The musings of a madman...

     In all seriousness, I really probably should give more of a fuck about the world and what it thinks of me in general.  The fact of the matter, though, is that I march to the beat of my own drummer.  The “me” that the world is normally allowed to see is an international supervillain, a bearded curmudgeon.      There is this Tiny Human™ in my house who needs a hero.  “DaddyDaddyDaddy” is my routine.  Frustrating as it may be to hear back to back to back, I respond with “yes baby?” and carry it from where it goes. Fun fact: it is fucking EXHAUSTING.  I go out into a world that seems intent on destroying me most times and provide for us, then I come home and put on the happiest face I can.  She picks up on the cues around her and is a very emotional child, I work hard to avoid letting her see me break, despite the inevitable occurrence of it.  It’s human.      To her, I am the smartest, the strongest, the fastest, the best of everything.  True as these things may not be,

( photo credit )      Sometimes when I am all alone, I make up new lyrics to existing songs and repeat them until I remember them.  When the REAL song is on, I will sing  my  lyrics (loudly) and watch for people’s reaction. Misappropriation is not the same thing as misquoting, which is a different (but actually innocent) fun.      I cannot imagine either of you reading the above three sentences without wanting examples, so there is really no reason for me to continue pussyfooting with any lead-in here. One time I’m in my car with my nephews.  I have a radio that is effectively a 6” android computer of sorts, so I have a SanDisk Cruzer in it with all my preferred music on it.  As I picked them up, I was listening to UGK. Album:  Too Hard To Swallow , track 3…   Pocket Full of Stones . I let Bun B’s verse ride right through without issue, but when verse two started… “Back in the days they used to run up saying Pimp C what ya know? I tell 'em get your scones

     While I am WILDLY guarded with my phone number, it has also not changed in almost 17 years, so people who had it in 2000-01 still have it.  What this tends to lead to in the days of smartphones is that a friend will get a new phone every once in a while and I get a text or phone call making sure it is still me connected to an otherwise unused (by them) phone number and then I won’t hear from them again until they clean up their phone again.      When I got home from Mexico in June, I got one such call from my dude Rob… *phone rings* Me: “yoooo…” Rob: “Yo…  Phlip?” Me: “Yeah, this me.  Whatup Bobby.” Rob: “Don’t start that shit again, ‘Phil’” Me: “Point taken, what’s good though?” Rob: “Not shit, just got this new phone and cleaning up the list.” Me: “Yeah, I haven’t endeavored any women crazy enough to need to change it.” Rob: “Heh.  Well I had another question though.” Me: “Yeah, what’s the deal?” Rob: “Well, more of a business opportunity.  You sti

Music frames a great lot of what I do… Back when I first separated/divorced, I was (naturally) back on the dating scene and of course it was vastly different from what I remembered it as from five years prior. Long story short, these new girls were onto the bullshit that the generation ahead of them just had no clue of how to prepare for. As the world in the life of a hunter goes, though, one adapts to catch what you know how to hunt. “Phlip, what in the mad steamy assfuck does this have to do with music?” is what I hear the three (yep, new subscribers!) of you saying right now. Chill, I will get to that in a few minutes. I did the rounds… POF, OKC, and a couple of other sites that aren’t FOR dating but are reduced to about that much. I managed maybe two or three “out” dates, like where I drove and paid for a dinner, and SEVERAL “in” dates, which is “Netflix and chill” before stopping at Cookout for a tray and milkshake on the way back to the crib. Naturally, this s

I am a supervillain. A bearded, hefty, mean-ass supervillain whose short-term memory is terrible, but remembers EXCRUCIATING details of mundane shit that happened forever ago just to hold a grudge.  Shit, that is how I BECAME a supervillain.      After my accident in 2003 is when I basically decided to fully embrace my bearded supervillainy and I am to understand that this about when I grew to full inner/interstellar notoriety for my escapades. One day a couple of years in, I got a letter. “ Mr. Phillips, this contact is to offer our deepest appreciation for your contributions to the profession of being a supervillain.  We know the amount of stress and deep thought that goes into the making even the most mundane of plans, and as a token of our appreciation we would LOVE to have you at the Annual International Supervillain vs. Supervillain convention and competition.  We will send a courier with the official invite and registration form, containing all necessary cont