A Day In The Lifeless

It’s cold in Salt Lake City during the last vestiges of winter in March…Image

They woke us all up at 5 am each morning at the homeless shelter.

This morning is ‘cold breakfast’ morning.

Cold breakfast is pretty self explanatory, but in a homeless shelter it’s a whole different animal.

Homeless shelters depend on donations.

Donations depend on charity.

Charity depends on people.

People are…..not to be counted on sometimes.

This particular morning we are getting Special K cereal™, Borden’s Powdered Milk™, doughnuts of different types, bananas and coffee.

The cereal box is 2 years old.

The Borden’s ‘Dry’ Milk is water thin and warm.

The doughnuts are stale, hard and tasteless.

The bananas are over-ripe and the coffee is as thin as the milk, but cooler than the milk…

We get one serving of each…..


Most of the people in here are men. There are a couple of women, but they seem to be matched with some of the guys.

Except for Trish….

She argues with herself over trivial matters.

This morning it sounds like she is not happy with one of her “selves” and is berating and cussing “them” about losing her toothpaste.

She stands up, flailing at invisible people, and runs straight into the opposite wall, knocking herself out.

She lays sprawled out on the floor with her hospital wrist band, from her release 2 days ago, still on her wrist.

The library card hanging on a piece of ribbon around her neck looks strange next to stained bandages around her throat from where she went after herself with a curling iron that had been dropped off at the shelters Donation store.

“I’m glad I’m not crazy….” I think to myself.

We are all walking different directions to begin our day as the ambulance pulls up to the shelter.

No lights….No siren.

“It’s only Trish….again” says the cop.

“Maybe she’ll do us all a favor and die this time” laughs the guy paramedic.

“They should have never let her out to walk the streets, where’s she gonna go!?” says the girl cop.

“She comes here” said Mr. Larry, the shelter director and “20 year sober drunk” he’d say with a grin and a cutting gesture across his throat.

We are turned out from the shelter at 6 am on the dot.

It is dark and cold…There is no traffic and the buses don’t begin the route by the shelter until 7 am.

We walk the 1 1/2 miles just for something to do, plus not freeze to death.

The daily evicted walk down the sidewalks, through the vacant lots full of trash and weeds, under the fence surrounding the Union Pacific rail yard and some are lucky enough to have money or a free token from the churches for a bus to SLCity.

I guess that’s a polite way to say “We want your soul to be saved, but don’t come back until after dark”

I take the bus.

I am a college student in my early 40’s.

I am a highly functioning alcoholic.

I’m going to beat it this time, but first I have to be at the plasma center before 8 am so I can get in and out early and get my “Special Starbucks” before the shaking and panic starts so I can concentrate in class.

We say “But first….” a lot.

Some men head for the railroad yard to catch a ride….somewhere.

“Anywhere but here” they’d say.

They’ve probably been saying that for years, and every where they’ve ever been.

“I don’t want to be…..” is a better way to say it.

“I can’t stay here”

We don’t know why….

We just can’t stay here…..or there.

We have to get away….from something…..Everything.

There are rules for shelter admission at 6 pm Monday-Thursday  and 5 pm on weekends.

1)      No drinking of alcohol

We are all given breathalyzers as we sign in.

No one has alcohol on their breath except a few new people that also have grass in their hair and smell like cow shit and urine.

But they don’t frisk the “regulars”Image

The one’s they know they can trust….

I usually had a ½”diameter, 12ft piece of surgical tube that I stole from the Biology lab where I worked in the college, wrapped around my waist under my shirt.

It is full of Vodka or another clear libation, if I have to have something cheap between student/employee paydays and the 3 Plasma donation visits I’m allowed every other week…

After we all pass the breath test, we poor beggars head to the chapel and wait for the preacher of the day to show up.

We have to do this every night in order to get dinner, a shower and breakfast.

It lasts for an hour.

It could be considered torture and inhumane treatment at times.

My favorite ‘preacher’ was a 14 year old boy that came along with his preacher dad to save our “treacherous, ungodly souls!” “Can I get an AMEN!!!?”


