Politics And Strip Clubs

Every time an election rolls around, strip clubs and their patrons become easy targets for politicians especially at the local and the state level. The state of Georgia is trying to pass a state amendment that would charge strip clubs a $5000 yearly tax to stay in business. This tax would supposedly go towards helping to stop sex trafficking. Politicians are blaming sex trafficking on strip clubs. The state of California is always after the porn industry even though it brings the state in millions of dollars in tax money. A few years ago the state of Texas tried to institute a "pole tax" that would directly tax strip clubs and their customers.

The politicians need to leave strip clubs alone. If you do not want to go in them, stay home, go to a ball game, do something with your family or whatever. No one is forcing you to go in there. The women I know that work in strip clubs make much better money in there than they could as a cashier at Wal-Mart. If they want to place the blame on anything, blame alcohol for spousal abuse, child abuse, drunk driving, and bring back Prohibition. Let's see how well that would go over.

Nice Guys Finish Last

Legendary Baseball manager Leo Durocher is credited with coming up with the concept of "nice guys finish last." Mr. Durocher believed that nice guys did not have or do all of the dirty work that it took to win games. A lot of people apply that same concept to life. How does that concept apply to me? Am I a nice guy or am I that guy?

Public opinion seems to be mixed on that question but according to most that have weighed in, I am a little bit nice guy and a little bit that guy. How is that combination working for me you ask? Not too good. It seems that the people that I want to think I am a nice guy end up thinking I am that guy and the people that I could care less what they think believe I am a little bit of both. Someone recently advised me to "be myself" and it ended up coming out a combination of nice guy/that guy. That's ok though, because I wouldn't have me any other way.

That Guy: The Mentor

I take my job as a mentor very seriously. Some guys want to be sleazy but they just don't know how. It is my job as That Guy and as a mentor to give these poor saps life advice and point them in the right direction so they can achieve at least some of their sleazy goals.

I had two men come to me the other day for life advice. One is 31 years old, a hard working young man with a good job, one of those glamorous kind of jobs that women should be throwing themselves at him. "Lex" has been ruled by the women in his life, namely his Mom, and has never really had a strong male presence in his life. Enter That Guy. Lex wants to buy a horse and a horse trailer. Lex's mother objects. Lex presented his problem to me and my nemesis "Cream Puff." Cream Puff's advice was to not buy the horse because he may want to get married one day and horses are expensive. Wrong! Marriage is not the answer. Marriage is never the answer. That is why I call my nemesis Cream Puff. My advice was buy the horse, pick up some women along the way, have a good time, and enjoy life. As soon as the women mention a relationship or marriage, throw the women off the horse and move on at a fast gallop.

The Gas Shortage

It was announced yesterday that there was more than likely going to be a gas shortage in North Carolina over the course of the next couple of weeks due to a leak in the pipeline somewhere. I decided I had better stay at home this weekend so I conserve the half tank of gas I have in my car to get back and forth to work this week.

This happened one other time when I lived in Charlotte in 2010. At that time I was commuting about 50 miles a day round trip so it was a little more serious than this situation is (I think)as the gas shortage was region wide. I remember my store manager called all of the department managers together and gave us a big speech about how not having enough gas to make it to work would not be accepted as an excuse for not being there. He pretty well told us to not go anywhere after work. He decided to give an example. He said "I do not want to hear stories about you going to Leather and Lace South (a strip club in Charlotte) and then not having enough gas to get to work the next day." There were about 30 department managers in the room and when he said Leather and Lace South, 29 pairs of eyes looked at me. All I could come up with was "What? Why are you looking at me?" I couldn't help but laugh. I don't know why everyone I worked with would think I would do something like that.

I Better Hurry

This is one of those kind of stories that old men tell and as much as I hate to admit it, this story confirms my status as an old man. It was my day off, I slept in a little bit (and yes 8 AM is sleeping in) and I thought I would make a Bojangle's run when I got up. I had a few other errands to run while I was out and I thought I would take care of everything while I was out.

