The musings of a madman...

       I have recently wasted some valuable time away from work in pursuit of creating a better way. Did y’all miss me?  Did anyone even notice I was gone?      Of late, and as some of you have read, I am having to maintain a promise to dial back the supervillainy a bit.   I can still do my get money shit, I just have to do so in a manner that does not inflict suffering upon people. I will miss the Cicadas thing. So what is the play now? Thanks for asking!      One show I know you have heard of involves a WW2 nurse traveling back in time and falling in love with an 18th-century Jacobite warrior.  I got WAY more into this show than I expected to when my wife sat me down and held my eyes open to make me watch. (live footage) The whole time,  though, I thought to myself “why is this bitch going back to the 1700s from the 1960s with the knowledge of most modern conveniences and ain’t inventing ALL...

     It should come as no surprise to anyone that I truly detest rom-coms…      Perhaps it is irrational of me, and the fact that they keep making them suggests that SOMEONE is enjoying this shit so I am powerless to stop them.  A companion issue is my own behavior when I am (even recognizably) irrationally against something. Not to let you in on anything more than you need to know about me – even if you have been reading these stories for the past several years – but I am a pretty funny dude sometimes.  I mean, I joke about things in poor taste that likely should not be joked about, but I understand the greater objective idea of what is humorous. Never mind that though.      As I get older, I become more of a homebody.  Hell, all my cool stuff is here!  All my toys and electronics, books and a firepit…  And we got doggies!  Who needs to go outside? Despite this, sometimes my wife leans on...

“Just talk it out…”      That seems like a simple enough instruction to follow, right? Well let me explain something.   I am a middle child by birth order, a creative weirdo by nature and a bit of a misunderstood outcast due to both of the above. …   I also talk about writing like underground rappers talk about rapping.   It is something I enjoy and I am good at.      You know what I DON’T do a lot and never became particularly good at?   Talking! This isn’t to say I am inarticulate or lack vocabulary, I am just used to “sit down and shut up” as a parenting technique that I tend to silently watch a room until I need to talk.      Unless I am excited. When I am excited, unless the audience is similarly interested in what I am yammering on about then I fully expect to feel the “sit down and shut up” vibe I was raised on.   The only difference is nobody better put their hands on me, lest ther...

       I once said “I’on know who’s big mama need to hear this, but Ginger Ale is just soda.” I was immediately jumped by six nonagenarian grandmothers with canes.   I legit did not learn my lesson about THINKING such things, only about saying them aloud.      So I got to thinking…   How many more of those “remedies” they gave us in the 80s that didn’t actually cure shit, so much as made us just a little bit more comfortable until our honestly-pretty-damned-effective immune systems circled up the wagons and handled business as designed?   The Google search sent me down an internet rabbit hole which I found both intriguing and re-traumtizing, I will talk to my therapist about that part next week…      It also gave me an idea… Remember, back in Soft Eyes , when I explained just how much you could get away with just on the strength of the fact that people don’t pay attention to shit?   Well we’re ba...

       I don’t know how good y’all are with math but after splitting with my ex-wife someone I had a wedding with once, I became a single man.   Years removed from the old dating game (no pun intended) , I was not prepared for a world wherein “dating apps” were a thing.   I mean, sure I had heard of them in the time I was off the market but the concept of being on one was foreign to me. Foreign or no, they were a new reality that I had to learn to navigate and I gave it a go… … and struck out…      No need to dig into the gory details of things, just know that re-entering that world from where I had been was like someone returning from a prison bid (pun intended) .   You ever seen a dude come home from a few years in prison and not have a fucking clue on what the world had become while he was locked away?   He wants you to run him over to the Cingular store in the mall to get his Palm Treo reactivated and score a few ...

  I don’t know if y’all know this but for about five years, me and Santa have had what the homies in Houston might call “plex.” If you need to be brought up to speed, please pack a lunch and start  here  and spend a while.   Welcome back.   So yeah…  I figured that Rudolph being down bad was a result of Santa’s abject shittiness and I wound up paying the price for shenanigously attempting to set things right on my own terms.  It has been four years since I learned a lesson so embarrassing that I sometimes still cry myself to sleep just thinking about it.  Part of me, though, wonders how I could have built a clandestine career as Supervillain Internacionale and still let a 1751 year-old fat man get the drop on me like that. I had to get to the bottom of this. [ Phlip note :  oh, y’all thought I was just gon’ let him punk me? ]               I spent major time studying and resear...