The musings of a madman...

       Weird things happening nowadays... One would think that I am NOT the one to be asking for serious advice, especially after reading the shenanigous outcomes I tend to prefer. Despite that, here we are. I've been busy with yard work and Tiny Little™ , so "outside" is not something I've particularly been able to participate in, so while she was napping, I opened up the good ol email. "Moe, I'm considering marrying my girlfriend but as much as I love her, I'm still not comfortable that she is the one. Is there anything I could do to know for sure before throwing years of my life away to a poor decision?"      Now... Pragmatically thinking, I would explain to him that if he gotta ASK then he already knows he probably don't trust her and should not move forward. But if I answered with just that, this story would end with the period at the end of this sentence. Instead, I responded and asked for his phone number to ask some more detailed questi...

       With the lawn season winding to a close for the year, I'm having to turn to other things to pass my time. As I explained last month, clearing my Moe Phillips email box of unread messages was entertaining enough, but as a "do it to death" personality, I was finished in no time so here I am, back bored as it gets and a LONG ways to spring.      Nearing the end of my rope and close to my idle hands becoming the devil's playground, I received a phone call on the burner line... Me: "hello?" Her: "is this Moe?" Me: "uhh..." Her: "Moe Phillips? Do I have the right number?" Me: "Yeah, it's me. Who's this?" Her: "You don't know me but you know my father" Me: "Do I?" Her: "Yes, you helped him when he reached out to you last year." Me: "mmhmm" Her: "He is a preacher and he asked you about--..." Me: "... about how to grow his ministry to be able to expand...

       Not to let y’all in on more than you need to know, but I been holding out on you… For every tale of a person who emailed the Moe Phillips box looking for help, I might lend a hand to about one in five. The thing when doling out assistance of the kind that normally comes requested in that email box, I am only beholden to my own opinion. If that opinion is one of judgment, or an active decision that “this one ain’t worth my time and effort” then so be it. Sometimes the “request” comes in as a statement of a problem without an actual suggestion of what outcome the sender might find satisfactory, and I ain’t no fuckin’ mind reader.      So why are we here today? Well, frankly, I got time today… Before I send these emails into the trash bin of history, I will share a couple of the funnier ones with you guys. I will present these in no particular order. This one came in about three weeks ago… “Moe, I see that you solicit for those in need of he...

       I had told myself I wasn’t doing this shit again, really I tried… After that last time , I NEEDED not try this shit again!      My problem is that I can’t idly sit by and do nothing when pressed with a problem I can fix, especially when I can do so without necessarily getting my hands dirty. That said, I'm home trying to lay low after the last weeks’ Vegas adventures – mainly trying not to further draw the ire of Wife Person™ – minding my own damn business when I get an email to the Moe Phillips account… “Moe, I come to you with this because I am really not sure who else I could approach with this. I was recently employed at a small family restaurant where the money and tips were good enough for my lifestyle until a family member needed some financial help and put me and mine in a bit of a bind. I asked the owner if it would be possible to get some more hours to make up what my mother and I had had to lay out to help out and his response wa...

     I just be minding my motherfuckin’ business… I also, unfortunately, have this awful habit of making it my business to make other people’s lives less-than-enjoyable for my own entertainment. With that in mind, one can more than easily imagine how often some shit I have done comes back to bite me in the ass later on down the road.      Rewind back to October, when I made a crude attempt to pitch a gameshow wherein rappers would attempt to cook crack with the prize being that they get to CONTINUE recording. I called it the Wrist Twistin’ Kitchen . Not long after that failure, I received contact from Jiggaboo Jericho Jackson and as we all remember, hilarity ensued .      In my head, I am absolutely clear of any problems that might so happen to arise from my misguided attempt to get rich on the interwebs and I am now free to move on to my continued supervillainy normal life, right? RIGHT?!!? Wrong™!      Despite, per the ...

       When I was little, I was always stoked to spend time with my granddad… At surface-level, he would come home from work in the mornings and during the summer we would be at the house already while mom was at work. Before sleeping his day off, we would go with him to play tennis on the courts at the high school around the corner from his house. We would go to the park across the street and hit golf balls. On Sunday mornings, he would take us to this little greasy spoon diner for breakfast.      During all of these excursions, he would talk to my brother and I. We would learn whether the words coming were from a positive or a corrective place depending solely on whether he started with “son” or “boy,” respectively. One time when we were about twelve we were at the diner having breakfast almost as soon as he came home from work, as in he didn’t even bother with changing clothes, when he looked over his coffee cup and says “y’all make sure, more...

  (look ma, new AI generator!)      Early last year, I came up with the harebrained scheme to travel back to pre-Rhodesia southern Africa – around present-day Zimbabwe – and slit Cecil Rhodes’ throat before he got a chance to ruin the continent… Read about it above if you don’t recall how that went over (surprise - NOT well!)      Anyway… Y’all know if you read last January or just now that I took EXTRA special care to not put myself in position to get anyone pregnant while I was there. This will matter more shortly. It’s spring, y’all! That means I get to go outside-outside and exercise instead of spending countless hours on my exercise bike. Furthermore, I get to take the dogs with me sometimes. So there it is, last weekend while my mom was out of town, I was tasked with caring for her dog. As a boxer, this dog has a BARREL full of energy that needs to be gotten out. In so much, I geared up for a walk and went to take Luna for a stroll thro...

  Life is pretty boring lately… I say that to say that there is plenty going on but most of it is pretty mundane “adulting” shit.  I guess one could see how that might mean things are pretty okay but knowing/observing how my brain works, one could ALSO see the need for some excitement.  I mean, I know spring is right around the corner and will bring with it constant yard work and sundresses (and the cleavage that comes with those) , but right now is right now. As I reached the end of my chain, my phone rings – my PERSONAL phone – and I kind of have to answer that when it rings for reasons I don’t need to get into right here and now. Me: “Hello?” Caller: “Phillip, it’s me…” Me: “Sir, there are like eight billion people on this planet.” Caller: “Detective Woodpe–… fuck–…  SHIT!!!  Detective Woodcock.” Me: “Naughty, naughty there, detective Woodpenis, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Woodpenis: “My mother is deceased.” Me: “And you’re sitting around kissi...