I'm going to blow out....

Happy Friday everybody!  I'm not happy, and that is why I am about to blow out, here and now.  Lots of things have my knickers in a knot.

First off, the news.  I quit reading the news some time back.  It was so rewarding to not have to have this silly shit swirling around in my big ass head.  And now for some dumb reason, I have begun reading the news again.  None of it is good.  I can't tell what is accurate but I still know a line of bullshit when you try to feed it to me.

Online I have been harping about the republicans.  A friend asked me why and I will address this here.  The why is easy.  I bought into the republican party before I was 18.  The whole idea of being fiscally responsible, being for freedom, being a 2nd Amendment supporter... this was the only real choice for me.

For years I stood by and voted the party line (Which is exactly what they want).  (Both parties, by the way.)  I was told that the republican party was all of the aforementioned and then some.  I bought it.  I was told that the democrats were coming after my freedom (which is still what they say today).  They were coming after my guns.  They were trampling my rights.  "Free speech!  They are coming after free speech!"

They ain't coming after free speech.  What you have to understand about free speech is, you can say pretty much whatever you want to say, but there are going to be consequences.  You are likely to get a few people pissed off with your free speech.  I've done it and probably will again with this rant! You might get your ass whipped.  Nothing I am saying here is "illegal".  I won't go to jail for any of this, but there may very well be consequences.  Anyone has the right to be offended by what I say.  But then what?  You're offended... so we aren't friends anymore?  We can't have a conversation anymore?  We can't agree to disagree?  

I have a friend at work.  He is way more progressive than I am.  Years ago, he told me that I was wrong for not voting.  He said, "You still have to vote."  I pointed out to him how often either side looks you square in the eye, feeds you a line of bullshit and you either bite or don't bite.  I said, "You are choosing between liars.  You are choosing which cancer you want to kill you.  I don't want cancer and I won't vote for a liar.  Any liar.  Lying is not okay, ever."

As our discussion developed, I made a few more points that he acknowledged, perhaps half heartedly.  Just the other day, this man told me, "You were right."  The very next thing he said was, "Its both sides.  They can't help but lie.  They are pandering for votes.  Most of the shit they espouse is shit they could never get pushed through, and they are cunning enough to know that!"

I congratulated the man.  He said, "Biden and his $15 dollar minimum wage... what a crock of shit that was.  He said that on his first day in office, this was going to be the norm.  On his first day, he walked away from that statement.  Completely blew that shit off."  And, he's right.  

That was only one point we discussed, but the problem is far deeper.  Whether you are a R or a D, you are being lied to on a regular basis.  You accept or don't mention the bullshit on your side and immediately deflect to the other side.  The problem with this is the level of disfunction has just grown.  These jack wagons know they have you right where they want you.  They have respective captive audiences, they know what you want to hear and as long as there are consumers that will lap this shit up, it will continue.  Completely unaccounted for, by the way.  None of this shit is good.

I remember a day when a lie was an immediate disqualifier.  No matter the lie, you were going to be held accountable.  And then somewhere along the lines, we idolized these dickheads in politics and quit holding them unchecked.  it's actually worse.  If they lie and they are on "your side" we now protect these fucking people!  Why?  How?

I remember when janky shit was noted as janky shit.  Most everyone wanted no part in it, but it now appears if people have an investment in this.  If it's "your guy", it's tolerable?  I think you ought to hold "your side" more accountable.  That's how I was brought up.  Most of us were brought up that way.  That is gone now.  It just doesn't exist.  I don't understand it.

I have had people tell me (like its a bad thing) "You are way more liberal than you used to be."  Yeah, no shit.  I've learned a lot of things in the last 56.85 years.  I tried to quit being ignorant.  I've read and listened to many other peoples side of the story.  I've learned that so much of what we learned in school was only part of the story, minus what "they" don't want you to know.  

I have a lot of people to whom I am thankful for being patient and then pointing out the obvious to me, but I won't name them here.  They might not approve of my post.

I learned to be more considerate of other people's needs.  I've learned that we are here, pretty much with the same needs and wants all the while elected officials just dangle that shit out in front of you to pander for their votes.  If elected, they get paid... by us.  They tell us when they get a raise.  Martha Stewarts ass went to prison over "insider trading" and numerous politicians have been guilty of the same fucking thing and NOTHING HAPPENED!  There is no accountability.  These fucking people do what they want and convince their supporters that THEY are the only person who can do the job.  And, we are fucking simple enough to go right along with it if at least most of the shit they say and do goes along with OUR way of thinking.  

This whole fucking thing has gotten so far out of hand that entertainers, people who take money and do their dog and pony show for us have been given the space within corporate media time slots to voice their opinions.  Some of these very same entertainers where once chastised for being 'draft dodgers" by people who now support them?  If being a draft dodger was once that important to you, how do you give them a pass now? How did you once despise someone and now believe everything they say and do?  People have given passes to too many people that have a little notoriety, just because they are famous.  

I don't get it.  How can this shit be real?  What in the fuck happened?  Can anybody help me with this?  Have I lost my fucking mind?  Is this shit not happening?  