I went by Bojangle's, ate my biscuit, and headed by Ingle's to fill my car with gas. As I am finishing up, my stomach starts rumbling. I wanted to drop by my storage unit which was only about a quarter mile from Ingle's so I am thinking "I have plenty of time before I need to find a bathroom." I stopped by my storage unit and dropped off a few boxes and right as I was locking it back up, my stomach really started rumbling except for it was more of a growl. I needed to find a bathroom fast but my house was about three miles away. I quickly calculated that if I drove like a bat out of hell, I could make it to my house before my ass exploded. What I did not calculate was the fact that I had to go through a security gate, navigate traffic, a red light, and the local law enforcement who had nothing better to do than write speeding tickets on a Friday morning.

The speed limit to my house is 45 MPH. My math (and my ass) told me I needed to do 75 MPH. I kept one eye out for the local po po and the other eye watched out for traffic. I made it to the turn off to my driveway to the house and I had to wait on some old man out for a ride on his motorcycle, and another car. They did not understand the seriousness of my situation. I flew down my driveway and slid to a stop. I already had my seatbelt off and my key out to unlock the front door. I thought "I am going to make it!"

I ran up to the front door, jammed the key in the lock, turned the key, turned the door knob and bounced right off the front door. The door would not open. I slapped the door a couple of time in frustration, pulled my key out, and realized that I was a little too exuberant in trying to open the door. I had bent the key in half. I also realized that I had about five seconds to "splashdown."

I looked at my mangled key and I had to make a quick decision. The construction crew that works on the property had left a dump truck behind and I knew I needed to utilize the assets I had on hand. I sprinted over, pulled my shorts down (luckily I went kamikaze when I left the house), squatted beside one of the tires of the dump truck, and then my ass exploded. It was not pretty. My quick thinking had averted a disaster that could have happened in the front seat of my car but I knew it wasn't over yet.

I still needed to get back in the house before round two hit. I bent the key back as straight as I could, managed to get the door open, and promptly tripped right over my dog Molly, who was so happy to see me she could not hide her joy and was insistent on getting in my way all the way to the bathroom. After round two was over, I promptly threw my shorts away and took a shower.

I can now share my story with other old men and I am sure we will laugh about it. God knows a couple of my friends that I have already shared the story with have already found it funny as hell.

Strip Club Investigative Task Force

Greenville County, SC's persecution of the Platinum Plus Gentleman's Club has helped clue me in that I could have been getting paid to go to strip club's all of these years. Greenville took $26,000 of "forfeited" money was I believe the way it was listed and gave to undercover officers over the course of the year long investigation to spend on alcohol, lap dances, and some private time in the VIP room. Greenville County threw the book at the club and the girls that worked there. The charges varied from prostitution to exposure and performing illegal sex acts.

Greenville County spent over $100,000 in their prosecution of Platinum Plus including $80,000 in legal fees. One of the lawyer's watched ten hours worth of lap dance video in order to try to find examples of wrong doing. The first dancer on trial one a unanimous verdict in being acquitted. Her lawyer kicked the prosecution's ass and shredded their case. Platinum Plus has been fined $100,000 and a representative in the prosecutor's office described the situation as "almost a win."

It is now coming out that the officers were drunk (at taxpayer expense although the money was labeled as "forfeited"), committed sex acts of their own, and acted sleazier than the worst of the customers. I wonder if they are going to be fired or put on trial or even charged with the smallest of infractions?

I want to start my own Strip Club Investigative Task Force so I can investigate all of the wrong doings. Let the officers go back to fighting real crime and have a go at all of the unsolved murders, assaults, and robberies. Let me and my expert team investigate the dark underworld of the strip clubs and I promise we will get to the bottom of this.

My Own X-Files Story

I have never really formed a belief about UFO's. I have never really even given UFO's much consideration. I had a roommate once who was fascinated by UFO's. He watched all of the UFO shows- Ancient Aliens, UFO Sightings- and anything else that involved UFO's. He even dragged me to see that movie Cowboys Vs. Aliens. He ended up dying from pancreatic cancer shortly after he moved in and when I finally got around to clearing his DVR, he had 100 hours of UFO television shows recorded.

On the night of 6 September, I came home from work about 10:30 and I immediately leashed Molly up so I could take her for a walk. The skies were clear and it was a moonless night from my vantage point. We had just started walking down the driveway when I looked up and saw what I originally thought was an airplane flying over. I live near the Asheville Regional airport in the mountains of North Carolina so it is not unusual to see airplanes flying over. This plane was different. It was flying over Butt Mountain but this plane was more lit up than any of the other planes I had seen as well as being much bigger. It was oblong and saucer shaped and the white lights went around the perimeter of the aircraft.

