since I fixed these blessed fingers to type those words that I straight-up forgot the promise. Or one could say that I HAD forgotten the promise until a couple of months ago, when I received an email on the “ask Moe for help” email address. (misspellings and grammar are assuredly not my own) “Moe,      My wifey n I are lookn for a 3rd to come into our bed wit us, but every time we try 2 mt up wit her or vid chat, she ghost us. She local, bt wnt mk way to see us nd see if it could wrk. We wonted 2 knw if u cld help us mt our new GF. Help pls!”      B

       Kids are, well, kids… I say that to say they’re loud, they talk too much, they’re restless, they test boundaries and they have not yet learned that it is not normal to repeat EVERYTHING they hear. [ Phlip note : to that last point, and given my breaking out into song with the last thing said to me, maybe I am still a kid? ] I say all that to say that the raising of kids should probably be more metered than the parents of gen-X’ers like myself had available to us.      Y’see… I never told anyone this, but before the beard and alcohol, I used to BE a little kid. I was overactive, I talked too much and I had a VIVID fucking imagination. Imagine that, ALL of that. But something was always off, and we would later learn to call that ADHD.      There were attempts to control this short of medication (nope, not in the 80s!) and asswhoopings (yes, plenty of THOSE in the 80s!) , and the middle ground that was attempted with me was bribery. I should put “bribery” in quotation mark