"If you don't vote, you can't complain."  Horse shit.  I've held people accountable for the things they say and do all of my life with voting set aside from that.  I'm always going to do that.  I was brought up believing a man's/woman's word was everything.  You respect until you have reason to not respect and lying was a disqualifier.  Not anymore.  If it's a "good" lie, if it sounds almost believable, it's now an alternative fact.  Where in the fuck did that come from?  How is that even a thing?

It's still both sides and I am harping on the republicans because I used to believe in them.  I bought their shit hook, line and sinker.  Now, I am mad.  I'm mad because I was that gullible.  I thought, I was actually told that these people cared about me.  They don't give a fuck.  Actually, that's not true.  They give a fuck until they have your vote, then they quit giving a fuck.

Do you think for one god damned second that any of these parasites know what it's like to live in your shoes?  Do you think they understand your troubles?  All they know is this.  They know what riles you up and by being "riled" up, you feel apart of this thing.  You feel invested and when your guy loses, it hurts and this produces more vitriol, more hatred and misguided anger towards US, THE PEOPLE.

I'm fucking sick with this.  

Now, the media.  How did this get so far out of whack?  (Big money donations has a lot to do with it.)  I believed the news back in the day.  Now I see how much revenue the news generates.  I see where that money comes from.  The news is loyal to whomever is paying them the most.  

I used to think we could do better or be better.  I still do to some extent, but I think that comes down to the individuals.  I think it comes down to US doing better.  I think it comes down to US holding responsible parties feet to the fire and once they lie, we cut them off.  It won't happen though.  I think were too far gone.  I think too many Americans love the likes of Hannity or whats her nuts on MSNBC.  Factual information aside.  I think Americans think they identify with us and we them.  All of this shit is propaganda.  You buy it or you don't.  I fucking don't.  And please, do NOT say anything around me that you don't want to later be held accountable for.  

Cancel culture.  Another crock of shit bestowed upon us by the sources.  People seem to like cancel culture until it happens to "their guy".  If its good for the goose, it's good for the gander.  If you are going to feed giant ass lies of bullshit to the public, you should be canceled.  If you have a certain level of celebrity and use your influence to cancel shit, you yourself should be prepared for the consequences.  If in return your ass gets cancelled, you bought in to it and this is the public taking the trash out.

Fucking people are mad at beer, books, amusement parks, espouse freedom but want to fuck you right out of your rights?  Kid Rock... this guy blows up beer, gets a platform to express his opinion on a biased "news" source and calls for cancellation.  Then the dumb fuck comes out and says, "I didn't think this was going to affect the people that worked there?"  Could you be any more fucking stupid?  Fact of the matter is, dumb ass likes a cold Bud Light.  

Then you have jerk off politician that hops on that band wagon.  "I'll never have or serve that shit at my house'.  Then he shows his poolside beer fridge stocked with products made by the same producer?  You're still supporting the brand, dick head.  Are you that dumb?  (Better go vote for his lying ass!)

I am sad to say that I have lost friends over this.  I'll probably lose more, and if these folks can't be genuine, have a good hard look at themselves and take a personal inventory, I am okay with "losing them". 

My intent with this rant was to open some eyes.  I know some smart people caught up in this bullshit, and if they can't fess up and eat a little crow, it was nice knowing you.  I'm getting too old for this shit.  I don't have time for people who say they are for honesty and integrity and then discount both when it comes to voting.  

And as a disclosure, I will ad this.  I've been told that I am too hard on people.  If we've ever been close, you're fucking right I've been hard on you.  You were trusted in my circle.  I expected more from you.  If you can't be honest, if you can't be kind, if you can't be humble, what are we even doing?

Pending surgery:

 

Happy Monday!  I hope everyone is having a peach of a day.  Sure is pretty enough around here to be having a good day.  Not sure why I got a hitch in my giddy-up, but damned if I don't.

I've been talking about my upcoming shoulder surgery a bit lately.  I'm not scared about it.  I just want it done and I want to get through that first week of bullshit, then I will be able to handle everything else.

Surgeries, it seems, are a bit different than the last one I had.  I had an umbilical hernia repaired 25-27 years ago.  Everything that needed to be done was done in the office pre-op.  Nowadays, you get to do a lot of this stuff online.  I'm sure some of you are saying, "Oh yeah, so much more convenient."  Well, your buddy can't figure this shit out.

I had to fill out this thing called a patient portal.  This little gem of an idea is supposed to make corresponding with the surgical center and everyone else involved so much easier.  One of the things it asks you to do is 'produce a strong password'.  

I worked on this bullshit for 45 minutes.  buddhalikesmuffins was not strong enough.  ddbdrdwd1967 wasn't strong enough.  maryhadalittlebuzzard wasn't strong enough.  kickthecat883 wasn't strong enough and it was about at this point that I started losing my shit.

I spelled my childhood address backwards and that wasn't strong enough.  I spelled zyzzyzyermocalif1987 and that wasn't strong enough.  I used copenhagen101.5, KOMProckslasvegas, pocketpuppy, loverlipz, lmaoIamgoingtoshit... none good enough.

I scrolled to the top of the page.  I re-read all of the instructions.  I went back to where I am supposed to type this "strong password".  I typed in brushyeyebrows and noticed a little eyeball icon to the right of it. I clicked on it and it said, burshyeyebrows is taken but brushyeyebrows097 is not.  I type in burshyeyebrows097 and hit enter..... not strong enough.