There is a cell phone tower that sits on top of Butt Mountain and it has flashing red lights that are easily spotted. The aircraft flew towards the cell phone tower and then it just disappeared behind the mountain. The aircraft was very low to the ground and I was startled when it disappeared. I kept waiting to hear the crash or the explosion but it never came. The aircraft also never reappeared. I marked the spot where I was standing in the driveway so I could a better look at the spot I saw the aircraft in the morning.

I consider myself a rational person so I spent much of that night trying to rationalize what I had seen. I tried coming up with rational explanations but there weren't any that satisfied my rational mind. There are no roads up there so it could not have been headlights from a car. It was also not an airplane as it was too large and too low to the ground. It could not have been a smaller plane as I never heard the drone of an engine and it was too lit up.

I looked up UFO sightings in North Carolina and there have been many reported this year but not many in the western North Carolina mountains. One or two in Asheville over the past couple of month and a couple of more in Mills River but that was about it. The few sightings in the mountains I really can't explain either.

That Guy: College Advisor

I have been advising a friend of mine's son who just went away to college. He has been gone for about two weeks now, comes home every chance he gets, and has really not made any friends yet. My advice to him was to stay up there on the weekends, go to a few parties, go to a football game, and if things are still bad, go to a strip club. He will be surprised at how many friends he will have when he passes out a stack of singles and spends about an hour in the VIP room. Maybe I should set up a counseling booth like Lucy in the Peanuts comic strip.

What's In A Name?

I have picked up many names over the years, most are not really flattering, but what the hell, I suppose they are terms of endearment. Some of the better ones are Dino (and no not the purple dinosaur from the Flinstones), Big Daddy, Jackass, The Professor (my personal favorite), Gibby, and Mr. Slut (I really do not think that one will catch on). Some of the nicknames are obvious, some of them I have earned, and others I do not know what they are talking about. On the one hand I could say I made enough of an impression for the people to give me a term of endearment. On the other hand, I could say I have made a bad enough of an impression for them to give me a nickname. Either way, they remember who I am.

College: The Sleazy Frontier

A friend of mine at work took her son to college today and she does not understand the world of opportunities that lay in front of her son. She would not let me give him a pep talk before he left either. I am more than willing to be her son's mentor. I am sure my friend was going to shed quite a few tears when she left her son at the dorm on the campus and I told her that he should be knee deep in sorority girls at a keg party by the time she got home. There is a world full of sleazy opportunities that lay in front of him. The campus is full of strippers, future strippers, and girls that are just willing to get naked. My friend's son should be spanking more asses than a school teacher.

My friend is in denial about her son but I think it is important for any young man to get in touch with their inner sleaze. He needs to get all of the flooseys, tramps, and crazy women out of his system while he is still in college. He needs to wake up and not remember how he got there and wearing some girls 38 DDD bra on his head. That is where your real experiences from college come from. The classroom is just a small part of it. You have to learn how to handle booze, women, and your studies. That makes for a well rounded education.

Catching Up

One of my readers yesterday told me she had been catching up on "That Guy" which kind of surprised me because that guy has been kind of quiet this year. I just have not had that much material come my way. I asked my reader why she was reading it and she told me that she wanted to see if any of my blogs had been about her. She has definitely not given me any new material. That Guy has been trying to keep more of a low profile in recent months and quite honestly, it has been kind of boring. That Guy needs to get back in the field and see what is happening.

Life Imitating Art

I remember watching a Mel Brooks movie one time, High Anxiety, and there is one scene in the movie that quite often imitates my life. The scene is that Mel Brooks is sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper walking through a park in his suit and tie minding his own business and a pigeon flies over and shits on his right shoulder. He looks up like "what the hell..." and then another pigeon shits on him. He gets up and makes a break for it. Pigeons keep flying over and shitting on him. Pretty soon he is running through the park and these pigeons are chasing him and shitting on him. Mel Brooks sees a utility building and he seeks refuge in there. He is sitting on a bench inside the shelter and he starts cleaning himself off and then another pigeon shits on him. He looks up and the shelter he sought refuge in does not have a roof on it.

The moral of this story is that sometimes even when you think you have shelter, life still shits on you. Right now I have the King Kong of pigeons following me around.

