The musings of a madman...

       If I could use these powers for good, I am not all the way sure I ever actually would… Wait, put a pin in that.   It will come back up on the final exam.        My city has spent the last few years basically criminalizing homelessness.   The able cannot feed them of their own free will unless they have an organization or church allowed to do so.   They themselves cannot have signs specifically requesting money when standing on the corners and the most insidious is that they have to go downtown and get a PERMIT to stand on the corners with the signs! More recently, there have been signs going up on signs in medians that there is to be no standing there.   This was presented as a necessity to keep traffic safely and unobstructedly moving.      In that last point, I saw an opportunity… The “opportunity,” as it were, involved a newly minted lack of competition for eyeball equity on the corners where drivers become a captive audience. WHAT?!!? Thank you for asking.  

       I’m good at things… As vague as that may sound, I say it like that to say that no matter how good I may so happen to be at a bunch of things out in the real world, I hate – HATE – for my horn to be publicly tooted over it.   That goes for work, home, anywhere really.   That may seem counterproductive come review time at work, but my manager is well aware of this about me and we have a few aliases I jokingly use when I get to work and kill shit. That’s professionally; as in the shit that pays the bills.   Not having people going around talking about me in a manner that would have onlookers look for a chance to pile more of their shit on me is the name of the game.   Personally, it is totally different but basically the same.   When I clock out and come back across this living room, the last thing I want is for someone to make assumptions with my time because some third party informed me I was capable.   There is a space of comfort in being able to remain nondescript.   Being

(Take me to Da Kaing) ...  and to think I almost Googled an image to use instead.      Anyone who follows me on various social media platforms knows that two things my wife and I do is travel and eat.   So much so that we literally travel to eat sometimes.   That said, one of our now-favorite places to go is Las Vegas.   Funny thing is that we classify “favorite” as “places we will go again before ticking somewhere new off of the checklist.”   We were married in Vegas November of 2018, and semi-revisited the scene of the crime to celebrate her birthday at the very end of January this year. While there were SOME people walking around in masks, this was a few weeks before The Rona had fully gripped the nation.      One of the funny things about Vegas is that “The Vegas Experience” begins the very moment you step off of your plane into the airport.   When you step into the terminal, like before you even get to the food courts and even to the baggage claims, you are bombarded with slot

“You do NOT want to hear the punchline to that joke…” I TRIED to warn that asshole.      Standing in the former parking lot of a months-ago-razed factory/former department store. Watching a group of crazy non-agent SWAT team run off with my coal bag, willfully unaware that it won’t produce without me. The federal agents selected to bail me OUT of this shit in their car and leaving me to my own. I am pretty much standing here holding my dick. How did they pull this shit off at 4:23 in the afternoon?  No time for that, I need to get in my car and cry like a little bitch with a skinned knee figure out my next moves.  I know I am PROBABLY going to receive two phonecalls behind this shit.  Or one phonecall and a visit.  Or no phonecalls and two visits.  Or the SWAT team is coming to my house next. FUCK!!!  Coming to my house?  I don’t need that.  I called Mimi and sent her some money via cashapp and told her to get a room until I tell her home is safe to return to.

     For 241 years of American history, it would be a mark of honor to be specifically mentioned by the President of the United States in most capacities. Beginning on November 9, 2016 the dynamic changed to the point where being mentioned by the president was a miss-or-hit affair.  “Don’t you mean ‘hit-or-miss’?,” I hear you asking.  Trust me, when this motherfucker talks about anything, it is soon going to hell.      So now I am no longer a dude who tried to rob Santa for all the world’s gifts and got a undepletable bag of coal for my troubles, I am now a thug with a shotgun who threatens members of the media.      In the past ten months, I have been… -    Roped into a domestic (illegal) sale of coal… -    … parlayed that into sales into other industries… -    … parlayed THAT into even bigger profits and made a ton of money; more than enough to last me a lifetime if invested properly… -    … got greedy right about the time the international market wanted to p

     I bought an Audi. All I did was buy a fucking Audi! I didn’t sell any drugs, perhaps I was wrong for having dealt with a foreign government, and the inconvenience of the logistics of dealing with them leaves it where I am done with those smelly motherfuckers first chance I get ANYWAY.      But here I am, shackled to a chair and cuffed to a table with a couple of federal agents staring at me with the stinkface… Agent: “So…” Me: “Look, just tell me what you need to know.” Agent: “Wanna tell us where you got this shiny new Audi?” Me: “You know EXACTLY what dealership I bought it from, they sent you the paperwork that helped you find m--…” Agent: “SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU KNOW WHAT WE MEAN!” Me: “Well…” Agent: “Where did you get the money?!” Me: “Coal money” Agent: “Coal money?” Me: “Coal money” Agent: “Look, asshole, nothing in your family history suggests any coal country connections, and the amount of coal it would take to make even THIS kind of mon