When the boy is through skipping across the pulpit, throwing himself to the ground, jumping up and down and waving his arms so hard I think he’s gonna pop a joint out of place, I feel really glad that I’m not a Jew, a Mormon, a “damned rag head Muslim”, a Fag or a Queer.


We all feel better now that we have all been brought to Jesus by an alternate route for the 3rd time this week as we head to the lunchroom.

There is no talking.

There is only a shuffling, clinking, sliding plastic tray sound followed by a rhythmic “glopping” noise.

ImageMost nights it is a ‘stew’ or ‘goulash’ of some type, a piece of bread and a vegetable to be named later.

The ‘stew’ is heavy on the carrots and potatoes with little eyes looking at you…

There’s also a kind of shiny petroleum broth film covering it, undoubtedly from the ‘cooks’ not knowing that they should drain the oil from the cans of Spam™ before they add the ‘meat’ to our fare.

The Kool-Aid™ or drink mix is always thin and has a slight chlorinated after-taste, but it’s cool to the throat.  

We did’t need ice….or sugar.

Beggars CAN be choosy after all.

Don’t bitch Trey….   Jeez, some people would complain about getting hung with an old rope!

But…Most of us think it is the best thing we have ever had to eat.

We’re just glad that we don’t have to dig through the Pizza Hut™ and Albertsons™ dumpsters tonight….
I was always grateful for the shelter.

You see….I know it could be worse.

Did you know that restaurants, convenience stores and fast food joints won’t or should I say, can’t donate left-over foods to shelters?

It’s because they’re afraid to get sued if some poor homeless schmuck gets sick.

Sadly they were probably right, the fact is that someone would have tried to sue them most likely.

Desperate people and all that jazz….

The showers were full of…..men?

It was full of the old and young, wrinkled and pale, bent and straight…..But all broken in one way or another.

The shower was full of tattoos and scars from the Korean War, Vietnam and Desert Storm.

No one spoke in the shower.

All you could hear was the water and men coughing under the Luke-warm spray.

I didn’t take showers at the shelter.

I took showers at the college gym.Image

I didn’t have to sleep in dumpsters anymore or build a snow cave in the city park.

I had gotten my student loan somehow.

I honestly can’t remember NOW, how I even did that then.

I kept what little clothes I had in a locker at the gym.

I could fit everything I owned in a back-pack….

I washed clothes in the Biology lab “scrubs” room.

I worked as a lab tech prepping slides and cultures for the Biology department.

I worked as a Lab tech in the Computer Science labImage

I worked as an assistant instructor with gifted students and I was a tutor in calculus and statistics.

Now I can’t remember shit…..

But that night, like so many nights after and before, I lay in the dark, on my back in a quietly buzzing homeless dorm on the top bunk and feeling my hands start to tremble as I unfurl the tubing full of Vodka from around my body.

The tube held a pint of Vodka.

As I placed my lips around the end of the tube and feel the welcome first sip hit my throat and gut, I am thinking:

“I’m gonna beat it this time. Only 3 more months and I’ll have enough saved up to get a real job and an apartment”

In less than a week, I was found drunk and unconscious in the park of my college…..In the snow.

I could have died then….

I spent 28 days in Rehab….Wearing blue footies.

I got a DUI the day I got out of Rehab.

I spent a week in jail then got arrested that SAME night for public intoxication and disturbing the peace after I called the cops on myself and begged them to shoot me.

I begged for death in an alley behind a bar….Image

My forearms and knees were in piss, vomit, syringes, used condoms and stale beer.

My hands were tugging at their pants legs….”Please….please…..stop me….”

And Jesus wept….So did I.

I lost my college loans and my student jobs.

My kids were not happy. Dad was still fucking up.

When I was released from my court ordered 72 hour detox session at the mental health ward, I remember asking a fellow shelter buddy on the bus back “home”:

“Is tomorrow hot breakfast day?”

I’m amazed I’m still alive.

I’m thankful that those 2 cops didn’t help me out, back in that alley.

Sometimes I curse them…..

But I know one thing for sure….


I could have died…..and not known it.

You see…?

Heaven has a special place for alcoholics….

It’s called “Hell on earth”

The good part is that we can leave anytime we want to….

We want to be anywhere but here…..

But it’s just so far away.