My Life Is Like A Kayak

I was Talking to a friend of mine the other day and I was trying to think of an analogy that best described my life. I had been watching videos on YouTube of people kayaking the Narrows in Green River Cove earlier in the day and when I was talking to my friend, inspiration hit me. My life is like a kayak. I am drifting along in smooth waters and everything is going fine and then I hit the rapids. I navigate my way through some of the rapids and I am building up some momentum. Then a big rock in the middle of the river appears from out of nowhere and I get dumped on my head. I start taking in water trying to flip myself back over and then I have to start all over. That is what my life has been like over the past six years. My body and my psyche have taken a beating and right now I just want to get out of the river and put my boat up.

Off To College

I ran into a friend of mine from high school this morning when I made my Bojangle's run and his son was getting ready to head off to college. I still remember the day I headed off to college 32 years ago. The excitement of a new adventure was intoxicating. It was a combination of Revenge of the Nerds and Animal House but I managed to stumble my way through the first couple of months until I figured things out or at least I thought I had them figured out and I only woke up passed out on the front steps of the library once or twice.

I still remember when my parents dropped me off at my dorm. My Mom cried and I am pretty sure tht my father did a few victory laps around the parking lot, high fiving all of the other fathers, and I think he may have even done a victory dance before he burned rubber back to his house. Pops started dropping subtle hints when I was in high school when he bought me luggage and a footlocker when I was senior. I thought they came pre-packed with all of my stuff in them. Who knew that my father was the one that put all of my stuff in there?

Sometimes The Stripper Comes To You

I have pretty much put my "that guy" days behind me but every once in a while, circumstances dictate that I become "that guy" even if it is just for a few minutes. The other night that opportunity presented itself and I was forced to become "that guy" again. My job is to manage the dressing rooms at a retail store. I have to monitor who goes in and out and how many items of clothing the customers take in and out of the room. The town I live in has a lot of summer camps led by college age camp counselors. Many of those camp counselors are from foreign countries where the customs and rules are vastly different.

One night when we were busy a blond headed girl comes up to my desk wanting to try on an outfit. She was about 19 or 20 years old, attractive, and from her accent I was guessing she was eastern European. I told her that would be fine and I looked down to get the keys to the dressing rooms and when I looked back up, she was standing off to the side in front of my desk taking her top off. I was stunned. She got her top off and was standing there in her bra and she had a very nice rack on her. She reached down and started unbuttoning her pants. I just sat there with my mouth open not saying a word. One of the ladies I work with came around the corner before the girl could get her pants down and says "What are you doing?" The busty beauty replies "I am trying on this outfit." The woman I work with says "You need to do that in a dressing room. Where are you from?" The girl replies "I am from Poland. This is how we do it where I am from." The employee says "Well over here we require you to use a dressing room." The Polish girl looks at me and says as I am unlocking the door to one of the dressing rooms " I am sorry. I did not mean to get you in trouble." I finally spoke. "It's OK. You didn't know." I could feel myself starting to blush.

When I got back to my desk the female employee who "helped" me out asks me "Were you going to stop her?" My response came straight from the That Guy. I replied "I was going to stop her when I ran out of singles." If a hot girl wants to take off her clothes in front of me, who am I to deny her that right? Being from Poland, I think the girl needed a lesson in being free to express herself and experience American freedoms. I think that on this night "That Guy" may have reached super hero status. All I need is a cape.

A Rite Of Passage

I work with a lady whose daughter got married the other day. I am always looking for a reason to either throw a bachelor party or go to a bachelor party so I asked her if the groom (also known as the poor sap) had a bachelor party. The lady turned on me like a cat hissing when it is backed into a corner and said "No! And he is not going to, either." My response was naturally incredulous. Every man should have a bachelor party. It is a rite of passage.

Thomas Paine's The Rights of Man did not include as part of his treatise man's right to have a bachelor party but that is part of the rights of man. If a man is going to get married, the poor sap should go out kicking and screaming with a beer in one hand and a boob in the other. A bachelor party is a rite of passage for a man and I tried to tell the lady I work with this. By man law, an ex post facto bachelor party is required and mandatory within the first six months of marriage. I told the lady I work with that I would be glad to arrange something for the young man because I still know a few people but she politely declined my offer. I believe her exact words were "No! You stay away from him! He is not having a bachelor party!" It is bad enough that his wife is probably answering for him but now his mother-in-law is too. This man needs a bachelor party!

