The musings of a madman...

     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

September 3, 1998… I was 19, it was a Monday.      I had to work that morning and needed to be there to open the store, so I was in the mall at 9:30am.  When one of my guys got in with me, I snuck away to whatever FYE was 20 years ago to make a quick video game purchase. If I had known that the game I was about to buy would change the direction of the next year(S) of my life, I would have--…  fuck that, I’d have bought THREE!      I worked 9:30-6 that day and IMMEDIATELY rushed home to my Playstation (the boring-looking-ass Playstation 1!), locked away in my bedroom and proceeded to not be heard from other than to work, eat, bathe or shit for weeks.  If at any point I can remember a favorite game becoming my favorite that quickly, this was the time. The story was fun going through.  It was engrossing to have a story with layers and twists and shit, mixed in with the “sneaking around and cutting dumbass guards’ throats” aspect of it.  The Easter eggs found in subsequent

     I could be making better use of my time and abilities here… In the months since I unsuccessfully robbed Santa Claus , I have exhibited the skills of a man who could sell commodities to market and internationally, courier goods across state lines, negotiate hostage situations and most importantly make a TON of fucking money. It’s August now.  I been at this for 8 months, one client paying enough for all year every three months and I will see them in a couple of weeks.  His buddy has ramped up his ticket sales to the point where he needs me every three as well instead of the original six.  Between those, I am clearing $575k every 12 weeks.  I am pulling another $25k every month.  Throw in the as-negotiated HUGE money deal I am taking from that little European country that I cannot name at this point and I am looking at about $5mil cash on hand, even after paying off my house and revolving credit. At this point, my lady still refuses to retire despite my attempts to get

     Maybe I am the fucking idiot here… Look, Santa was a degenerate dope dealer who deserved to get robbed.  I don’t understand how I am the one wearing this series of asswhoopings for having had the nuts to be the one to set him straight.  All I know is that I had turned his negative into a positive and set about the task of making sure my family was straight, better than I could have as an IT Specialist or whatever else I might have happened upon to do for a legit living otherwise.      But the only thing that travels faster than bad news is, apparently, chlamydia which I’m to understand is ALSO bad news in its own right and actually has not a fucking thing to do with this story. So here I am, these Europeans got me by the short & curlies, but they actually NEED me to get what they want as well.  I could say no and they can’t kill me if they intend to get ahead.  They could say no and walk away from it all, then head back to the drawing board and find another way.  F

(where did my little one-toothed baby go?)      I wasn’t ready…      I wasn’t given a choice… You arrived as a surprise to your mother and I and we had to hit the ground running.   Took to it pretty easily, you made the process pretty easy over all, and the rookie in me thanks you for that.      If I’m selfish, though, I wanted you to be little forever.   I might have only mildly minded the diaper changing thing, but the 6 - 11 months time was magical.   In my mind, you were a perfect chubby little ball of tiny human and I didn’t want anything about you to change.  The house was a giggle factory, everything we did was completely adorable and I wanted NOTHING about it to change. Even if I knew that was asking entirely too much of the world. Today – well technically tonight – you’re seven.   We’ve been through a ton and have yet a ton to go through and I am a million percent with you every step of the way. Happy birthday, Ava!   Daddy loves you.

     You know what, Phlip?  This is what the fuck you deserve.  You had three customers set to make you a million and a half dollars every six months, but you had to break all kinds of international laws and shit being greedy.      Oh wait!  I’m home, I’m safe and I have one month to figure out how to get my fucking bag back from those crazy-fuck European governmental gangster types.  I’m home, I am safe and I am sitting on enough cash on hand to not EVER have to work again in my life, considering that the only bills I have are “consumption” ones; utilities/food/etc…      But I am also fucking stupid… So here I am, in the FBI Field office trying to explain how I was robbed for a bag of coal by the government thugs of some small eastern European country that I could not name because I was not able to see out of the van I was riding in. Agent: “Okay, so help me understand the damages these people have done to you.  You say they took WHAT from you?” Me: “A bag of coal.

Y’all remember my monkey, Ian? [link] What about now?      Well anyway…  When we left you in the discussion of Ian, he was at once a purchase that seemed like a good idea in theory but wound up being GODawful in application and came dangerously close to ruining my life to boot. Unable to recoup any of what he cost me, I angrily left him in the pet shop I got him from so he could AT LEAST be rehomed or some shit. About 9 months after the fact, still randomly thinking back to and stewing on the moments I blew buying a fucking monkey as a pet and not a Cane Corso like I wanted, my phone rings… Me: “Hello?” Caller: “What up, though.” Me: “Marlon, you ain’t from Detroit.” Marlon: “How you know that?” Me: “Because I have met your country-ass mama.  Y’all from south Virginia.  What’s the deal.” Marlon: “Shit, chillin man.  What you got going on this weekend?” The sound in his background was familiar, but there is always some random shit happening in his house

     Angel on my left shoulder, telling me “Phlip, don’t get on that plane.”      Devil on my right shoulder, telling me “Phlip, get that money and get the fuck out.” Internal tug-of-war, provide for my family in a manner that I had to learn to contribute to as a child, in a manner that I might have never imagined so easily attainable or stay here in the United States and drive this bag around and watch these companies shovel out all of the magical coal they might so need.  Pick your poison, Phillip.  Slow burn and hard work or hit this international lick and be straight one at a time.      Why am I even second-guessing myself?  I KNEW I shouldn’t be on this fucking plane.  As opportunistic as I have been about trapping this cash over the past six months – I am at a million and a half now with my under-the-table museum contracts – I am still quite liberal as far as environmental issues go.  At least those in my own back yard, I feel something when I see my family and friend

     My city has a minor league baseball team… Wait, hold that whole thought. Y’all know I fucking hate baseball, right? Nevermind, I have spent enough time on my relationship with America’s former pastime.      Anyway, my city has a AA (or maybe AAA, IDK) baseball team.   As much as I dislike baseball as a sport – as in the television entertainment value is lacking HARD – my daughter enjoys going to the games, even though she needs me to explain the goings-on in the games.   She enjoys the atmosphere, the fact that there is a playground and that my employer comps me tickets to games and I invariably pick the Fireworks Fridays games.   Toss a couple of beers into the mix and I can make my way through nine innings.      One time last summer, though, this shit got SUPER lit. Another thing my city has a lot of is young “gang” members ( Phlip note : quotations for ridicule, not for emphasis) To be totally honest, even a tiny baseball park that doesn’t exactly se