….. Just asking


When I die, will the earth keep turning?

Why do they say “Life goes on” after someone dies?

If the world truly loved me it would waste away after I die…

If I really made a difference on this earth, why couldn’t I live forever and do more?

If I’m truly insignificant, then why am I capable of  procreation, art, love…. And destruction?

If each tomorrow is a new day, then why is it hard for me to change ?

If life is about choices why are there so many wrong ones and only one right choice?

Yes, there are options but knowing the difference between  what smells like dog shit, tastes like dog shit, or Is dog shit takes experience and effort.

Then why do we always want to test a boiling pot…?

If had an employee that represented my life, I would fire them.

There are several answers to any question….

No there’s not.

Think about it.

What kind of answer is “yes AND no”?

If there are subtle differences why are they so easy to recognize?

If we can be taught, then why do we never learn?

If we learn from the past, why do we forget the lessons?

Future – 1 = Past

If we can remember what a certain flower smells like all of our life and a certain song, then why can’t I remember all the sunshine?

Why can we describe the ugly in much more detail than the beautiful?

Because there are no words for true beauty… Only wind and music.

You are beautiful…

We are beautiful…

I..Am beautiful…

Can you whistle?


Whistle a little tune today and know that you are beauty.

You… Are wind and music…

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How do you start your day?
How do you feel about your life?








“When I hear someone sigh, ‘Life is hard’ I am always tempted to ask ‘Compared to what? ”
– Sidney J Harris

I say,” When in doubt, fight your way out”


Have a great day and….

“Stay thirsty my friends”

Hmm… That’s kinda weird for an alcoholic  to say.

But, you know what I mean.

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy



Isn’t it easy to forget that some people can’t….

Turn over in bed

Touch their own nose

Scratch their knee

Fall down and get up on their own

Reach up high for grandma’s jelly

See a butterfly

See children play

Hear children play

Think they can hear a butterfly play

But most of us can….

Close our eyes and know what blue looks like

Hear a faucet drip….

Play Pin the Tail on the Donkey, then take off the blindfold….

Play hide and seek and be glad when we find someone that was in the dark and lost

Speak to a stranger no stranger than us

Leave the house, by ourself.

But we also….

Bitch about having to go to work

Bitch about the long line to cash your paycheck

Bitch about having only one car

Bitch about no hot water

Bitch about “I don’t like tomato soup”

Long line at the grocery store, and there’s no honey mustard pistachios….

The Wheelchair ramp is in the way

Vets are volunteers, they knew what they were getting into….

No one knows war, War is hell.

Have you ever met anyone that has returned from hell unscathed?

Why should they demand more?

Bitch about having to vote

Bitch about school prayer

Bitch about the Pledge of Allegiance

Bitch about  the Ten Commandments

Bitch about jury duty

Bitch about no Wi-Fi

But you can….

Feel the sun on your face

Feel a cool pillow under your head

Use the bathroom without help

Swim in the ocean

Take medicine when YOU want to..

Climb a tree

See lots of tree’s

Hear the tree’s…..

Isn’t it silly to bitch sometimes?

I catch myself doing it all the time..

But I forget how lucky I am, how truly lucky I am…

It is the doom of man that we forget

So… Remember to sweat the small stuff….

Be grateful and triumphant for the small things, no simpler than picking a penny off the floor.

Some people can’t do that you know….

Some people can’t see the penny…

Some people won’t hear the penny drop…

Some people have to actually save pennies….

Be grateful and triumphant that the soul is charitable by nature

But remember our small gifts…

Next time you trip and fall, be glad that you can laugh about it and walk on…

Rubbing your knee….

Next time you put a spoon to your mouth, remember the hungry, remember the handicapped

There should be no guilt in being healthy and whole

Just spread it around a little…

Give a piece of your soul

Don’t bitch about what we don’t have…

Bitch about doing more….

Bitch about bitching in the first place.

Love life

Share it

Enhance it in others

Please join us, in this human race.

Travels With Moses


“That’s it…I’m done!”

I sat down heavily on a rock, pulling off my sandals and clapping them together to get this freaking sand off of them!

It’s like walking on F’n sandpaper! (Get it?)