The Chalk Outline

I watched a lot of true crime television shows when I was on the mend after my foot surgery and I watched one last night when I got home from work for old time's sake. Someone was killed in this episode and they had drawn a chalk outline of where the body had fallen.

Seeing those chalk outlines made me think of Steve and all of the times he fell at the house. I would like to go around the property one day and draw chalk outlines of all of the places Steve face planted while he was sauced. There would be several in the driveway, a few at the cottage on the hill, a whole lot in the front yard, and several in the house. I would probably be drawing so many chalk outlines it would look like gang warfare had broken out here at the house. Steve could probably form his own gang but he would need to give it some catchy name. A few of the names I came up with are the Suitcase (of beer) Mafia, the Milwaukee's Best Ice Crew or MBIC, and the Budweiser Boys. They all have potential.

Steve's Cadillac

I was introduced to the Ferris Zero Turn riding lawnmower yesterday, better known around these parts as Steve's Cadillac. It is a nice machine and a top of the line commercial riding lawnmower. The manager of the property used to keep one on the grounds but Steve started using it as his personal ride. Why stagger around the ten acres of land when you can ride the mower a la George Jones of country music fame and the drinking Hall of Fame. Steve was also of the opinion that since it was a commercial lawnmower that it could mow over anything- landscaping timbers, chicken wire, garbage bags- it really didn't matter. If it was in his beer goggles and in his way, it was fair game. Alas they had to take Steve's Cadillac away from him so he started using my dog Molly a sled dog/guide dog and that didn't last long either.

Bob Seger Is Talking To Me

This has been a rough couple of days and I always seem to find the meaning of it all in music lyrics. This morning the music of Bob Seger was really speaking to me. The first song that came to mind was the song "Beautiful Loser" by Bob Seger. I heard the song last night on some TV show but it made me stop and think about what I am going through. The words that caught my attention were

"Beautiful loser
Where you gonna fall?
When you realize
You just can't have it all"

I believe that I am on the right track in my life. It has only taken me 50 years to get pointed in the right direction but I guess it is never too late. I guess sometimes you have to be stripped of everything you have in order to appreciate yourself. I am still standing. I may be naked but I am still standing. This to shall come to pass.

The second Bob Seger song that comes to mind is "Turn the Page."

"And you don't feel much like ridin',
You just wish the trip was through"

This trip is over and I was beginning to wish the trip was through. That is when you know that it needs to be over. All of the aggravation and the headaches became a real drain on me and my creativity. Believe me, I need to harness every bit of creativity that I can. When I finally get pointed in the right direction, I do not need anyone else knocking me off the tracks whether they intend to or not. At this stage in my life, I have discovered everyone has baggage, no matter how big or small, but it is how they deal with that baggage that is important. I cannot let someone else's baggage weigh me down.

A Broken Toy

I have come to believe that I am a broken toy. I am here for the amusement of others and it is getting harder and harder to amuse myself. As soon as I break down, they are through playing with me. I take it out on people who do not deserve it but people that are supposed to be in my inner circle lie to me constantly, try to bend me to their will, and get whatever it is they want. There are times when I would love to stay drunk or stoned or loaded on pills but I will not allow myself to use those crutches to deal with my problems. It gets very frustrated and the more I get frustrated, the shorter tempered I get. Nobody wants to understand my issues especially if my issues are with them. How could those in my corner be a problem? My rant is over and the brief period of feeling sorry for myself is over, at least temporarily.

Life Through the Living Room Window

I try to approach life with a sense of humor and I often find my wisdom is comedy, comic strips, and if I want to get philosophical, I turn to music. The other day I saw a Calvin & Hobbes comic strip that described what I have been going through perfectly. Calvin and Hobbes were sitting on a hillside having a philosophical discussion. Hobbes asked Calvin if he believed in God. Calvin answered an emphatic "Yes! Somebody is out to get me."

