The musings of a madman...

     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 me to go out and hang with my friends sometimes.  This neglects that a lot of my friends

“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 there will be an expensive lesson taught. The same can be said for topics that I am par

       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 back on that!      I had to put a plan in action and that plan clearly required some

       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 Fubu outfits while you’re over there. It’s 2022 for 2 more days

  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 researching how to reach The North Pole undetected and maybe – POSSIBLY – get a deeper peek into the fat man’s oper

       My laptop is next to my work-work computer for non-work “research” purposes and my desktop is out in my mancave next to the Playstation for music and fun purposes.   Both tend to have a tab open leading to my email inbox.      Like most of us, I tend to go weeks – MONTHS – at a time and rarely ever look at one folder in my email box.   Yes, that is the ever infamous spam folder. Of course, nothing of particular usefulness was there during the time of neglect.   Sure, a couple of messages that SHOULD have found one of my filtered inbox folders had eked to the junk mail folder, but the fact that I had not missed them basically served it that I could give a fuck less…      …   but I was bored. I clicked on a couple of emails and noticed that “Warren Edward Buffett” apparently uses a Gmail address that has nothing to do with his real name.   Not only that, he sends random people on the internet messages with opportunities to collect LIFE CHANGING amounts of money if only they

       Despicable Me debuted in 2010… As I was still yet 361 days from being a father at the time, it was a children’s movie that I was not interested in at the time.   The follow-ups arriving during the maelstrom of elements between 2011 and 2015 that will forever serve as my own supervillain origin story allowed me to manage to miss the whole of the series as it was coming along.   I mean, I knew it existed and was aware of the minions and their gibberish but I was busy having my life ruined.      As I exited the more depressive of my situations as a fully realized superfuckingvillain, I lacked time to go back and do the homework on that wrinkle of the subject.   I thought I had it down.      Thought… With some time on my hands since the Thanksgiving weekend, I made way to watch the Despicable Me series.   In it, I learned that the Minions have existed since the beginning of time and have historically hitched their wagon to the biggest supervillain of any given time. And here