The musings of a madman...

       I’m not a person you want to know is on your nerves or you don’t like… At the big-ass age of 44 years and 356 days (this is a leap year), I got over the “try to make it right” shit sometime around the near-death experiences in 2003 and 2018. You don’t like me? Cool, I don’t particularly care for me either, but I love myself more than would allow me to stress myself to baldness over it, like ya mama did. To be completely honest, when I find out someone doesn’t like me – especially if I am already less-than-warm on them – I am moreso looking at how to make it WORSE than to try rectifying shit. Die mad.      Y’all wanna know something funny about Al Gore’s Rhythm on the interwebs? Once you have interacted with someone/something – be it positive or negative – you’re more likely to come back across them/it when you’re online. Bear that in mind when that one asshole you seem to always find yourself disagreeing with on a mutual friend’s posts. ...

       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 be...