All of the bullshit I could come up with is not strong enough.  The god damned suggestion that THEY MADE was not strong enough!!!!

Well, I threw my phone in the recycle basket and walked away.  I took a 5 minute walk and came back.  At the bottom of the page I found this nice little "help' button.  I clicked on it and it allowed me to type a message to the "specialist".

I wrote exactly this:  I've been messing with registering for 45 minutes and for one reason or another, I cannot come up with a password that is strong enough.  The little green light says it is STRONG ENOUGH, but as soon as I hit send, I get another FUCKING message that says my password is not strong enough.  Now what?

Cicely, who seems to be a very kind person wrote back.  Her advice was to type a password and if it isn't strong enough, the little eye icon would suggest one that is strong enough.

I replied:  Cicely, no dice.  I typed exactly what they told me was strong enough and it didn't work.  At this point, I'd rather try my hand at stuffing cooked spaghetti noodles up a rabid bobcats ass than play little typewriter games.  I am having a shoulder surgery.  I don't give 2 half shits about anyone knowing my business and I am not in the mood for coming up with an unbreakable code for a fucking password that I'll never, ever remember.

Cicely hasn't responded.  If I were her, I'd be laughing right now.  I don't know what in the world that I am doing wrong but I cannot mess with that shit any more today....  I just can't.  I bet I can't do it tomorrow.  I mean, I have created passwords 100 times at least-no issue!  Why NOW!

By the way, dirtysanchez, dirtyjuanita, dirtypirate, baltimorebrownie, puffypoundcake, fecalfelon, knobgobbler2000, gofuckyourself, gofuckmyself, gofucktheneighbor, Ilovepoliticians, chickenchoker, chokedchicken, wonderbra, elvisshitthebed, hunchbackedmidgethooker and ifmyhearthadanass, i'dkick it.. None of them worked... at one point it told me that I can't use punctuation.

Well, fucked again.  I'll get home and let the wife have a crack at it.  If she gets it....  I don't know what I'll do.  Probably cuss a lot more.  Go throw a hammer or light my cellphone on fire.  I'm done...

Crunchy... they call him Crunchy.

 

Happy Friday and all of that happy horse shit!  I hope everyone is having a great day and is on top of their game.  Me, I'm okay even when I am not so okay.  I always figure it out and I hope that for all of you.

So, the story I am about to tell you goes back some 33-34 years ago.  Its a story of "young love" and all of that mushy, gushy shit that comes around with a brand new relationship.  And, this story has been time tested.  Every time it gets brought up, I get a good laugh out of it and I hope you do too.

Like I said, let us go back some 33-34 years.  DeeDee and I had just moved in together.  We felt comfortable enough doing that, but our relationship was really brand new.  We were young, in love and trying to figure each other out yet.  Each of us has destroyed a home cooked meal, trying to be fancy for the other, so we were in just about that deep.

We knew we loved each other, but we (or should I say I/me) was trying to figure out what I could and couldn't get away with in this relationship.  

We had a tiny little apartment but it was one of the best rent deals going in Teton County.  We had a pretty good neighbor that lived next door.  I met the guy shortly after I moved in and he told me, "Good, glad DeeDee is going to have a man around the house."  He added, "My place is a safe place.  If you ever need anything, let me know."  I shook the man's hand, thanked him and we were off to a good start.

As the days went by, I noticed our neighbor was either home or gone.  You could go weeks without seeing the guy and there was never any foot traffic near his place when he was gone.  When he was there, he always had something going on.  

I don't know what the guy did for a living.  I didn't care.  As long as he was good, I was going to be good too and it all worked out just fine.  

Anyhow, the neighbor had been gone for a while.  When I came home from work one night, I noticed there was a bit of a party going on.  I was invited in but passed on the offer.  I was tired.  We'd had a couple fights in the bar that night and I needed to doctor up some bumps and bruises.

When I walked into the bedroom, I told DeeDee that our neighbor invited me over to party and that I declined the offer.  She had known the man for some time longer than I did.  She reinforced the conclusion I had already come too.  Dude was a nice guy but she understood where I was coming from.  Besides that, we had a bit of a day planned the following morning.

The next morning, DeeDee was going to head to the grocery store.  It was a beautiful morning.  We had some music going and had the front door open.  The neighbor was in and out doing things and had a friend who was going to stick around for a few days.  He introduced us, and.... well, I forgot his name.

DeeDee was getting ready to walk out the door and noticed the neighbors guest.  She asked, "Who is that?"  I told her that it was the neighbors guest, that he was going to be staying around for a few days and that the neighbor had introduced us.

So, this guy-neighbors guest was standing on the bridge.  DeeDee was going to have to walk right by the guy.  She said, "You didn't happen to catch this guys name, did you?"  I said, "Oh yeah, they call him Crunchy."  She didn't doubt me for a second.  I was sitting on the couch as she hit the door and I hear her say, "Good morning, Crunchy!"

I fell off the couch laughing.  The look on the guys face when she called him Crunchy was fucking hilarious, or at least I thought.  It was the look you'd have if someone you didn't know walked up and called you Crunchy.  And in her head, she picked up the look too but thought "Oh, he's amazed that I know his name."

