RDCanecutter

Dunno if it's plastic modeling, but my mind snapped and I cleaned out the local hobby shop of all their 1/72 Civil War soldiers. Currently gluing them onto pennies. Maybe try the out with a good beer-n-pretzels rule set like The Sword and The Flame. Or have them fight dinosaurs and Martians.

It's a trick. You're supposed to delegate some of that.

We're not talking about some guy who built the railroads, Walter.

I assume you're writing this with a stool super-shart-glued to your ass?

It wasn't really a shart last night at 3:30 am. More like I auto-piloted to the toilet, and regained consciousness to see that someone had hired a toothless Aggy to gum on several pounds of those Brach's sort-of-caramel chewy candies and spit them into the toilet bowl until, like an Icelandic volcano, they added new dry land to our world. Two flushes still left chunks. Crawled back up stairs like an evolving tetrapod, and lay there for about two minutes trying to will that new pressure into being a mere fart. At the last moment made it back to bathroom and blew out a normal shit. Today at work I fortified myself with fiber and strong coffee. Felt some pressure but figured I could handle 15 minutes on Interstate. BWAHAHAHAHA Wasn't even time to pull off to a gas station. The Shart hit hard and it hit fast, like my dog pouncing on and shaking a stuffed toy. I had two jobs: Shit, and Stay in my lane. I did both. The remaining miles, and incredible number of contractions, gave me time to plan my reentry into human society. I wheeled into the drive, and Lovely Wife and Adoring Puppy came out the side door to greet me. I was "Everybody Back Inside, Unlock the Back Door, and Lay Low." She knew what was up. Peeled off shoes and new socks before the ooze could creep down to them, rolled up legs of jeans really tight, wrapped up in barely damp seat-towel (I ain't no rookie) and staggered in through the back deck. Achievement Unlocked of toe-stepping drip-free into the spare shower. Lovely Wife tossed empty bucket into the shower behind me, whence I shed unbeshittened garments to safety whilst peeling off jeans and boxers into the rapidly filling bucket, having first slid my arms up to the shoulder inside the chunky jeans to turn them inside-out. While I was doing all that, I was still shitting. Just kept directing the shower head at whatever fresh hell shot out my ass. That was about an hour ago. I am clean and dry now, but still sitting on the toilet, waiting.

Ta bien. ¿Qué hacemos jefe?

One good side effect of that would be no longer having to hear somebody say "I work at a NON-PROFIT..." trailing off to imply "I'm not a money-grubber like you. I have ideals."

Congrats on livin right! I am not gloom n doom, 1/10 worried about a slip in health, 9/10 just lookin for an excuse to go to Mexico.

Keytruda appears to be trying to put an -itis on my kidney, so we are pausing it and trying some stuff. I am back on the Lenvima though, so not completely unprotected. My bodily numbers have got the wobbles but not all the way haywire. My Cartoonishly Swollen Feet are down thanks to a diuretic and hellaspensive German compression socks. They are giving me a steroid for something else so I am faux-diabetic again at least for this weekend. Doc wants me doing more exercise, maybe Yoga. I see it as an excuse to get back up with my old Wing Chun Kung Fu group, which is kinda Yoga-y. I also need to hit some weights because I scrawned out during a past weight decline. It is coming back, but I hope not blobularly. I want to get a trip into Mexico to search for old books, Baja Hoodies, and other rarities. December is chock-full of shows, and since October they started being G.O.O.D. shows, so can't miss em. But Jan-Feb tend towards bleakness and living-off-the-credit-card anyway. That might be a good time. Currently thinking about flying into Mexico City, stay at small hotel I know near the Zócalo, search books nearby and/or go tour Estudios Churubusco south of town. Then maybe Spanish my way into storing heavy stuff at hotel pending my eventual return, and take off by bus towards Teotihuacan, Tlaxcala (Baja Hoodie Factories), Veracruz (reminds me of our favorite Chanoc movie contra el tigre y el vampiro) then back up via local buses so as to replicate the old passenger train route. I figure keep it less than 3,000 bucks for 10 days or so given my propensity for taco stands, clean $15 dollar hotels, and slow bus travel. Get that all done and they can't take it from me if 2025 brings some random-slam to the old bod.

At least the kids are exercising, not just staring at their phones.

ROFL BOX was the first guy on here to be nice to me after some other fucker threw a neg fit. Get well ROFL BOX.

Years ago I bought some Harley stock. It had nothing to do with motorcycle sales, it was after my step-sister asked me to buy her a "Laredo" Harley shirt when I was making a run down there. She collected them from various towns. That scrap of cloth was 60+ bucks. And all the other little pirate doodads are the same. That's what I bought in on. Religious cult clothing.

Far as I know, we got lucky. I do wonder about that one kid from the next street over that I clocked in the head with a potato-sized rock. He was probably young enough that other parts of the brain took over for any damaged areas. I know mine did.

He's a lil outlaw ain't he...

Bumped into a 1968 25 pesos Olympics coin today. Not perfect but still good-lookin. Just a smidge more than 1/2 oz asw at 16.2 grams silver. One of the nicer looking snake n eagles. "Independencia y libertad" struck on the rim, fakes usually have a plain milled edge like a US Quarter or dime. In 1968 the exchange rate was 12.5 pesos to a dollar, so this coin would have been $2 bucks US then, or about $20 now.

On my street we "big kids" would hijack the little kids' Big Wheels, and while we couldn't sit in them, we could stand on the back, get some speed going, then KICK the Big Wheel at its target, usually another kid on a bike. When we weren't back in a vine-choked mass of brambles, cutting tunnels with machetes. The tunnels were part of a "fort" system that we would test by convincing the little kids to get inside, then we'd shower the area with railroad track rocks.

YARD SALE!

Latinx = "I took a year of Spanish and now I am going to fix your culture."

What he said. Maybe stick an accent in tenían so we don't look too chunti. But my main question is why are Springfield Haitians speaking Spanish?

... and we've almost got enough.

Hell him and the hogs banded together against the Pit People, why'd you think I had him out there in the first place?

So who was he in there skinning?

When I was 5 I would walk "alone" a couple of blocks to Kindergarten, while my mom stayed in our yard and confirmed that I was stopping and looking both ways at streets. They were very un-busy streets but good training. Elementary school I either walked or rode bike about 2/10s of a mile, cop at crossing, no big whoop. By age 9 for sure I was walking alone to Mr. Griffin's store, about 1/2 mile away by road, but I'd cut that in half by ducking down the railroad tracks. Savagery.

I figured once my boy was strong enough to break the chain keeping him in the pit out back, then there weren't no harm in him wanderin because he was likely the meanest cuss in the neighborhood.