Greetings Me Droogs and Droogettes!
Man, whatta day! Roller coaster-ish like a motherfucker. My thanks for those who commented support, a Fuck You to the pricks and trolls. Past 24 hours have been flat out. Law of Mother is a reaaaaaally nice old broad, but man… she’s a bit offa her game. Couple o’nuggets shy da full 10 piece if’n yer feeling me. Two really bad head hits in a short-short…
Yeah, that’s what’s left of the car… A perfect T-Bone hit on the drivers side…
Right before the accident Mom a week or two before had a “I’ve fallen and can’t get up” moment. Hit her head, busted a lot of bones in her face. And a concussion that she was just shaking off when this happened.
Then, they got in the wreck, and Dad, unfortunately got turned into a 180 pound cannon ball and smashed Mom like a grape. In the Grape again and ribs… she’s alllllll fucked up.
You can see the bloodstains on the seatbelt and the LACK of airbag action… only ONE fucking bag blew… which didn’t help things… waiting on some lawyers to tell us the next part, but Mom came home, and I spent the night, and this A.M. (after Poast #1) doing the install of the LifeAlert equipment and the subsequent testing.
THAT purely sucked. Not the testing but to get a 78 year old “Strong Independent Woman” (in her mind only mind you) to wear the pendant-alert thingy. “Those are for Old People!!!” she cried, rather pointedly…
“Ma… wear the thing, ok?
“No… those are for old people!”
“Ma, I’m 51…”
“I’m eligible to join the AARP. That makes me “Officially an “Old Fucker” which, seeing’s yer my wife’s Ma, that makes you so old, you fart dust.”
(Ya gotta be a prick sometimes)
“<Deep Sigh> Don’t tell anyone what this is then, OK?”
“You got it Ma.”
Yep… sometimes ya gotta beat ’em with a clue-bat. I love her tho, compared to my Ex-Demon-in-Laws I’d take a bullet for her AND Dad. Dad’s also a vet. Former Squid, to which I give him no end of shit when it’s him, me and his Buddy (his version of Sapper) who he golfs with. One day Wifey came in in the middle of a particularly salty story with Dad and his bro and she was fuckin’ horrified.
We laughed our collective veteran balls off of course.
I also tried installing, and ended up ordering a wheelchair ramp for the front door on Bezos-zon. The old one Dad told me about in the garage was a piece of broken plywood that’s seen better days…
So yeah, the die is cast, and life goes on. I’ma gonna just keep rolling until the “New Intolerable Acts” come along… for the OG Patriots, it was a stamp and tea tax… for us?
Seeings no one shot/hung or killed any of the vote counters OR election officials in Pennsylvania, I’d say it’ll be gun control.
Those rabid fuckers can’t help theyselves Aye?
They’re needing to remove the weapons from our hands, ’cause without ’em, the One World Weirdness and bullshit will never fly… And trust me, I’d say a motivated person should look to whacking Beto now rather than later, as Grandpa Rapeyfinger said he’d use his wannabe Irish Burrito-Orc ass as point-man on gun collectiveness.
Just remember Beano, the point man usually get shot first when the ambush is initiated.
Which now brings me to the next phase of “The Intrepid Reporter” Bloggage. I’m going to start with a transition like I did earlier on tactics and weapons at least once a week, headspace and timing allowed for… being an un-medicated Bi-Polar PTSD Lunatic with disassociated sociopathic tendencies is a trial sometimes, let me tell ya…. ask my shrink about it… Ima gonna keep on keepin’ on as Joe Dirt would say… told Wifey tho that they’re eventually gonna come for me. I –know– for fact that I’m on the ‘liquidate’ list somewhere… being a trained terrorist (back when the OPFOR Academy still meant something) as well as alllllllllllllll the other ‘dirty deeds done not-so-dirt cheap that y’all have read about over the years… guys like me are dangerous in that we’re well versed in shit.
And I intend on passing that shit on…
Through either stories or straight instruction, though stories usually have been sticking power.. we shall see…
So until Later, quit yer weeping and git ta drinkin’… I know I’m doing it
I Remain The Intrepid Reporter