I'm laughing so hard at this point that I have to go shut the door.  I was making a fool out of myself.  I watched old Crunchy contemplate this most recent event with a woman he'd never met.  His face was still kind of screwed up and he kept silently mouthing the word "Crunchy".

It was just too much for me to take.  When DeeDee came home, she asked for help with the groceries.  I was still laughing.  She said, "What's so funny?"  I said, "Did you meet the neighbors guest?"  She said, "Yeah, I walked by, smiled and said "Good Morning, Crunchy".  I started busting up again.  She said, "He was kind of surprised that I knew his name."

Now I am on the floor laughing.  I can't breathe.  I was doing that laugh that looks kind of violent, but you aren't making noise...  She said, "Oh my God!  Are you okay?'' 

I didn't think I was going to be.  Besides not being able to breathe, I figured I was about 5 minutes away from losing my new girlfriend and my new apartment at the same time, and still I could not contain my laughter.  

Finally she said, "What is going on?  What is so funny?"  I said, "Honey, that man's name is not Crunchy.  Nobody's name is Crunchy'' the laughter started again, at least on my end.  She said, "Yeah it is and he was surprised that I knew his name."  

Now I am totally out of control laughing.  She wasn't.  She was still trying to figure out what happened.

She said, "No, he was amazed that I knew his name..." convinced that the fucking guys name was indeed Crunchy.  "He was surprised!"  I finally reeled it in.  I said, "Sweetheart, I don't know that man.  Never met him until about 20 minutes ago, and I forgot his name.  I just kind of thought that his nickname could be Crunchy, so I told you that was his name.  I never in a million years thought you'd walk up to the guy and say "Good Morning Crunchy"

Now she is laughing.  More than I thought she would.  This was good news because I am full of shit like this and if she couldn't take it, the relationship wouldn't make it.

Well, here we are 33-34 years later.  Old Crunchy comes up from time to time.  I later found out what the guys real name was.  I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't buy it.  She bought Crunchy, but she wouldn't buy the guys real name.... and as usual, I started laughing again.

The One Time My Doormen Abandoned Me:

 

Good grief, it's September already! So, I was chatting with an old friend that was in the bar business with me.  She asked, "Do you remember the cookie cutter incident?".  I did.  It was one of the weirdest, funniest things that ever happened to me, and she thought that I should share.  So with that said, here we go.

Bars are kind of funny places.  The bar itself and the employees are there to provide a safe environment to listen to some live entertainment and have a few libations.  The staff is trained to look out for anyone who might be getting too intoxicated or anyone who might be infringing upon someone else's good time.  In the event of something like this happening, we (the door staff) would run a bit of an intervention.

In my little world of bar management, there were 2 types of interventions.  One is the preferred method. This is what I refer to as a "pep talk".  The bartender, waitress, doorman or manager acts like a little league coach.  He/she goes and has a little chat with the person regarding the issue at hand.  We kindly explain the rules and what we would expect to happen, and 9 times out of 10, it all works out and everyone continues to have a good time.

The other is what I like to refer to as a "Come to Jesus meeting".  A good "come to Jesus meeting" starts off a little bit like this.  By this point, we've had a pep talk with the offender already and for some reason, the bad behavior continues.  So, we walk up with 2 of us and play another fun bar game called "good cop/bad cop".  You've seen this a million times in cop movies.  Good cop starts off talking to the bad guy.  When this attempt breaks down, bad cop shows up and lays down the law.  Often times, the bad guy decides that he doesn't want to agree and would rather throw a tantrum of some sorts and then be removed from the bar.

This is exactly the case in this particular circumstance.

It was early in the evening but we had a pretty full staff.  I noticed a guy walking around.  He seemed a little off, but hell.... this is a bar.  Most of us are off but we try not to stick out.  this guy stuck out.  I walked around and made the door staff aware of the guy and told them to keep an eye on him.  I pointed the guy out to the waitstaff and bartenders as well.  

A bit of time rolls by and it is decided that the gentleman needs a pep talk.  He was shooting pool on a couple of tables and was holding up the fun, so I stepped up to have a chat.  I explained that it is too hard for some people to be shooting pool on two tables at once.  I also explained that both of his pool adversaries were a bit angry that this whole thing was taking too long.  I suggested that he shoot pool on one table and one table only.

Oddly, he agreed.  He decided that it was best to just concentrate on one game and one table.  At this point, all is well with the world.  A few minutes goes by and my new friend is talking to himself, pacing and acting just a little more odd.  He loses a game of pool and threw his stick on the table.  One of the doormen tells him that he can't do that.  If he did it again, he would have to go.

I am made aware of this and begin to keep a closer eye on my friend.  Now things escalate pretty quickly.  This guy starts running his mouth to everyone close to him.  It became abundantly clear to me that it was a "Come to Jesus Meeting" time.

I made eye contact with the doormen at the front door as I approached.  They knew where I was going.  One guy got closer so we could do the good cop/bad cop thing.  I explained that I felt he had enough fun in our establishment for the evening and that it would be best for him to travel on and see the sights.

He thought it was best to tell me to go fuck myself, as often happens in situations like this.  So I suggested to him in only a voice he could hear that he "grab his shit and start walking towards the front door".  He begins to gather his stuff all the while telling me that he is going to kick my ass.

