It's over!

Thank goodness this electioneering is all but behind us. I have not seen this many criminals proudly on display since taking in G.A.R. sporting events.

Speaking of that shuttered correctional facility used as a high school, now that our three high schools have merged into one my grandsons asked for my thoughts when I offered this: If a girl offers you drugs, she's from Meyers. If a girl offers you sex, she's from G.A.R. Nailed it!

This guy posted a picture of the demolition of the former WNEP building and it got us to giggling about my ill-fated appearance on Bowling for Dollars with Jay Kristopher.

See, before you got on set and rolled, you sat on toadstools in Hatchy Malatchy Land so he could scribble notes on a cue card about you before he shoved a microphone into your face on camera. Basic interview stuff like where you work, go to school, reside, etc. So we talked about cooking at Percy Brown's which he was very impressed with. Then we gabbed about attending L.C.C.C. As I'm seconds away from stepping out from behind a plywood barrier, my mind is rehearsing Percy Brown's, L.C.C.C., Wilkes-Barre. Done. So the stagehand slides the plywood out of the way, I step out and Jay leans in with "Who's going to win the Super Bowl?" Huh? What? Dude, what the f>ck? The actual bowling went even worse.

I recently sat with a candidate for state representative and her father. It was doubly fun for me since her dad and I bowled together in high school. True story: We participated in a statewide junior bowling tournament. Now, that's statewide, mind you. We rolled at the old YMCA in Williamsport. Nevermind the harrowing road trip in an 1837 Corvair. We rolled on a pair of lanes on which the second highest series of all time was recorded by Dave Wilcox, a former Professional Bowling Association member.

As soon as I released my first offering, I knew this was going to be a good night. I struck and struck and struck some more. It's been a while, but I believe I rolled a 709 series. Not bad for a 17-year-old. Pretty damn good if you happen to have rolled it in a junior bowling tournament. So anyway, months pass and it's all but forgotten until the awards day ceremony in the Coughlin auditorium. the presenter mentions our appearance at the tournament and announces that I finished 112th. 112th!!! Gee, that's impressive. Not!

When the assembly was over and I wandered away, I was still having trouble processing this. 111 junior bowlers threw higher than that!?! Really? So which is worse? Bowling for dollars or for trophies?

This was my first time voting as a resident of Plains, so I was visiting my new polling place for the very first time. And what I learned was that there six or seven identical versions of Medic 2.

Gotta check my fantasy team.

Effs for darn near everyone.

I just continue to sit here and watch while the end days play out.

The pathetic Dems have been trying to focus on Adolf Saddam Trump, even though he's no longer in office, because of Joe Biden's seemingly endless list of failures: his border crisis, exploding inflation, energy costs, food costs, his troubling attempts to push legalized murder (abortion) onto the nation, his massive spending on foolhardy climate change ideology, his disastrous Afghanistan pullout and on and on. Eff him. Not to mention his cackling, giggling vice whatever. Eff to her.

Even Hillary is out riding her tired broom again. Now she claims the "deplorables" are card-carrying nazis. Funny thing with her is how she was content with influence peddling when the democrats denied her 'her' presidency. But when the republicans did the very same thing she became a vitriolic, name-calling, spiteful witchipoo. Eff her!

And while average Americans are trying not to go financially tits-up, silly Joe tells us we're doing better than before he took office. And with a straight face, no less. With that noted, he hands out a presidential medal to Elton John. So he IS out of his fu>king mind. Proof positive.

You tell me, man. If we needed one face to attach to the phrase serial killer, could we do better than John Fetterman's? Methinks not. Eff off, pretty boy!

Russia wants to start calling Europe the European Theater after a nuke flies and a wider military conflict erupts. Figure that one. Meanwhile China is obviously spoiling for a fight in the Pacific. Eff them! They should stick to germ warfare, something they've proven they're good at.

Luckily, the NFL season is upon us, so we can spend our time not watching the streaming channels we refuse to pay for. Billionaires suck, because billionaires are never content with billions. And eff them, too!

Buh-bye.

No Don, No biggie

So, I missed the big Save America rally. Not really sure why, but the tickets never arrived. Same thing happened to another couple I know of. I suspect that the tickets were denied because I refused to donate cashish to the relentless Trump campaign (or whatever they call it) for down-ballot candidates. Thing is, I have never given a penny to any political candidate. Not once. Not even close.

