The musings of a madman...

       My laptop is next to my work-work computer for non-work “research” purposes and my desktop is out in my mancave next to the Playstation for music and fun purposes.   Both tend to have a tab open leading to my email inbox.      Like most of us, I tend to go weeks – MONTHS – at a time and rarely ever look at one folder in my email box.   Yes, that is the ever infamous spam folder. Of course, nothing of particular usefulness was there during the time of neglect.   Sure, a couple of messages that SHOULD have found one of my filtered inbox folders had eked to the junk mail folder, but the fact that I had not missed them basically served it that I could give a fuck less…      …   but I was bored. I clicked on a couple of emails and noticed that “Warren Edward Buffett” apparently uses a Gmail address that has nothing to do with his real name.   Not only that, he sends random people on the internet messages with opportunities to collect LIFE CHANGING amounts of money if only they

       I don’t know if y’all know this but unless I have somewhere to be or something to do directly after work, I watch Maury Povich twice a day every weekday.   Everyone who has watched even one episode knows that Maury’s #1 draw is the paternity tests, complete with the “you are/NOT the father!” declarations.   Witnessing the embarrassment of others live on television is something I find entertaining, for better or worse.   We’ve discussed that before.      Of late – like, say, the last year or two – Maury’s show has been used as a natural “in” to sell up those ancestry DNA testing kits as well.   It is kind of a cruel sick joke that a show that has made their nut on embarrassing the shit out of people to be shilling “legitimate” DNA testing as well, but that is none of my business. So one day last fall, Wife Person sees the ancestry DNA testing segment and says “we should order a kit!”   Without having the brainpower to ask why or even remember how horrible an idea this might

       I tend to make notoriously horrible financial decisions… It is a small miracle that I have been in this house for almost 12 years without my mortgage company coming to kick my door in as just rewards for my own stupidity.      As y’all may recall, I famously sank all of our liquid cash into a risky crypto bet just a couple of weeks ago.   As it stands, I have still made some money on that, but not enough to quit my job like some nerds on the internet said I would be able to.   I am pretty sure my wife hasn’t checked the joint account balance recently, but I sweat profusely every time she pulls her phone out and I cannot see her screen.      I need to make a comeup real soon… With some luck, I had sank money I (we) already had into to the Meme Crypto market, and my stimmy check HAPPENED to show up a couple of days later so I was not exactly “broke.”   Not yet at least. When, despite the egging along of the likes of Elon Musk, Snoop Doge and even a mention from Mark Cub

     Times these days are tougher than a $2 steak cooked well done. When “times” don’t allow me much time to go out into the world without my wife in tow, my misadventures become considerably more difficult.   The long and short is that I cannot include her in my little hustles unless she is a willing participant.  With school back in, I get enough free time when she has to go to the school for meetings and such. Some years ago I encountered a video where a dude used some plaster of paris and sand to make a small foundry in a bucket for smelting metal in your back yard for casting on a smaller level or, one might infer, scrap metal recycling.   Some metals can scare up to a couple of bucks a pound, whereas silver and gold can scare up a ton more than that.   The issue at hand is that recycling centers have upped the security bar and questions they ask of you approach with a ton of copper piping and don’t have a professional (and licensed) reason to have it in your posses