Fuckers,

    I’ve swindled my way into a few publications recently.  It’s been fun.  For some, I’ve had to chew my limbs off and wriggle through tight spaces.  For others, I was able to survive with slight alterations.  I wrote one with my left hand.  That’s my polite hand.  It doesn’t say “fuck,” or flip people off.  It’s a gentleman and maybe a Mormon.  I will get more published in the near future.  That’s the plan.  Even if I have to put a magic marker between my cheeks and write that way.

    I’d share the article with all of you, but you don’t deserve the punishment.  They’re articles that landed in local newsprint.  You don’t look like a bunch that wakes up in the morning to enjoy a cup of coffee and breeze through the periodicals.  I’ll keep those to myself.  There will be better ones to come.  If they pass my “who gives a fuck” test, I’ll put them on my refrigerator and invite you all over to look at them.  But don’t count on it.

    I’m also completing another tour around the sun in a few days.  It isn’t, by any means, a sign of success to stay alive for another calendar year, but it gives a decent time frame to reflect on.  This year has been full of movement.  Good movement and questionable movement.  Valuable mistakes and priceless experience.  Accumulating more good stories.  I suppose that’s a good thing.  Even if they didn’t end in what would be traditionally deemed success.

    I’ve got some new seasons coming.  A real winter with snow and shivering and chains on the tires — should add some flavor.  I plan on dominating some snowball wars.  The kids on my block have no clue what they’re in for.

    I also don’t plan on ever growing up.  So if that’s what you’re waiting for — hold your breath, dummies.  I’ll put up another post sometime this week.  Maybe half-dozens of people will read it.  Or maybe not.

    Just letting you assholes know, vaguely, what’s going on.  If you have questions, the door is always locked, but feel free to slip a note into the slot.

    Bye now.