Ain't no big thing. It's not like I was waiting on concert tickets. I watched the local news the next day only to learn that approximately 300,000 of those dangerous folks threatening democrcy did receive theirs. F>ck you, Biden. Do what you're told by your foreign handlers and quit with the pathetic attempts at cognitive thought. And, again, f>ck you and yours. God (sorry) only knows, you're dry-f>cking all of ours.

I see Governor Wolf made like a true democrat with his electioneering executive order. There's another conniving sumbitch that needs a seriously overdue clip to the lip. I think Republicans need to make like the sickening opposition and vote thrice. It's only fair.

Enough with all of that grotesque morass-a-thon. More ass? That's what young Markie used to think.

Guess what I did to enhance the NFL experience last night. I bought a 30-pack of beer. First one since March 2017. I've done everything asked of me by the medical professionals. Despite the Stroke, I've been increasing the level of exercise. I've shed quite a few pounds, dropping from 229 to my preferred fighting weight of 205.

Anyway, I've been a good boy. So much so, I intend to tell my primary care physician about the 30-pack. In my damaged mind, you gotta let loose every five years or so. It's not like I'm one of those pansexual, drug-addled leftists, for whom everyday seems to be yet another intoxicated threesome. No rules. No judgments. You know, no more catholicism allowed in Amerika.

The doc can't climb up my back too far, this morming 27 of those aforementioned brews were still tucked in here in the man bunker. Beer, batteries, ammo...seems I'm ready for the leftist's utopian tyranny.

How about this one? Being that we've escaped from Wilkes-Barre's much-heralded diversity and it's fast collapsing neighborhoods, where do we think I'd likely go looking for new friends here in the new 'burgh?

Yepper, you nailed it.

Same as it ever was, sans the zip code.

Safer this!

So, Joe Biden came to town for an invitee-only event and tried to portray Defundocrats as the true pro-law enforcement party ahead of the November midterms. I suppose we law-abiding types should forget about that ill-advised, sad and ultimately destructive "defund the police" command that flowed from the left as the permanently-tanned insurectionists burned city after city.

He touted his "Safer America" plan in which assault weapons are denied to card-carrying Americans in favor of the Taliban. Typical. Safer for whom? Children? Yeah, go kill your unborn children, insipid Defundocrats.

Besides, without borders, Safe and America go together like oil and water. It's safer in Joe's gated world, not ours.

Ah, but the day-long traffic snarl was fun to watch up this way. People, we cannot function without the cross valley expressway being open. Somehow we managed to before it was even thunk of. Figure that one. But why sweat it as the end of days is seemingly upon us?

Let's revisit it, life before the new cross flood zone highway. North street bridge to Wyoming Avenue. Turn right and proceed to Stull Brothers. Make that left through Luzerne, through the rock cut and into the Back Mountain on the 'Dallas Highway'. Yes, we'll stop at Twin Kiss for a swirl, then we're off to Sandy Beach. Red light after red light after red light. But an adventure nonetheless. These days, they get on the new highway, close their eyes and stand on the accelerator. This is not an adventure, this is progress. (?)

Make that trip in a brand new 1966 Datsun as I once did. Now let's talk about adventurism. The thing couldn't handle a New Haven to Wilkes-Barre excursion. Been there, done that...broken down in Hamlin waiting on an exfil. I think my evil motorhead of a step-dad bought that imported go-cart just to further torture my poor mother. And torture it did.

How's that for an arguably brief aside?

When do we start getting pressured to willingly line up for the untested RumpyCox vaccine? (Will gay men never learn?) I got stuck with Moderna A through Z even though I knew I'd be embarrassed to admit to having done so. And here I am still wearing a f>cking irritating face mask. Sorry, no more bullspit vaccines. I'm done with all of the compounding lies. Done.

I saw the Times Leader video proving that a police advisory committee comprised of citizens was in fact the worst idea possible if the goal was improving policing. I will not miss a chance to repeat myself: Policing is best left to the police. Never you mind those stupid-ass would-be cops. Never you mind Democrats. Most importantly, ignore self-impressed women who cannot even manage a legal license plate.

I got a new toy from Scamazon. Again, I'm embarrassed to admit even glancing at Scamazon, the only retail slime worst than Sprawl-Mart. Anyway, I got almost all of my new toy. It was short a key part. We've been trading emails and it's become obvious that Scamazon will not make good on this mistake on their part. All that they've offered is proof of delivery. Yeah, I've conceded on that. I DID receive a package, a package that was incorrectly packed.

