The musings of a madman...

  (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

     I tend to try to mind my own damned business most of the time. My brain, however, is a BUSY place and a torturous situation comes from when I am forced against my will to re-litigate old cases. Worry not, nothing happening here has been discussed in previous stories. Anyways… When I run back down memory lane sometimes I get NEW mad all over again, sometimes as pissed as one might get when the misdeed is actively transpiring.      When I get pissed or anxious, I try to make myself busy. I do this to quell the “noise” in my head. Not noise as in literal sound, but as in the cacophony of shit in my head that in a past lifetime would drive me fucking nuts until I drank myself to sleep. Needless to say, I have unlearned that habit. Nowadays I write, I exercise until my knees and hips make me stop, I clean house, I think about writing while I am working out or cleaning, I research and plan lawn care, I do WHATEVER I can to combat the noise. To quote a good friend: “ADHD… It’s

       I know it feels like I talk about this a lot lately, but by the time the two of you read this, I will be within 20 ounces of the lowest I have weighed since I discovered food and alcohol as a combination. Even that low-water mark was the result of a bad accident that led to a broken jaw and me off of solid foods for eight weeks in 2003.      Covid season created a world wherein I was ABSOLUTELY not social outside of what could be attained from my phone or one of my computers. I was work/eat/sleep/work/drink/sleep/work, week in and week out and the weight that had been yo-yo’ing between 245 and 270 was firmly at 265. I felt like shit and decided to do something about it. July 2022, I decided to take out the running shoes I’d already acquired and hit the pavement. Three weeks later, I ended my (then-) 26-year relationship with alcohol. The first few pounds slid right off no problem. Nothing noticeable, not on a “go buy new clothes” level, but the scale was telling it for