The musings of a madman...

       Y’know?   Sometimes I have the toughest of times getting out of my own damned way.   I should say, I guess, that my own way finds a way of staying in front of me.   Every time I think I have dispatched of a former situation, something directly related to it finds its way back into my life.      As the two of you may recall, I once tried to make a movie and the whole thing literally and figuratively went up in flames.   I escaped the situation – again literally and figuratively – unburned until I was revisited by it a couple of years down the road. My handling of it all seemed to me that I had rid myself of it to the point where I could go on with my life.   New house, new puppy, new outlook and all.   Everything is good right? RIGHT?!!? Wrong™!      [ Phlip note : unless you received a DM from me on Instagram at/about 4pm on November 12 rd , please click the link below before continuing ] [ link ]      Now just why in the great blue hell would I be yammering on ab

  (not to be confused with the SONG that never ends...)      Funny thing, this whole living a life chronicled in True Story©… [ Phlip note : there’s the thing, already! ] You’re told in school to take notes knowing that the information covered and ostensibly noted will come up when it is time for a knowledge check.   Similarly, typing out the exploits here to be followed by interested onlookers allows anyone reading to look back and realize that this comes off as not a collection of stories, but an infinitely expanding connected singular one.      Chronicling the exploits in detail also lays immediately bare the “dammit, this again” feeling when some shit I dealt with before decides to fall back into my life. Something I should have learned about supervillainy watching superhero cartoons for the last 89% of my life is that villainy, as karma is concerned, is NEVER ending.   You can do dirt, but that also means you will have a rough go of getting away from said dirt.      I can

       Imagine being a creative being who spends an exorbitant amount of time in your own way while trying to create…      For those keeping score at home, back in 2017 I attempted to make a movie.   I was wrong as shit, using little people labor and never explaining to them what it was I was up to in the moment.   In my own bit of karmic comeuppance, I saw the whole thing literally go up in smoke and almost cost me my whole damned shirt in the process… …   almost… Small (pun totally intended) details in the background saved my ass legally and civilly.      But in the real-real world, I was still found.   Three years ago next week, I was located by one of the involved little parties and accosted for ideas for an “out.”   Just my fucking luck, I know. I cooked up a quick scheme to get him out of his (and my) own way and all is well, right? RIGHT?!!?      Wrong™!        I.ve often joked about the FBI agent across the street from my house in the woods.   I no longer live a

       For someone whose lifestyle is prone to misadventures that the two of you come here every Thursday to enjoy, it only stands to reason that I live in a constant existential fear that some small-at-the-time bullshit that I did months – YEARS – ago will one day come back and bite me on the ass. Wait… Y’all remember the time I tried to make a movie? What about now ? Welcome back.      So last week Tuesday or Wednesday, I am pretty sure it was Tuesday. I was walking Thunder on my lunch break during a commercial break while Judge Jerry was on.  A car comfortably comes to a stop in front of my house, in stark contrast to the screeching halt I normally witness when I am about to be accosted.  A midget little person climbs down and toddles over to me.  I stop him as he gets inside of about leash distance but still not close enough to touch my dog, “I’m isolating from close contact with SIX people who tested positive last week, might want to stop there.” and his approached stopped

                For the first couple of weeks after I got home from Guantanamo , I was kinda messed up.  Basically just didn’t know how to approach the world and always on edge.  They say that one experiences things similar to PTSD when they have been subjected to torture conditions and yes waterboarding IS torture. With these things front of mind, it was understood that I was often angry about my situation or moreso just that I HAD to be placed into that one.  With no real outlet but luckily still gainfully employed, I took on the task of messing with other people’s lives for my own entertainment.                 I’d read lurid stories about how, during the taping of The Wizard of Oz in 1939, the people who played the munchkins were basically a weird drunken mob of 120+ little people during their off-camera time.  The reason for this is that this was the first time that many – well, most – of them had ever been around OTHER little people.  Some were foreign and many already in