As my past electronic scribblings have shown, once a retail concern is added to my "banned" list it never sees another one of my pennies. Scamazon is now on the list.

No biggie. I can make damn near anything with two wheels roll.

Even Bezos' sh*t. I can't wait to see him marooned in space, provided he takes Elon with him. The adults at NASA won't miss them.

Bye

Invasive Adventures

Earlier this week I had a Heart Catheterization and Ventriculoraphy performed at Wilkes-Barre General Hospital. The results were of the desired variety. All good.

Just to be perfectly clear, I'm neither whining nor throwing myself a pity party. It's just that medical adventures have become a mainstay of my new reality. Fret not for me, I'm tougher than I look.

I knew the procedure was necessary and went in there in a positive state of mind. Beforehand I deliberately avoided playing Dr. Google on the interweb so as to not psyche myself out. I knew it had a typical time span of 30 to 60 minutes. Mine ran 64 minutes which surprised me. But, going in there ignorant did in fact unnerve me some when I was on the table staring at the ceiling. No, after being dosed with a radioactive isotope I did not want to watch the proceedings on the drive-in movie screen that was in my face. Go ahead and make grafitti on the walls of my heart but leave me alone now that the sedative has kicked in.

Yes, the nurse applied that aforementioned sedative and the apprehension went poof! Markie all gooder now. Get to hackin' Doc.

Anyway, I'm not waiting on a donor or any horror show stuff such as that. Give me my medications, my supplements and my exercises. I'll see you out there on the levee while speedily buzzing appointed pussies with an electric vehicle.

Oh, I landed two tickets for the September 3rd Save America rally with D.J. Trump at the Muckhegan Son Arena.

Be still my heart.

Later

Make Amerikans Tough Again

Oh no! Not foul language! Not judgemental hatred! Didn't the leftists make that offensive sort of stuff illegal?

As for me, I love it.

Now go pout at your drum circle.

Freakin' throwback Friday

There once was this electronic oasis. A mirage, if you will.

Got me, man. All I did was drink and type. Well, when I wasn't cycling.

Miss it, I do.

Clintel crazies

Some of these freaking scientists need to be beaten down by the oft-violent leftists. You are not allowed to deviate from what the latest edict orders you to believe.

There is no climate emergency

What nerve.

Do-gooder tyrants

Just as soon as people are elected or appointed to a position of supposed authority, they set off on some inane do-gooder claptrap about public safety.

Since I was a small child, I've heard the incessant noise about the evil and danger associated with smoking cigarettes. Now that people are vaping rather than lighting up, the would-be power brokers are lining up against vaping. Figure that one out. If there's a miniscule bit of logic involved, I fail to grasp it.

I went and had me a huge health freak out. Immediately afterwards, I traded my beloved Newports for electronic cigarettes. My blood pressure then dropped like the Biden economy. Works for me. Got a problem with that? F>ck off, tyrant!

Near and dear...

Next we've got the half-century-long outright demand that we save Mother Earth in part by switching to electric vehicles. And as we all know, the Euro-weenie greenies just love bicycles as a principle form of transport. Currently, one of the biggest growth industries is the manufacture and sale of electric bicycles, pedal-assist and otherwise.

They are transformative in that people are cycling more than ever before, they are not burning liquified dinosaurs, they make cycling possible for the somewhat disabled and the elderly. They are relatively inexpensive game changers.

I myself have been studiously tooling away on my newly converted Hummer, which is of the pedal-assist variety. I cannot wait to wear it out. Try, that is. The Hummer has rolled 17,000 miles since 2006 and had only one tune-up. A tune-up performed by our bicycle pros at Around Town Bicycles in downtown Wilkes-Barre. Thing is, I seriously doubt that it can be worn out.

With that having been circumlocuted quite nicely, up jumps the Luzerne County Flood Protection Authority yammering on about how dangerous e-bikes can be when ridden on the valley's levee system. Oh boy, we need policies, we need rules, we need restrictions, we means to assert our authority over you reckless e-bike criminalists. All other previously stated priorities are now rescinded. Nevermind about all of that other drool.

I've spent five years getting my health back to where it needs to be while retooling my favorite bike. And when the time comes, the Hummer and I will traverse every goll-danged foot of that levee system, appointed sissies be damned.