I was a little annoyed and to be honest, at my wits end.

You see…Last Tuesday was my birthday. I turned 49 years old, and I have been following this dude I know called Moses thru this F’n desert since I was 9 years old !!

Lately I’ve been stewing over the fact that for 40 years me and my bunch have been traipsing thru this wilderness… following this guy.

Where we were going was anybody’s guess!

Hell… We just keep following and following him…worse than the F’n sheep!

At least they had the sense to wander off or throw themselves into the jaws of a carnivore or something!

Hell…¾ of the people that started out on this F’n “safari” were dead!!

But Noooo…we had to keep moving around. Had to keep looking for this” better” neighborhood…or what did Moses call it…”The promised land?”

Like I had said earlier, I have been simmering over this for a least 20 something years or so.

But, as soon as I realized I was now only a year from my 50th birthday…it seemed stupid.

I thought to myself…“I’ve known Moses since before all this mess. I knew him when he was a F’n brick-layer!” And…I’ve been following him around for…40…YEARS!

What the hell man?!!

My wife was on my ass…my kids were on my ass, hell! I’ve got 30 kids I know of!

You don’t have much to do in the desert when all you do is walk…chase birds…eat manna off the floor…look for water….

I figure I’ve probably got 2 or 3 kids I don’t even know about since the night we all went to that golden calf thing.

Now that…was a party.


I was tired of walking. I just wanted to find a nice little mirage or oasis somewhere. Soak my treads, eat some dates…drink a little wine.

Not much to ask for someone who is now…my age.

I shaded my eyes from the F’n sun and started looking for Moses.

There was a bunch of us Hebrews…Jordanians, Philistines and Vikings out here now.

Quick note:

We had run into these Vikings over by Sodom. They were camped out by the biggest damn bonfire I had ever seen. Some were drinking tequila and licking a statue.

Hey…whatever floats your boat. But, they were cool.

I finally saw Moses over by his brother Aaron. They were looking at something in Moses hand.

I slipped my F’n sandals back on and stood up to walk over and ask Moses…for the 1000th time…

”Dude, are we there yet?” I smiled.

That always pissed him off. I felt like doing that right now.

My wife whispered “Where are you going!” I looked back over my shoulder, closing an eye to block that F’n sun!

I just stood there. She looked at me. I gave my head a couple of quick jerks in Moses direction. She followed my gaze. Her face tightened. Looking back at me, she sat down and took off her sandals.

“About mother sucking time” she grunted.

My wife has a dirty mouth.

I walked up to the 2 brothers. They were still looking at the thingee in Moses hand.

I strode over.

Moses and Aaron noticed me at their sides. “..sup!” said Aaron…,”..sup! said Moses. “…sup” said I.

Aaron huffed out, “I think there’s something wrong with our “thingee” that the “Angel” (he made quote marks with his fingers) this Angel gave us to find this damn land Moses keeps babbling about”

“Eat me” Moses shot back… gravely inspecting the “thingee”

“I’ve had this thing for almost 20 years now…and I’m starting to think it’s broken” Moses whined.

“How do you mean?”…I was getting concerned now.

Aaron jerked a thumb at his brother…looking  at me Aaron  said “NOW he thinks it’s broke” he laughed mockingly.

Moses snipped…”Hey, you talk to a burning bush and see if you don’t get a little religious!”

“Well…?I mused, breaking up the bitch fest, returning my gaze to the thingee…”What is it NOT doing?”

Moses said “The angel told me that if it acted up to take this little stick and poke it in this hole in the back”…he demonstrated this.

“Then, I wait for 10 seconds, I push this thingee here…” he demonstrated this too. “Now we wait for a second”…we waited for 10.

All of a sudden the little thingee spoke!

I almost shit my pants!

Maybe Moses wasn’t jacked up on peyote!

It said “In 100 miles…take left turn…onto road to…Jericho…then…in 900’…make left onto…Rome highway…”

“That’s all it’s been saying for 20 years!” bitched Aaron.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” I was dumbstruck.
Moses just stood there. He handed me the thingee.

“I’m gonna go talk to the bush” he said.
He left.

I stood there…beyond words.

