The musings of a madman...

       My life is largely not what it has been for the most of my adult life.   Most people I know know me well enough to text me instead of calling.   I prefer things that way, as it forces people to the point and elicits a better response from me, what with knowing that a text is committing to a repeatable (or screen-shottable, to make up a word) medium. Sometimes, however, things cannot be left to the chance of a text.   What if my phone is powered off?   What if Wife Person™ has murdered me and buried my body under a single-wide trailer?   What if I dropped my phone when Marcus and I were saving those kids from the burning orphanage Sunday before last?   Sometimes the only way to be sure contact has been made is to have heard my voice and I know this.      I say all that to say that Thursday before last, I got a phone call… Me: “Yo” Homie: “What’s good?” [ Phlip note : I won’t be using any names because I don’t know that his wife is up for me and my shenanigans ] Me: “