One...more...time: F>ck off!

I had a Heart Catheterization and Ventriculography performed at Wilkes-Barre General Hospital yesterday. The results were outstanding. And with a medication change, I figure to be out there on the levee with my e-bike soon enough. As for the Flood Authority pussy, he should probably stick to what he's gotten good at.

You know, watching the floods.

Study up

Necessary reading, kiddies.

Life on the Ballot

later

Uncle Mike

Good ole days stuff.

When we were fighting like Ukranians against former Congressman Paul Kanjorski's proposed rubber dam at Wilkes-Barre, he told me "You don't know how Washington works." My response to that foolishness was this question..."Do you know who Michael Kirwan was?" He claimed to have known Michael Kirwan, something I did not take issue with.

Uncle Mike at Wickiworld

I received that booklet when my grandparents took me to Washington D.C. to visit Uncle Mike in his political element. I have many other souvenirs from that day in the late sixties. Turns out, Michael J. Kirwan was my grandfather's brother.

Hell, I save everything.

Later

No mo Nord End

The North End Little League is no more.

No matter. Children don't go outside anymore. Sports are electronicized.

I get it. Times change. But it saddens me.

ABOVE: 1992 North End 9 & 10-yr-old all-stars

I'm sad for yours, not mine. My grandkids are out there playing ball.

Drink Heavily

We somehow averted a nuclear war last night after Nancy Pelosi took yet another backhanded swipe at China. What utter excitement.

Anybody come down with Punkymox yet? Anyone really believe it exists? This 1,000-year contagion malarkey has gone well beyond old. How'd that shutting down of the economy work out? Masks? Social distancing? Untested vaccinations? Despotism doesn't work as public health policy. Policy dictated by men wearing dresses, no less.

So what's next from the Wuhan proving ground?

Joe Biden's economic prowess is akin to Jimmy Carter's stagnation destruction. Hell, they'll destroy the anglosphere yet...just you wait and see. This is the Dollar General economy, in which Sprawl-mart suddenly becomes the haunt of the more well-heeled.

We now have more DGs than Mickey Ds, so if your ass gets as wide as the Susquehanna (getting there) you ought not blame McDonald's anymore.

Meanwhile, I'm busily working towards acquiring a REAL ID (whatever the fu>k that is) while trillions of illegal democrats stomp our borders flat. Be serious, the elections can't be stolen...right? Right?

It ONLY took the Geek Squad a month to replace the power button on my desktop. As with damn near everything else, I suppose covid would be their excuse. As if.

What does it tell you when LTBGRIQ events come off looking like Mardi Gras for the mentally ill?

One more statement like that and the Justice Department goes all Cliven Bundy on me. Randy Weaver? David Koresh? Marilyn Monroe? Lee Harvey Oswald?

That's how you reduce gun crimes (in a county where it's illegal to possess a chicken.)

Don't bitch at me. Stupidity begets stupidity or some such thingie.

Bye

2900 miles west of Plains

Never you mind. Private joke kind of deal.

March of the baby killers

As was predictable, thanks to the Ho vs. Wade correction, the Democrats are threatening us with yet another wave of rioting. Since the communists assumed control of this political party, rioting and lawlessness have been tirelessly used to disrupt and distort every step of the way. Straight from the commie playbook: get em angry, get em in the streets and hope for the spark that ignites a revolution. ........ This time baby killers will lecture us about constitutional rights. Yeah! As if our founding fathers could envision a day when American women could not keep their legs closed. ...... Just so I,ve got it straight, You dont want your children killed by guns while scalpels are readily availble. Right? ....... Enjoy the arson and looting. Enjoy the stolen tv upgrade. Enjoy the bissful ignorance. ........ Oh, and eff off! ######## Man. These Fire tablets suck. Typical loss-leader garbage. ....... Later

Please stand by

Mr. 'Puter went and took ill. Yesterday he had to go to Best Buy Hospital. Today he's being trasferred to a facility in New Jersey for surgery on his power button. No, not his belly button. 😬 Anywho, this sort of electronic tomfoolery will not come easy without the old guy. 😣😣

Reminder

Do it!

It flattens hills!!!

The world is my Ukraine

When my blogging misadventures were in their infancy, I had enough grandrodents to fill a Radio Flyer.