By this time in my career, I have indeed had my ass kicked a few times but was sure that this fellow was incapable.  Not that I am or was fighter of the year or anything.  I had myself and 3 doormen watching this asshole.  No way he gets all 4 of us.

When something like this happens in a bar, there is a lot of unsaid communication going on.  Hand gestures, facial or eye gestures and I was doing all of this to clear the way and make sure that we were all on the same page.

Now, as we were walking towards the door, this guy decided that kicking my ass was only his option A.  Option B was going to be more graphic, more intense.  The guy said, "I am going to get outside and I am going to cut you up."

2 doormen get outside first and post up.  I continue outside with the guy and urge him to just move along.  Instead, he drops his shit and reaches for his back right pocket.  I thought to myself, "Son of a bitch!  This idiot is going to try to cut me."  Just as I was about to ask my doormen what he was reaching for, and one guy said "He's got something in his hand."  

Now, we've upped the ante.  This guy is posturing like he is a knife fighter and I am standing in front of him.  The thought of getting stabbed didn't seem like a great thing to me, so I told the doorman, "If he pulls this thing, were going to jump on him."

I tell the guy, "Do yourself a favor and just go.  You might stab one of us, but you'll never get us all.  Then you'll get your ass whipped real good and get to go to jail.  I'm doing you a favor.  Go away."

You could really feel the tension!  This guy was looking pretty serious and anxious at the same time.  I was waiting for him to make a move and I was going to let him have it.  All of a sudden my doorman laughs and says, "You're okay boss.  No way you can get hurt'' and he starts to walk away.  I said, "Hey, get over there.  Don't leave me hanging."  He said, "Nope, you're good.  No way you can get hurt."  The other doorman says, "You're shitting me."  He starts to laugh and all the while my little friend is getting more and more agitated.  

The second doorman says, "You've got this guy, boss.  I'm going in."  Both doormen are laughing, now.  I said, "What's he got?"  As soon as I said that, the guy pulls his weapon and both doormen say at the same time, "It's a pizza cutter...."  

Sure as shit, it was a pizza cutter.  I grabbed the pizza cutter out of the guys hand and threw it in the street.  I grabbed his bag and threw it in the street too.  I told the guy, "Are you out of your mind, pulling a pizza cutter?  You could have gotten yourself killed.  Get your ass out of here and take that shitty pizza cutter with you."

I walked back in the bar and the whole staff was laughing.  A pizza cutter.... that was a first.  We joked about it forever.  I had forgotten about it until the other day.  

Oh well, we all went on to live happy lives without getting shredded by the pizza cutter guy.  Not sure what happened to him though.  He probably drowned on his own spit.

Getting Older

 

Good Morning and Happy whatever day it is... Monday, I reckon.  I hope everyone had a great weekend and is ready to tackle this work week.  I am about half prepared for it.  This particular morning was kind of busy for me and that is a good thing.  I like coming to work and having a list of things to do and get them knocked out handily.

Anyhow, I had a bit of alone time this weekend.  When I get that, I get the opportunity to think about a lot of things.  This weekend, it was about getting older.  There are signs now that weren't there in my 30's and most of my 40's.  Most are little things, but that doesn't mean they aren't important.

I used to have a memory.  I could remember everything.  This isn't the case any longer.  For instance, I was hanging some cabinets in the garage this weekend and I lost my tape measure.  (For the record, I think I have 5, but I found one and chose to use that one.)  So yeah, I just lost that bastard and spent the better part of an hour looking for it.  I never left the garage, so I knew it was in there.  At about the end of an hour looking for it, I sat down to retrace my steps.  I felt something in my hip pocket....  You guessed it.  Tape measure.

I can walk into a room and forget why I walked in there.  I can go to the store for one item and then come home with 4 items not including the item I went to the store for.  This can potentially be a game of Russian Roulette if it was the wife that sent me to the store for  laundry detergent and I come home with a new pair of pliers, beer, The National Enquirer and butter.  

These aren't even the things that are starting to worry me.  Pain, just random pain.  In my 20's, nothing hurt, ever.  Rub some dirt on it and walk it off.  In my 30's, my ego was still just large enough that I wouldn't let any pain get me down.  In my early 40's, I started to have a couple "What in the hell is that and why does it hurt" minutes, but they too were fleeting.

Now I am in my mid 50's.  I can (and have) blown my back out sneezing.  I held a cough in and passed out, hitting my head on the toilet (and breaking it) and got a grade 3 concussion... from holding a cough in?  Yeah, that shit is a thing now!  My hands... bastards hurt every day.  They don't look like they hurt.  In fact, if it weren't for the age spots, they look like they are my 30 year old hands.

I'm not as strong as I used to be.  I am far less tolerant of bullshit.  I am way more cynical than I thought I'd be.  I guess paying attention did that.  I can still pay attention, I think.  I'm not as "peopley" as I used to be.  The bar business cured me of that.  Being in a crowd is no longer something I am fond of.  Hate it in fact.  