I have sat here and watched life from my living room window for the past six months. It is like watching 3-D television with no commercials. It has it all. It has nature shows- the squirrels and birds running around playing with each other; it has drama- the neighbors threatening to sue because their driveway is washing out and they are trying to figure out how to blame me; it has comedy- the three stooges that work construction on the property that can turn a lunch hour into a three hour event and building something that should take a day into a week long project; science- the construction crew used divining rods to find a mud puddle right in front of them; and it has sexy- my fifty something year old neighbor mowing her lawn buck ass naked. That episode had me wanting to stab my eyes out and swear off nudity and porn forever.

I have started back to work now and maybe that will help break up the humorous rut I find myself in. Maybe life will quit using me as a human target now that I am back to being a "productive" citizen again. I am going to miss watching life's TV through my living room window.

The Redneck Science Project

I was talking to the "construction crew" (I use the term very loosely. It is more like the "isn't it time for break" crew) yesterday afternoon and they were trying to find where the water lines were buried on the property. I half jokingly asked if they were ready to break out the "divining rods." The reply was "I could probably witch some up." All I had to do was plant the seed of an idea and redneck curiosity took over. After the crew took a 2 1/2 hour lunch, I happened to look out my living room window and there all three of them are standing in the driveway with homemade divining rods trying to find the water lines. Every time they thought the diving rods had located the water lines, they would scratch out a big "X" with their foot, and laugh a maniacal laugh like they had just brought Frankenstein to life. "X" doesn't necessarily mark the spot when it comes to the "water whisperers", so I am probably going to end up with a yard full of big holes and no water. They did manage to find the mud puddle located right in front of them. Bill Nye the Science Guy and Larry the Cable Guy would be proud of them.

Bad Dreams

Last night was a rough night. I had bad dreams all night long, I didn't turn the heat on, my girlfriend kept stealing the covers, and I stayed cold all night long. Being scared, cold, and pissed is not conducive to a good sleeping environment.

One of the bad dreams I had involved me getting fired from my job and losing my home on the same day. I am getting ready to return to work and I am having issues at my house (I am temporarily displaced now) so any first year psychology student could figure that one out.

The second dream may have been the scariest one of them all. I dreamed I got a girl pregnant. Being 50 years old, that one scared the hell out of me. I do not have any children of my own and the prospect of changing diapers at my age does not interest me at all. I would be 68 by the time the kid got out of high school. Talk about your generation gaps, damn, that would be one. How would I throw the baseball/softball around with him/her when I have bad knees, a blown out rotator cuff, and my feet are so bad I can barely stand up.

Unfinished Business

I have worked in several locations (with the same company) over the years and every once in a great while, I will go back to visit and see if there is anyone left from when I worked there. I get such a feeling of melancholy when I go back to one of my old locations. As soon as I pull into the parking lot, this bad feeling comes over me like one of impending doom. It is like a dark cloud is following me around when I walk into this store. No one that works here is happy and filters down to every aspect of the business-the customers, the vendors, and the employees. I still make the rare attempt to rescue my friends that are still there but I agree with Friedrich Nietzsche when he said "Sometimes when you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back into you."

One store I worked at near Charlotte, NC, now those guys were my crew. I would go to work in the mornings and half of them would be passed out in their cars from a night out of drinking and I would have to go car to car and wake them up so they could clock in and go to work. We made going to one of the local strip clubs a regular Friday night event so we could blow off some steam. I liked to believe that an event like that was "team building." The company I worked for just thought we were being sleazy and enacted a plan to get rid of all of us. The company eventually did manage to get rid of all of us but we still had a hell of a time before they did. I really miss those guys.

Falling Down

I try to approach everything I do or that happens in my life with a sense of humor. Sometimes it takes me a while to find the funny in things but I usually get there. This post is a tongue in cheek look at everything that has been going on in my life for the past couple of months and any of the possible responses I could make.

Things have not gone well for me the past couple of months. It seems that everyone that has had the opportunity to take a shot at me has. It doesn't matter who they were- big corporations, my place of employment, doctors, and even a few of my friends- have all had me in their crosshairs. I was sitting here this afternoon after receiving the latest punch to the nads and I thought of the movie Falling Down with Michael Douglas.

The story line is that he plays a common working man, wears a tie, carries a briefcase, he has been laid off from his job and he has finally had enough. He has had one bad break too many. My favorite scene had to be where he goes into the fast food restaurant to get something to eat. All he wants is breakfast and he is three minutes too late (that is the story of my life). His reaction is one that a lot of us would like to have. He pulls out the submachine gun and demands his breakfast. That is not too much to ask. I have noticed that a lot of these fast food places now serve breakfast all day. I went into Bojangle's about 11 AM and they did not have grits. I should have demanded my grits. I wanted my grits.