As you can see, I now have the Grandrodent Mountain Division ready to forward-deploy from Fort McG.

Now...

And then..

Video Flapdoodle

If you happen to reside in Oregon...this ought to help get you caught up.

Brace yourself.

Sorry.

Jihad Markie

No, I'm not really packing a bomb or anything else for the holiday noted for explosions.

If you've ever experienced a hit-and-run electro encephalogram at a medical facility, trust me, that's got nothing in common with the four-day at-home version. Four days with electrodes pasted all over your skull while connected to a computer hanging around your neck. No bath. No shower. Cameras watching and listening. You know, no fun.

The selling point being that if all goes well, we eliminate the seizure medication. So, it's got a positive spin put on it going in. Yippee!

In this case, no news is good news. And I've gotten no news. I"ll be seeing my neurologist next month, so I'll get the official word from the brain boss.

Until then, We'll stick with the good little Markie routine: no smoke, no drink, salt, or monosodium glutamate. Nope, just exercise, diet coke and extremely loud music. Actually louder than loud. We'll just pound that brain back into shape.

Remember, if it ain't loud, it ain't worth a fu>k.

Buh-bye

Can we throwback on Friday?

Since there's a law against everything except rioting and looting combined with arson, I doubt we get away with this transgression.

Throwing, we are.

Recognize that tiny building on the backside?

Wasn't that once a hotel or something?

Thrown!

The latest

Been kind of a busy news cycle of late. Annoying as all hell, as is usually the case. Doesn't matter all too much since we seem to be on the very edge of the abyss.

With the Supremes sans Diana Ross shooting down modern-day eugenics, the lefties are foaming at the mouth all over again. I suppose the flash mob riots and looting are already being planned by the DNC myrmidons.

Wilkes-Barre is still renaming everything after the late Reverand Rabble Rouser. So, now it's racist to say I met my wife at Coal Street Park? Sure as hell is.

And since Wilkes-Barre is listed in the dictionary under perfection, the city held a rainbow rally on Public Square (soon to be named King Square) for lack of anything pressing to do.

Remember when city council was comprised of adults?

And who's jerkin' who with this saving the earth hoodwinking? You need a lithium battery-powered lawnmower and light-emitting diodes but drive a gargantuan pickup truck that passes as an Iowa class dreadnaught? Wake up, dummies. Check your displacement!

With Vlad the Destroyer blockading the ports of Ukraine, a worldwide shortage of sunflower seeds is sure to follow. No matter, we'll beat people at the supermarket if need be. If you need lessons on administering beatings, they give free lessons up at Sprawl-Mart when the trailer park escapees get their checks.

And when and where did this burn pit nonsense come from? Arse 1: What do you want to do tonight? Arse 2: Oh, burn wood in the back yard, of course. Why the silly question? Latino Arse: Burn household trash in the back yard.

Despite the local ordinances banning their use, keep on splashing the accelerants all around. Watching arses burn makes it somehow tolerable.

No sense calling 911. Wouldn't want to wake them.

Later

Recumbent tricycle

My new toy, the Mobo.

Acid Mine Drainage still draining

While some believe the environmental damage brought on by anthracite coal mining is an issue dredged up from the past, it's still an ongoing issue that will require millions of dollars and some dogged determination to rectify.

Note the drainage pooled on the Plains side of the river opposite the Forty Fort cemetery.

Pay close attention at the four minute mark as we paddle through it.

Sewage Outflows still an issue

This one is like revisiting my time in the war. The Lake Kanjorski War, that is. While I was but a lowly private, I did come to know the legendary general.

Susquehanna River Sentinel

And the mighty congressman done took a mighty fall.

The Belgrade Bridge

My childhood was a damaging mix of violence, upheaval, uncertainty and confusion. The confusion has stayed with me for decades on end thanks in part to the passing of all of what some would call elders. The questions remained, but the answers were no longer available. When the kidnapping imbroglio was settled and my Irish-Catholic mom with a bastard in tow was pressured to 'find that boy a father', she remarried rather quickly.

So after being spirited away, after being returned to Wilkes-Barre, and after being whisked away to Bridgeport, Connecticut for my third birthday, there was still more geographical tumult to follow.

It didn't take too, too long to learn my stepdad yearned to return to his family farm in Maine. During the 1960s we had visited the rural homestead a few times whereby I was reminded that I might be remaining there in perpetuity if and when he found suitable employment. He never did find anything even close to his lucrative job back in CT. So here I sit in Culm County, PA.

