The musings of a madman...

       I couldn’t stay out for long… Me, this Moe Phillips thing, my continued petty crime spree, I am drawn to it like a moth to a flame.   Consistency with my prior edict to use Moe Phillips for net good remains in place at least.      First thing’s first…   I KNOW Detective Woodpenis is watching his wire to be sure that Moe isn’t acting up again, for which he has promised to come for my ass.   Of course, there needs to be a new burner phone, since I gave the old one to the unhoused person to use out when I left the station last time.   Instead of making a purchase near my home, I drove to surrounding cities and approached people on highway exits with signs.   For a couple of bucks for whatever they wanted to buy, they would go into the store and buy me a burner phone.   I did this three times.   Why three?   I would stash one burner in a location away from my house.   THIS would be *the* number for people to call me on.   I silenced it, and plugged it in at a YMCA locker room

  I kind of saw this shit coming… One could point to that premonition as the very reason for my recent commitment to rehabbing the Moe Phillips name.      As the both of you know I have been working from home since two days after Meka’s birthday in 2020. [ Phlip Note : HI MEKA!!! ] Since then, and as documented in these very pages, I have employed Moe Phillips in my miscreance as a means of making some semblance of fun out here in this fucked up world without the onus of facing the circumstances of my actions. … until I had to face the consequences of my actions.      Last Wednesday, I watched out of the window of my lower-level window as a Greensboro PD cruiser stopped in front of my house and sat there for a few minutes before approaching my door. Oh shit. Rather than allow them to get all the way to the door and excite my dogs with the presence of a stranger, I met them at the front porch… Me: “Good afternoon, officers.   What can you help me with?” Detective: “Good a

       I’ve been misusing  Moe Phillips . Not to say or try to suggest that Moe is a real person, but the time I have spent using that name to complete the Shenanigous missions that no sane person would dare to do with their own name appended may have gotten a bit out of hand.      Most Sunday evenings, I watch The Equalizer with Queen Latifah as she plays a street mercenary taking on jobs to help people in peril who come to her for help.  No, what she is doing is not legal as it is presented, but she is usually more adept and attentive in solving these people’s problems than are the local police. I had an idea… “Do you need assistance and can’t get help?  Contact Moe Phillips at 336-xxx-xxxx.  No job too big or too small.”      I posted that shit ALL OVER the place.  FaceBook, Craigslist, Angi, local bulletin boards, printed and put on the corkboard at grocery stores next to the ‘have you seen my fluffy’ pictures, on NextDoor – you name it!  I wanted as many eyes on this shit as abso

       The past was a wild time…   There were people called town criers who would go to the city square and scream the news to everyone who would listen because without child labor laws, it was perfectly normal for people to not know how to read or write. Things being full circle as they are, nowadays people glue themselves to social media and while perhaps they CAN read or write, they choose instead some asshole yelling at a screen on TikTok or Youtube.   The person who won’t read is no better off in this aspect than the person who can’t read.      Anyway, the town crier… Wait!   Y’know, as I have discussed before, I get a LOT of off time at work.   Due to some to-be-sorted health issues I have mostly been playing my off time close to the vest, limiting my Mental Health™ days and instead using that time for date-to-be-determined doctor’s visits and such.   There comes a time, however, that I will have to use the time or lose it so I have to play this delicate game of saving as

       So we’re sitting in the living room eating dinner and watching Jeopardy when the alarm panel and both of our phones chime with the doorbell.  I get up expecting to tell the kids across the street that my daughter is with her mother this week.  It is a white man… “Are you lost?  How can I help you?” I ask through the slightly parted screen door. He hands me a manila envelope and says “you’ve been served” before walking down off of my front porch as I stood aghast.      Wife person looking on asks me what is going on.  I sit back down on the loveseat and open the folder. Me: “We’re being sued…” Wife Person™: “What!?”   Me: “Not you.” Wife Person™: “What the hell are you talking about?”   Me: “Me and Moe.”   …  well I’mma explain this shit to y’all now, same as I am to my wife…      Of late, I have been trying to reform Moe Phillips’ public image.  After spending time with my therapist and learning better coping mechanisms than to drink myself to sleep, I re