I am not a violent person and I could never rise to the level of violence in Falling Down. I probably fantasize about being able to stand up for myself like Michael Douglas's character more than I should and after reading this, I am sure most experts would say that I am a psychotic break away from making it happen. No, that will not be me so I guess I will just have to sit back and hope that "karmatic" justice happens soon (and I just made karmatic a word).

Why I Write

I write for the sake of writing. I will admit that I do get a charge out of someone reading (or at least I think they are reading) my blogs, my posts, or anything else for that matter. I remember reading in Stephen King's book On Writing that he said something to the effect of he writes because he enjoys it and he would still be doing it even if he wasn't making any money doing it. Not many people read what I write but that is alright. My writing about the Seattle Seahawks, the Los Angeles Dodgers, or my dog Molly is not changing lives.

A very small percentage of writers make it big or even published. I decided to use the social media to try to expand my audience. I post my blogs on Twitter nut I also interact with other people on Twitter and I try to make sure it is a positive experience, at least as far as I am concerned. I have gotten some nice comments even if only 20 people are reading my posts.

The other night the unthinkable happened and I got "trolled." I may not know who actually did it but I know who put them up to it. When I found this out I immediately went into self preservation mode and I protected all of my tweets. I also noticed an immediate and drastic drop in readers of my blogs. That really bothered me because by protecting my tweets, the troll was able to dictate what I was doing and how I went about doing it. I decided I am not going to allow that to happen. I write because I enjoy it. If the troll and her handler cannot handle their jealous impulses, I will take care of that when that time comes.

Working With Steve

I have to make my inglorious return to work in a couple of weeks. That has the makings of an outstanding adventure. I have been out of work for about six months now and while I have been gone, Steve AKA Drunkenstein, has started working for the organization that I work for. He got the job with no assistance from me so I applaud him for that. I do not think I am going to be working directly with Steve when I go back to work but it should be interesting nonetheless. I keep seeing an image of Otis Campbell of the fictional town of Mayberry getting a job. Steve keeps turning up in my life like a bad penny.

Steve has kept in touch, mostly through drunken text messages, since he moved out ten months ago. I can always tell when he has gotten a snootful. The text messages make no sense at all and all of the words are badly misspelled. It makes me laugh but I try not to get into too many extended text conversations with him.

A Plan

Most people have a plan. It might be a plan to buy a house, a car, to get married, or something on a much smaller scale. Apparently my plan has always been flying by the seat of my pants. I looked up the origins of that phrase and it is an old aviator's phrase that means to fly without the use of instruments and to use your instincts and judgement. The only judgment I have ever exercised is bad judgement and the only instrument I have ever used was an ATM and that was when I ran out of single's. Therefore I would have to say that flying by the seat of my pants is not working for me any more. I have had 3 1/2 months to come up with a plan and yet I have nothing.

I do have an update on my "plan." I have started doing some writing for a friend of mine's website but that is something different and I am hoping it will develop into something more. It is not even writing porn. I am writing some history based content so maybe almost 30 years later< I can put my history degree to good use.

Healthy Living

I have never been the poster child for healthy living. I had always been able to eat what I want to and whenever I wanted to eat it and really not suffer because of it. Now I suffer. A lot. Turning 50 seemed to be a big benchmark for me. I started a vitamin regimen, I started looking at my overall health, and I decided to start making some changes. It is nothing drastic. My feet are not well enough to take up jogging or anything like that. I saw where some people I know ran a 5k the other day. I used to jog a mile a day when I was in college but that was about the extent of my running career. If they were to put a Hooter's or a strip club near the finish line of the 5k, I would probably enter all of them. Everyone needs their motivation.

Cabin Fever

I have got a bad case of cabin fever. Not bad enough for me to appear in a sequel of The Shining but it is still pretty intense. I think my dog Molly even started talking back to me today. Outside of my phone, I have not had human contact of the face-to-face nature in five days. I can understand some of what Jack Torrance went through in The Shining. The similarities are scarily similar. I am also an aspiring writer and very snowed in. I do not have a nutty ass kid running around seeing ghosts behind every corner but I guess that is where Molly comes in.

