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1 October 2016, 11:07

I’m back. Yup. I told you I would be.

Plus, I’m back on the treadmill. I had quit all the exercise for a bit and when I started up my new job, I thought I just wouldn’t have time, of which I really don’t have but I made a groan as I was getting out of a chair the other day, so, since I didn’t want to be an out-of-shape ball of goo, I have taken up the running shoes again. I even mowed the lawn today. So, an hour and 15 minutes on the treadmill of death, and an hour and 15 mowing an acre and a half of sand and weeds, and I am spent. I don’t really have a main topic to explore, I just have a lot of bits that I can cover. Fiddlybits of the soul…. and with pictures.

1. So, after sweaty time, I feel surprisingly good. Showered, gobbled some ibuprofen, drank some water and now doing this whilst watching Alton Brown’s Feasting on Waves. I rewatch this a lot – I am cheered by fat Alton and his trip through the islands, eating and boozing it up. I like fat Alton more than skinny Alton. He seems more jolly and happy. People who don’t worry about what they eat/enjoy eating seem to be happier. Ever seen a gathering of vegetarians? I went to a health food vegetarian restaurant and the people look like flood survivors waiting for their FEMA issued blankets. Doesn’t this man look happy? I want to be as happy as this fat man.

Treadmill is not so hard these days. When I started back up, it SUCKED more than having to listen to a room full of Trump supporters during the early bird special argue with the TV news. I’m really fucking old now and tired a lot of the time. Being more active usually rids me of all that, plus, I’ve found out that the 5 hour energy shots are like meth to me. Give me one of them and I can actually feel peppy and up for a good long while. It last for a day and a half. I don’t so much care about being old as I do about feeling old. And being juiced on go-go brine makes me feel goooooddddd. Okay, so the shot itself, taste like crap, but I choke it down with some coco cola and I’m alright-fer-fightin’. Not going to get on that scale for a while, since I’m not wanting be thrown into deep depression just yet. It’s just nice not to make old lady noises and able to walk to the car without being winded.

2. Back me up on this women folk, I’m EXTRAORDINARILY NICE in letting my living room look like this on a permanent basis. I think this would be a HOLY SHITSTER moment for anybody. This is the LIVING ROOM. The biggest room in the house. The room that could be used as, well, a place of living. Instead it hosts a number of musicians and those who call themselves musicians, playing the crap at loud levels and usually boozing it up. Sometimes there’s music drama, sometimes not, and I wouldn’t mind it all if we could just make the rest of the house sound proof and/or they wouldn’t play the same thing over and over and over and over and over again. We need to get him a little trailer or barn or garage or some place where all this stuff could happen. It would let me be able to watch my Babylon 5 in peace and quiet. But I can’t say much about it. He lets me have the zoo. You got to be a special human being to let yer gal have 215 lbs. of dog running around. Yes, you see a new one. Lila. Lila is the 5-10 month old, 53 lb., ball of drama that is ours now. And that chair they are on? That smells bad. The cats have peed on it, the dogs sleep on it. When they are dirty and stinky, they stay on it. The drag their nasty bones and hunks of food to it to chow in peace. I think Sophie might have even vomited on it. There was a pair of them, but we got rid of one as a free item on Craigslist. I don’t believe someone took a free, stinky dog chair they found on the internet. Even I don’t have confidence in sitting on that chair for long periods of time. I’ve drowned it in Febreeze and Lysol, and it just gives it a flowery stink.

3. This is my next project. I overpaid for this dresser and plan to sand it down, paint it and put new knobbies on it without hurting myself or making a mess. Now, the first part of that is possible, but I think the last part is just me being optimistic. Paint and sand paper. Yeah, and the internet so I can Youtube up some instructions. It’s a heavy motherfucker though, and I am NOT handy. I’m not crafty, nor am I particularly smart, so we’ll see what sort of horrendous mistake I’ll be making in thinking this project will be possible. I don’t know how to get the stain off of the bottom ornate part. A poisonous solvent that will eat a hole through the carpet? Blowtorch? Hammer and butter knife? Who knows. I’m just ignorant enough to be excited at the new, nice dresser I’ll have after I’m done. I got the idea for this off of the internet, and as we all know, nobody ever got a bad idea off the internet…

4. Trump. What the bloody fucking hell is wrong with you people? I’ve stopped giving people who support Trump the benefit of the doubt. You are fucking morons. I enjoy watching the world burn, just as much as the next guy, but you got to be fucking kidding me. Clinton, for all her faults and all her mistakes, of which are blown WAY out of proportion is ten times the public servant that Trump could ever hope to accidentally run into on the street. She’d be a better choice if she drove a school bus full of puppies into a hospital full of nuns. There is no way on god’s green earth, that sack of orange playdough could ever muster the brain cells enough to form a cogent and completely coherent train of thought without having somebody with their hand up his ass operating his arms and mouth. He has NO earthly idea of what he is talking about ANY of the time, he has NO motivation to help make anything better for anyone except himself. He hasn’t the temperament, experience, smarts, or impulse control to make him a good crossing guard much less commander-in-chief. I’ve watched Trump supporters sputter out half sentences and stunted thought pieces, and much like an angry overboiling teapot with tourette’s, spin around red faced and incoherent barking out TRUMP. They are mad at the world, and mad at you for trying to make them think. They don’t have good arguments that contain facts, any sort of plans or policy and NO real debate as to why they support Trump other than they don’t like Hillary. They couldn’t tell you why they don’t in great detail, and I suspect they are deplorable. I can call them that. I’m not running for president. You people are the disgusting floaters in a tank full of shit. I have no love for Hillary but, I’ll be damn if I put party and personal preference in front of what’s best for the country. Hell. Even if not the best, at least its not a detrimental bag of self tanner that will destroy our nation. You don’t think HIllary is a bad policy maker or a ill equipped candidate. You just don’t like her. You flat out just don’t like her. At first I thought it was a plan Trump had, but I don’t think he has a clue as to what’s going on, and I really do think he is pretty bat shit cray cray. You don’t demand that you have courage and integrity, you demonstrate it. You prove sacrifice and service by giving it – just having a ghost writer pen it in your biography doesn’t make it true. I am sickened that this stubby, small man with a minor league grasp of reality and a D-list train wreck sort of existence has a chance of leading the free world. Fuck him and fuck you all for supporting him. I haven’t yet heard a reasonable reason why he should even be allowed out in public, much less be president.

5. Remember this: http://macmothership.com/? Well, I’m starting it back up again. Turning in my new column sometime this weekend. Hopefully. I’ll find the funny. Invariably, I write funnier when I’m up a treadmill, and babbling in my head than I do when I actually sit down to do this, but I hope it will be halfway entertaining, as I hope this was.

Hope springs eternal, my friend….