The musings of a madman...

       I know I say this a lot here lately, but…   Humble brag: I am in what is among the best shape of my adult life.   This will matter to this story in just a moment.      As it got colder, I retreated my workouts into the garage on the cycle, then eventually to spreading it out over the course of the days, usually in 15-minute increments between tasks at work right here in the office.   Last week it was unseasonably warm, so I decided to gear up and hit the road a bit for my walk/run intervals as I did over the summer at 5:15 in the morning. Having lost over 60 pounds, I am still not a “small” person at 5’8” and a recently-more-muscled 210ish pounds these days, people tend to not bother me.   Perhaps it is the big headphones I wear while I am out, but people nod at me or throw a peace sign and keep moving. …   I’m rambling…      So it is last Tuesday…   I am out and on the road, two and a half miles in, elbows deep into the podcast I am listening to when a car – a van actual

  … and we’re back! if you weren’t here or don’t recall what transpired last week, please click here before continuing or this won’t end up making much sense to you.      So the doctor comes sprinting down the ward and into the room, breathlessly asking the nurse what was awry. Nurse: “The mescaline worked, but I don’t think it worked- worked" Doctor: “W-what do you mean?” Nurse: “Well…   As per norm, he was ‘up high’ for several hours and we expected that, and there were no traumas in his coming down.” Doctor: “Okay, so what’s the problem?” Me: “Y’all hursh!   I need to get some rest before my 12-hour shift on the factory floor tonight!” Nurse: “Well…   That.” Doctor: “What’s happening?” Nurse: “It seems he is of the opinion that he is--…” Me: “Sweetheart! S’cuse me, sweetheart!   Could you have that colored gal that was in here before bring me a whiskey and a cigarette?” Doctor: “Oh shit.” Me: “And when am I getting moved to the Whites hospital?” Nurs

       I have not changed the address on my license since 2008, when we moved down from the far end of the county back into the city.   I have thought about it, but the need for Real ID requires that I set foot inside the DMV to do it.   Furthermore, my (retired) mom still lives at the address that is on my license so the emergency situations that might arise from someone showing up to that address are not hindered by the fact that I have not lived there since July of 2009. Besides, I am there at least three days a week or so anyway in case any mail comes.      Recently, my simply not making the change worked to my advantage… As a few of you know, I am in what is among the best physical shape I have been in in my adult life.   Back before election time, I had taken up hitting open gym and playing basketball with some people young enough to be my kids.   Stylistic difference in how they play against how we grew up playing aside, everything went quite well and except for a cramp that

       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

       I’ll be honest, life has been difficult and assuredly less fun since having to abandon the Moe Phillips name… Imagine YEARS of using a contrived identity with which to complete the tasks of various entertaining endeavors, legality bedamned, and just having to throw them all out the window because of a detective with a funny name .      As we recall, I previously had set about the task of rehabilitating the Moe Phillips name by using him as a vigilante to exact justice for those who could not extract it in legal manners.   The issue, apparently, is that vigilante justice is still a crime in itself. [ Phlip note : then how the fuck is Batman not arrested?   I THOUGHT THIS WAS AMERICA, PEOPLE!!! ]      Short on options to allow me to continue to use the Moe Phillips name and all the street cred I have earned it through the last few years without Detective Woodpenis up my ass – no pun intended – I’mma have to smarten up for a while. Planning for long vacation and needing t