The musings of a madman...

     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 rules of the gameshow, Jiggabo Jericho being the only one “

       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 than anything, you take care of y

  (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 through the parks around my mother’s n

  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 kissing on her instead of bur

       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