(Side story)  Back when I was in the bar business, I had one of my doormen walk up to me and say, "Hey boss man, a couple of dudes followed an old guy down stairs and I think there is going to be a problem."  I asked, "How old is the old dude?"  Doorman said, "Like 35 or some shit."  I looked at him and said, "Jack ass!  How old do you think I am?"  He said, "Uhm, I don't know."  I replied, "36 years old and lets go get these guys."  

To his credit, there was a problem.  Turned out that the old guy kicked the shit out of the 2 other guys and we just had to get the ass whooping stopped.  We did.  And for the rest of this door mans employment, I kept reminding him about how old and fragile I was...  JM, if you're reading this, perhaps you can tell the story differently.

Back to what bothers me.  My health is okay but there have been some changes.  Like I mentioned, the memory stuff.  That's actually a blessing in some regards.  Some shit happens that I wish I could forget and sometimes I do.  That is helpful.  

Do you know what is not helpful?  I can sit on my balls now.  Oh yeah, and without warning.  Just plop down and the package is out of whack and I get to sit on one of both of my balls.  Seriously, I thought that was about the end of the line.  Now I have to be mindful as I sit????  Yes, yes I do.

Speaking of balls, why are they so long now?  They used to be in a useful pouch, hanging out where they should, never in the way.  When a 56 year old man goes to sit upon the throne, he has to evaluate the lack of elasticity and the length of the package.  Sometimes, they are going to get wet and the feeling of that is alarming!  Toilet water should never touch them.  Never, but it happens now.  Not on the regular, mind you.  Just enough to keep you guessing and wanting to learn some sailors knots to tie em up and keep em out of the water.

The strength of my gut is the biggest issue.  It used to be, if I had to eat the ass out of a dead skunk, I could do it.  Cast iron stomach.  Nothing affected it except too my whiskey, and you always bounced back after a good puke.  No, this is quite a bit different.

I've always had excellent control of my guts.  I used to think, "Well, I'd better go poop in an hour or so."  Yeah, I could hold a poop for a more reasonable amount of time.  You know, Like on a road trip and you see the "Next Services/Rest Area 30 miles".  Never, ever was an issue.  I could hold it until it was time to release the beast, drop the kids off at the pool or whatever you call it.

Now I have to be cautions about a fart.  Farts used to be funny and now all of a sudden they are serious business!  You totally can fart and shit your pants.  I didn't know that.  I heard stories, but I thought that was people just trying to be funny.  No sir, its a thing.  Sooner or later, you are going to muscle down and try to fart and you are going to royally shit your pants.  Trust me.  It'll happen.

I had a shart experience not too long ago.  Embarrassed?  Hell yeah I was embarrassed and there was nobody around!  Nobody, and you wouldn't even know about it if I hadn't brought it up!  I'm only doing this as a public service announcement.  Your day is coming...  You be sitting there and feel the urge to "blow off a little steam".  It will then hit you that this could be the funniest fart of your life, so you bear down, knuckle up and let her rip!  BLAM!!!!  Shit your pants!!!!  Just like that.  A flash back to your diaper days and you weren't even trying to shit your pants.  It just happened.  Never used to, but now its possible.

I shit my pants so hard that I almost had to enter the Shitness Protection Program.  I mean, I looked into it and had there been a witness or two, the Shitness Protection Program would have been my only hope.

I don't know.  I'm glad that I am getting older.  I made it through my teens when a stiff breeze made me get a boner.  I'll probably get through this too.  And for the record, the phone number to the Shitness Protection Program is 1-800- I SHIT EM.  

You're going to want to keep that number handy.  Put it on your phone, write it on the back of your hand or remember it.

Please take care of yourselves and never trust a fart.  Never.

Fart Juice: Yeah, I have a story about that.

 

I don't know if I am going to do this story justice.  I am going to offer you this before we get too far down the line.  This happened.  I'm not real proud of it, but its one of those things that if you could have been present, you would have laughed your ass off!  Is it childish?  Yeah it is.  I was probably 11 years old and my sister was about 9.

We used to spend a lot of time out at dad's house in the summer.  Sometimes our step sisters would be there.  That was agony for me.  3 girls against me...  There was nothing I could do that was going to be cool with all 3 girls.  I learned that shit early on.  Me being me and having 3 girls as a captive audience, I was one or two words away from pissing off the whole group!  And, I knew better than to do that.  So what I found in this circumstance was, I had only my little sister present.

If something awful happened, it was a guessing game on who would come out on top by the time the parental units came home.  It was normally her and she had a valuable trick up her sleeve.  On a different occasion, she called dad at work to tell him I was being a shit. We were told not to call dad at work unless one of us died or the house blew up.  Being "daddy's little girl" she knew she could probably get away with it.

So anyways, as the day progressed, we ran out of things to do.  We did have some chores to take care of and they were done.  It was about 115 outside.  We didn't have a pool.  There wasn't even a tree big enough to cast a shadow at the time so were were either outside or inside.  The problem was, if we were together, there was probably going to be an issue.

As I remember it, my sister managed to get control of the TV remote.  It was one of those "first come-first serve" policies that most families children had to negotiate.  So now, she is the TV boss and I felt she was doing a poor job.  I can't remember what she was watching, but no way were a 9 year old girl and an 11 year old boy going to agree on what we should or should not be viewing.