What in the HELL was I gonna tell the old lady? She’d be PISSED!!

All these 40 years I had been following this cat. And now I find out…that our one means of direction is on the fritz!

F’n great!

My wife is gonna kick my ass!

I dropped down onto the sand. I needed some Viking tequila all of a sudden.

Aaron took the thingee from my hand and threw it on the ground.

He cursed…he stomped…he spit…he pissed on it!

I hollered…”Aaron…enough! If you get everyone else worked up, there’ll be a freaking blood-bath!”

He stood there panting. Looking down at the thingee that lie at his feet…imbedded in the sand.

With a sigh, I stood up and walked over to him.

He was crushed. Poor guy, I know how he felt.

I bent over and picked up the thingee. I started to brush it off…it spoke…I dropped it in alarm.

“You have reached…your destination…please look for…your destination…on the right”

Me and Aaron stood there… Speechless.

I looked around.

I saw a sign about 100 yards from us that had been hidden behind a grove of palms.

I tapped Aaron on the arm and jerked my head toward the sign and started walking toward it. He followed.

We stood at the bottom of the sign and looked up at it. We couldn’t read it. Couldn’t even tell if it was words or writing.

“Where the hell are we?” I asked.

The Viking king Eric the Red wobbled up…he was drunker than shit!

He looked at us. We looked at him. He swayed. He farted and scratched his nards. We wrinkled our noses.

Squinting up at the sign thru his bloodshot eye, the Viking king looked up at the sign.

He swallowed then burped again and said…”Vegas…10 miles”

We had made it!!!


Citizens of the World: Post #1


Where does fault actually lie in a lie?

When there is no trust, why do people still try?

When all hope is gone, why do they pray?

Why isn’t advice taken when asked for, freely given away?

Are opinions only for the opinionated?

Why is normal going out of style?

What purpose does war serve when a cup of tea and a conversation will prevent it?

If we know who are evil why don’t we kill them?

Why do we eat meat when we don’t have to anymore?

Why are weapons necessary when peace is a phone call away?

Is man in the top ten species of this planet?

How can we claim to know beauty when we can’t even fly?

How can we say that we create art and culture when we can’t even breathe downtown?

How can we say that we are masters of the universe when we can’t even understand each other ?

Webster told us what words mean, but who told him?

How come no one has built a pyramid in 3000 Year’s and why did they stop in the first place?

Why did the architects leave?

Why do we spend millions on a baseball player and can’t build a homeless shelter, feed the hungry, teach job skills…. Find lost children?

How can a child just disappear?

How come we can spend millions on a football team and nothing for our schools?

Wouldn’t it be great if it didn’t matter where you go to school because they are all good?

Why did they lie about putting a man on the moon?

Why did they drop the 2nd A-bomb when they didn’t have to?

Why is alcohol still available for sale and kills more people than murder or disease?

Why are there always more questions than answers?

Fuddy Duddy

Its official…..

I have turned into an old fuddy duddy.

I arrived at my nieces house yesterday after driving across Wyoming (East to West) at the blazing average speed of 38 mph thru white-out conditions, icy interstate 80, steep grades, 4 wheelers forgetting the laws of physics and stupid ass super truckers.

There isn’t much to look at in Wyoming on this route, during this time of year…….

[Side Note] Is it an evil thing to hope you see a pile of burning twisted metal around the corner, or at the bottom of a hill that resembles the asshole on the cell-phones car that almost ran you off the icy road 5 minutes before?
Wish I may wish I might….I say “Burn in hell!”


When I showed up at my nieces house yesterday morning, the first thing that came out of her kids mouths were …..GUESS……

You probably guessed right…..”Where’s our presents?!” “What’d you bring me!?”

I didn’t bring them a DAMN thing!

I’ll explain in a second….

They were standing around the door as I entered, and as these inquiries were being shouted out I could see over their punk heads the typical destruction of Christmas morning.

I also noted the harried faces of Mom and Dad. Pale….sleepless….. Sunken….Concentration camp eyes.

I seen presents that were lying on the floor, sitting on the couch or mixed up in a tangle of shredded gift wrapping here and there, presents that were already being ignored.

The 3 boys went right back to what they had been doing.