I am even looking forward to going to Wal-Mart as soon as I can get out of my driveway. I prepared for the snowstorm. I have plenty of food and drinks (I also have water although I just ran out of wine), I have enough reading material and DVDs to watch to last me to the spring thaw so I should be set. I have always prided myself on my ability to be a hermit but I guess the lesson to be learned here is that maybe human contact is essential but only on my own terms. Maybe I should invite people over and then kick them out whenever I want them to go.

At The Movies

I was channel surfing early (real early) a few weeks ago and I came upon a "documentary" entitled Caddyshack: The Inside Story, a behind the scenes look at the 1980 movie classic Caddy Shack. It detailed all of the hard partying, drinking, and drugs that went on behind the scenes once the cameras were turned off. A large part of the behind the scenes look was actress Cindy Morgan's nude scene that was one of the most memorable scene's in the movie, at least to a 14 year old that puberty was kicking in the ass.

I have seen Caddyshack more than I have any other movie (believe it or not, it was not because of the nude scene but because it was a funny movie) with the exception of the movie Animal House (that was the movie that inspired me to go to college) and once again, it was not because of the sorority girl topless pillow fight but because it was a funny movie and as I said, it was very inspirational to a young man in the middle of middle school.

As part of this documentary on Caddyshack, the contention was that many actresses had used topless scenes to get a start to their careers. Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High immediately came to mind. Songs were dedicated to Cates' scene in that movie (Fenix TX wrote the song "Phoebe Cates" about her but it was because of her scene in that movie).

The Anatomy Of A Day Wasted

I have been out of work since last November because of extensive surgery on my right foot. Whenever I go out like this I always have these grand plans of all of the things I am going to get accomplished. About a month ago, I was on fire and getting some things done. I was doing a lot of writing and I even started writing my great American novel. Right around Christmas, I hit one of those roadblocks you just kind of bounce off of and you can't seem to get it back together. My days have devolved into watching reruns of MacGyver, NCIS, Castle, and any other show that I used to watch and trolling on Twitter for a large portion of the day. I have managed to do a little bit of reading but mostly fiction and nothing of any redeeming value unless I plan on going out and killing terrorists.

I am getting a bad case of cabin fever and I find myself slipping into a bad depression. I do not know how to break that cycle. At least Steve had alcohol as an "excuse" for wasting his days but I do not even have that. All I can blame is my "devolution" and even that is not looking so good right now.

Steve Discovers The Social Media

Before Steve left my house for other pursuits, I helped him set up a Facebook page. It seemed relatively harmless at the time but it is too bad that I could not put a warning label on his page. It would have to say something about the dangers of alcoholics and not to get them near open flame and they might be dangerous to your health and things like that. Steve stayed relatively calm until Facebook until here recently when he discovered that you could actually meet women this way. I did not have the heart to tell him that half of these women probably do not exist. He always had a tendency to see things through beer goggles anyway so I hope that finding love on Facebook thing works out for him.

Road Trippin' With Steve Revisited

I had posted a blog about three months ago about a road trip that Steve took with our friend Oliver back a couple of years ago in an attempt to dry Steve out. I had a chance to sit down with Oliver over the Thanksgiving holidays and talk with him some more about the road trip he took with Steve. I asked Oliver if he had read my blog about his road trip with Steve. He told me he had but he couldn't finish reading it because it brought back too many bad memories of a weekend he was never getting back. Oliver said when he read my blog, he got pissed at Steve all over again.

Oliver was also able to add some more details to the story. He said that not only had Steve drank 32 beers before he ever got to Steve's house to pick him up, he tried taking a cooler full of beer with him. Oliver quickly pointed out that the whole point of this trip was to help Steve sober up, not so Steve could turn it into a beer festival on wheels. Steve's reply was typical Steve logic. He thought the clock did not start ticking on sobriety until they actually arrived at their destination. Oliver said they left for Memphis with a cooler full of beer sitting in Steve's driveway. Oliver said that Steve was well fueled for the trip anyway and really did not need any extra help.

Oliver should be nominated for sainthood because Steve really got on my nerves just sitting around the house and I cannot imagine spending an entire weekend with him either shut up in a car or in a hotel room. I can only imagine how annoying Steve was when he started craving a beer.