She was kind of proud of herself.  I'll go as far as to say "gloating''... she was gloating at the fact that she was in charge of the T V.  More importantly, she was very proud of herself because she knew how bad this pissed me off!  She picked some bullshit show.  I don't even think she liked it, but I had no choice.

So there we were, watching some bullshit show.  At about the time I figured out what was happening on the show, she changed the channel to something worse.  She looked at me and grinned.  I told her to change it back.  She said no, and picked up the phone.  "Leave me alone or I'll call dad."  That's it.  I'd been called out.  I was had and there wasn't a thing I could do about it and she knew it.  

Again, as soon as it almost got interesting, change the channel.  Click, click, click and every time she changed the channel, she would smirk at me.  She totally knew she was driving me up the wall and I had little to no recourse.  If I objected a little to harshly, she'd be on the phone.

So there I sat.  The longer I sat and the longer this went on, I knew I was going to have to do something.  I didn't know what that something was, but I knew I couldn't beat her up, could not steal the remote or about 30 other things that would have resulted in dad coming home early.

I was trying to come up with something.  My train of thought was, "Do something that she can't prove.  Do something that isn't going to leave a mark or something that is going to make her cry."  That didn't open a whole lot of doors for me.  In the mean time, she'd look at me and smirk.  It was killing me.

The only thing I could think of doing was farting near her.  This was a kid who would gag at herself when she tried to go poop, so when anyone else farted, she'd nearly die.  I kind of crept up next to her and crop dusted her with a "silent but deadly".  No reaction... I was crushed.  I was positive that this would make her run for the hills and relinquish control over the remote, but no dice.

I somehow knew I was on the right track though.  I made her cry before with a fart.  I knew my dad farted.  No way dad was going to murder me over a fart.  No way!  So I sat there scheming and it dawned on me at the perfect moment.

Have you or anyone else you know ever do that fake sneeze thing where they flick a bunch of water on you while faking a sneeze?  Yeah its kind of gross, but it was right up my alley.  I went into the kitchen, just out of her view and got my hands wet.  I was fully prepared to do the fake sneeze but then I realized I had a beast of a fart on deck.  

I came walking back into the room as if nothing was happening.  I had to walk right by her to get back into the living room.  She was glued to the TV so I walked by, cranked my leg up, blew one of the most putrid farts I ever conjured and at the same time flicked water on her.

She jumped!  She screamed!  "Oooooooh, fart juice!!!!" and took off running and gagging.  Me?  I hit the floor.  At this point, I didn't care if dad came home and killed me.  This was an act of brilliance that only comes around once in a lifetime and I seized the moment.  

I was rolling on the floor and laughing hysterically.  She ran to the bathroom to decontaminate.  She really thought somehow, fart juice blew through my jeans and hit her on the arm and shoulder!  That'd be a helluva thing, but its pretty impossible.  (I have decided this by all of the research I have done since.)  I knew that she would be decontaminating for a couple of hours.  I was safe from her calling dad, so I figured I had a 50/50 chance of surviving this attack.

Well, dad came home.  The house was silent.  I think Tara was still in the bathroom or maybe she was crying in her bedroom.  Either way, dad had not been notified and that was a winner for me!

Dad walks in and says, "Howdy son!  How was your day?"  Before I could answer he asked where my sister was.  "I think shes in the bedroom, dad."  He said, "No blow ups or anything?"  I answered, "Well, no.  Not really."

In walks Tara.  She at one point had cried and it was obvious.  It was also obvious that she had taken at least 3 showers.  She stared at me.  If looks could kill, I was a dead man.  Dad looks at me with a familiar look which brought me a good deal of concern.

Dad said, "What happened, honey?"  As she started to tell the story, she began to cry.  Dad rushed her into his bedroom.  Before he shut the door he said, "Ill be talking with you in about 1 minute."

I was caught.  This was it.  I was going to get killed for fart juice!  Its not even a thing!  And it wasn't violent!  Nobody got hurt, so to speak.  I didn't curse...  but I knew this wasn't going to bode well for me.

The one minute mark passed.  Now I am about to shit a brick.  I am hoping and praying that my step mom would show up and cause some kind of a diversion, but she wasn't due home for a couple of hours.

Dad's bedroom door opens and my little sister walked into the living room where I was seated.  Dad had an unfamiliar look on his face and was massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.  He did the "come here thing" with his pointer finger and went back into the room.  

"Dead man walking" I thought.  This was it.  I finally did what it was going to take to get murdered by my own father.  He walked into his walk in closet and started to unbutton his work shirt.  I was standing behind him, strategically out of reach.  His body started slightly jerking.  I thought he was crying or having a seizure for a minute.  He turned around and was laughing his ass off!  I knew not to think I was in the clear yet.

I matched his laughter with a half grin.  He sat down, still laughing.  He said, "What exactly did you do to your sister?"  As his laughter subsides, he starts staring at me.  This was a make or break minute.  I knew that I had to tell the truth so I said, "Well dad, I walked by her, cranked my leg up, farted as hard as I could and splashed water on her at the same time."