When his father passed away in 1967, it seemed as if the big move was finally afoot. Or something. I dunno, I was a kid. I will confess to loving the setting. Never forgot it. The virgin forest, the unpaved roads, the WWI cemetery, the spring water, the hand pump in the kitchen sink, the outhouse and most especially the collapsed bridge.

Thing is, while I knew we were in Maine, I never actually knew where. And after my mom was gone, I would never know. Seemed like it. And that always gnawed at me...where did I almost grow up at?

When I snuck onto the internet in 1996, I figured I could go all Detective Google and find that bridge. How hard could it be to find a collapsed bridge in Maine anyway? Trust me, it was hard. Harder than I would have believed going in.

Still unpacking after the big move out of Wilkes-Barre, I came across a cardboard box filled with mostly ancient letters that my mom had saved. Lo and behold, there sat this letter from Readfield, Maine, from people who's names I did not recognize. Car 4! Detective Google! The cold case again!

After much Googling, I had a eureka moment. Finally! After all these years. Google maps provided me with this.

The old bridge is submerged. What we see is a newer expanse.

So I went and got me a phone number and spent an hour talking to the lady that bought that farmhouse and raised her kids there. We are now Facebook friends sharing photos and such. Spring Hill Road, Readfield, Maine. I did it. The cloak is no more.

Thanks again, Mom and Dad and Dad and Dad. Thanks for the oft-confusing journey.

One of my most enduring memories as a youth is wandering down to the bridge with a .22 long-rifle in hand. Oh, and the maple-flavored chewing gum.

Sorry about all of that.

Later

Swytch (do it)

This is the device I used to convert my Hummer into a pedal-assist electric bike. It's amazingly easy to install. It's also unbelievably affordable.

If you decide to go this route I would be willing to assist.

Franklin's (Kidder Street) on WVIA

1988...

The Big EFF: Gone but not forgotten

My grandson Kroy wearing a throwback Big Ben shirt while pointing to a piece of the sign removed from our former location at 41 South Main Street, Wilkes-Barre. Franklin's may be gone, but the management band has recently gotten back together.

Brain-damaged

As some of you know, I suffered a fairly significant stroke some five years ago. It started with a heart attack, then a carotid blockage, then the meltdown. It's not much fun to be immobile, without the ability to speak, swallow, walk or even tie your shoes. Don't go there, you won't like it.

The therapists at John Heinz were as incredibly talented as I am hammer-headed. With that said, a big comeback was my plan from the getgo. I said big, not quick. Here I am five years removed, and I just now feel like typing again. Bad news for the lot of you, but I see it as good.

As for lingering deficits, the muscle memory in my fret hand is all but gone. No more guitar torture. I'm ranging around just fine. The doctors would not allow me to return to my job. Too physical, say they. I have added an electric hub motor on the front tire of my beloved Hummer, so the bikeabouts will soon resume.

The unexpected health emergency put the brakes on my long-sought meeting with my father and that has pained me since I now know his exact whereabouts in Alsea, Oregon. Yeah, that's Oregon, as in 2900 miles away. I"m working on the logistics and the like for the trip. By the way, they like the pronunciation to amount to ore-gun not gone. Nobody's gone.

I now reside in Plains Township. No, we don't miss the drugs, the shootings and all of the other nasty forms of reverse-gentrification that diversity provides us. Quiet works. Yeah, white flight is a workable plan afterall. Hell, I don't even listen to the police scanner anymore.

I would have never believed the end of the world could be so completely entertaining. Save for Putin and Biden, you people are hilarious. Without Sue and Rush, WILK is over for me. Wilkes-Barre is also over, although, not only for me. Thanks to the aforementioned diversity, the cities are losing their tax bases. And when the money goes away, so go the cities.

The core group of five grandchildren have accepted two expansion franchises: Kroy (6) and Koury (3). Like that? Koury Cour? In the past year we've had two finish high school and another finish kindergarten. Gettin' crowded, but I love it. My only regret about having children is that I had too few.

On a brief aside, when I was being placed in the ambulance five years ago, the EMT asked "aren't you the guy with the blog?" Yup, i'm THAT effin' guy. Somehow, I didn't get the cyanide drip. Now I'm just another brain-damaged guy with a blog.

Trump in '24!

Buh-bye