He about fell off the chair.  He said, "What in the hell is the matter with you?"  I just kind of shrugged, smiled and laughed a little.  Now the old man stands up and says, "Son, I don't know what caused you to do that.  I don't know where your head was or what made you feel like that was a good idea, but it was funny!  Don't ever do it again.  Were probably going to have to get your sister therapy.  She thinks you farted juice on her."  I laughed.  He laughed.  I apologized to him and as I left he half heartedly kicked me in the ass while saying, "Never again."

To this day, I haven't done that again.  To my sister or anyone else.  I asked my sister for permission to put this out there and she granted it by saying "I'm not convinced that wasn't fart juice.  I am traumatized to this day."

Anyhow, true story and pretty indicative of what kind of a big brother I was.  I made her taste wet cement once.  It's fine.  She lived. Not only did she live, she is really doing well.  Maybe not psychologically, but by appearance alone-she's good and I hope you are too.

Take care, folks.  See you next time.

The Good Old Days

 

I remember hearing my grandfather talk about "the good old days".  Back then, I had no idea what he was talking about.  I was like 5 or 6 years old the first time I heard him mention them.  I had no life experience to go on.  I mean, I was 5 or 6.  The good old days for me then would have been last Tuesday or something.

Now that I am a good deal older, I too look back on "the good old days".  As we age, I think we all do and I also think it means different things for most of us.  For instance, some may remember the good old days of being days you could sleep through the night and not have to pee 3 times.  Others may remember them as the days of being super active and waking up with no aches or pains.  Still, others may consider the good old days as being able to remember where they sat their car keys down.  

I pee 2 to 3 times a night these days.  I have new aches and pains almost daily.  I have spent an hour looking for my car keys when they were in my left front pocket.  This has nothing to do with the good old days for me.  Nope.  

The good old days for me was when I had my mullet!!!  Hear me out.  I was in my early 20's.  My mullet provided me with superpowers that I had all but forgotten!  I felt a little bit like the red neck man of mystery.  I could day drink all day.  I could night drink all that night.  I could get a phone call the next morning from work because they needed me to cover a shift, and I would handle business with a damned hangover that could kill a science lab cat!  BOOM!!! Superpower shit!

I met the love of my life while having the Power Mullet!  30+ years later, still married, still kicking ass together!  BOOM!  Superpower shit!

I tried to get my wife pregnant after we got married.  Nothing... Do you know why?  I cut my hair, that's why.  No mullet, no babies, baby.  Grew that bad mother lover back and BOOM-BOOM!  Two healthy, happy baby boys!  Superpower shit!

I could break up a fight in the bar, get punched in the face while doing so... BOOM!  That shit didn't even almost hurt!  Superpower shit!

My first pronghorn antelope hunt... my dad was witness to this.  He's not with us any longer and cannot verify but, I bestowed some SUPERPOWER shit on him.  I made an incredible shot on a nice buck.  You know why... the mullet provided me with some unadulterated Superpower shit!!!

I wasn't taking PED's.  I wasn't reading or learning new shit!  I didn't have time for that!  My mullet and I had shit to take care of!  We acted and we reacted all in an attempt to make the world a better place, and it was!

Biggest fish I ever caught... was with my mullet.  Biggest deer and elk I ever harvested... was with my mullet.  Survived a truck jump while hunting antelope with my dad...  while sporting my mullet.  I probably could have been killed 300 times, but the mullet wouldn't let it happen.  We had shit to do!

My mullet was a cloak of invincibility.  For about a 10 year span, me and my mullet were kings!  We were known throughout the land for out philanthropic endeavors.  We slowed global warming.  Todays billionaires came to me and my mullet for advice, and just look at them now!  Those guys are kicking financial ass... thanks to me and my mullet!

I was a more competent friend and a more fierce adversary when I had my mullet.

It's hard to believe that I was once better looking than I am now... I know... but I was with my mullet.

Stronger!  I was stronger with my mullet... That's not true.  I was stronger when I had my head shaved, but the spirit of the mullet ran strong within me!

This is what the good old days are about to me.  I made a major life decision this morning.  The mullet is coming back.  I need it's goodness, wholesomeness and its superpowers now more than anything.  This getting old shit is for the birds and my mullet can help me conquer old age!  I'm sure of it.  It has to be true.

I was way more fucking awesome when I had my mullet.  Look at the evidence I provided!  There is simply no mistaking this fact!  The world was different when I had my mullet.  These are just the facts, folks.  

I guess another way to look at this was, I was younger then.  Way younger.  Better looking too, but maybe that was just a coincidence.  I don't know.

Since I've gotten older and lost the mullet, I've had things go upside down in my life.  Currently I am nursing a back back to health.  I'm doing PT 2 times a week.  I never needed PT back in those days.  Nowadays, I have to worry about shitting my pants when I sneeze.  That didn't used to be a thing, but it is now.  I can walk inside the house, go into the bathroom, forget why I am there, walk back outside and have to take an emergency piss on the other side of the garage because I forgot I had to pee!  Again, used to not be a thing, but it is now.

You know what?  The more I talk about this, the more I realize that I am just becoming an old fart.  My grandfather never had a mullet.  Maybe he was referring to just being young when he mentioned the good old days.  I don't know.

For the record and just in case, I am going to grow the mullet back.  That shit was awesome!  I may grow the mullet back, get into performing magic with a midget cohort and do my best to change the world one tiny midget step at a time.  Stay tuned!