Playing the PlayStation 3…..

I asked their Mom if that was a new game they were playing and she said “No” it was not.

I looked around again…..2 PSP’s (portable PlayStation thingee’s with 2 games apiece!), 2 Nerf guns, 3 MP4 players, a remote control helicopter and little gadgets here and there.

And these guys looked like they had opened the presents, looked at them, watched as Dad put in the batteries or loaded the Nerf bullets, seen the lights flash, threw them on the floor and surrounding furniture, turned on the TV and PlayStation 3 and began playing the same game they have had for the past year.

I heard one of them say “I wish we’d got a PlayStation 4….”

I know they are just kids…..but I lost my mind…

I couldn’t take it anymore…..these spoiled American kids!

Here is my abridged tirade:

A) “You buncha ungrateful little shits!”

B) “Do you know how hard your parents work to be able to get you stuff for Xmas!?”

Response from 7 year old “Santa Claus brought this!”

Response from crazed Uncle: “Bullshit, everybody knows there’s no Santa Claus….grow up!”

Explanation of why it is impossible for Santa to exist comprising 10 minutes

C) Watch in delight as I shatter their little fantasies!

D) “There are millions of kids on this planet that don’t have parents, homes, food or freaking Christmas presents and here you are bitching
because… (Add whiny voice here and wiggle fingers by face with eyes spinning around while doing a little sissy jig) “I didn’t get a PlayStation

E) Watch as their parents mouths drop open and their eyes widen because they are so proud that Uncle Trey has arrived to set the kids straight and say the things that they won’t or dare not say.

I ignore them when they tell me to leave or they’ll call the Police…..

I am immune to pepper-spray too….

I’m on my soap box baby! Can I get an AMEN!!??

F) I tell them how when I was a dirty little butt muncher I had to grow my own Christmas tree!

G) I tell them about the tears I shed when I had to cut it down every year.

H) I tell them how I had to drag it uphill through the blinding snow and grizzly bears….both ways!
Yes….it snows and there are Grizzly Bears in South Georgia….Quit interrupting….

I) I tell them about how I had to hunt for food to put on our table for Xmas morning and how my family didn’t know until I got back from my
stalking if we were having turkey or the neighbor’s dog…..

J) I told them that we were lucky to get two wooden sticks to beat together for Christmas!

I went on and on about how ungrateful and mean they were being to their parents….Waving my arms about, sprinkling ash in my hair and on my countenance, tearing at the sack cloth about my loins and shoulders….!

My pain for the children of the world forgetting what Christmas is really about….What it stands for was terrible!

I checked Wikipedia to be sure I had the definition down right then continued with my harangue.

I fell to my knees, my head hanging low….the sweat from my brow dripping onto old gift wrapping.

The anguish for a lost society heavy in my soul…..

I looked up in amazement when I heard the sweet sound of one of the boys shout out in glee!

I had gotten through to them….I had changed their outlook and perception of Christmas!

“OMG You killed me!” Shouted one brother to the other, their faces locked on the TV while engaging in virtual PS3 mortal combat.

Their Mom and Dad….asleep on the couch, their legs splayed….mouths open….blanket’s tossed.

I saw my 4 year old niece sitting in the corner humming to one of her new baby dolls as she dressed it…..

Well I’ll be damned…..

“Mom….Uncle Trey’s here”

“Well, let him in then”

“He’s already in”

“Okay…Hi Trey” she rolls over and pulls the blanket up….

Great….Ungrateful little shits, now I gotta go stand in the freaking returns line….

I got them the same damn things!

Warrior Poet


I am imperfect

I am easy prey

I march on toward tomorrow

Before I’m done with today

I fight many battles with no shield or sword

I can fall before my foe at the first cruel word

I am capable of dreams and a weaver of lies

I often mistrust what is beheld by my eyes

What I can imagine, I can create

Be it a wonder of life, or a vehicle for hate

I can be alone when engulfed by a crowd

I can heed what is silent or ignore what is loud

I can draw innocent blood or fine art with the stroke of my hand

I’m a warrior poet that is simply a man…

Take time to smell the flowers, taste a snowflake or rain

And always be a leader when it’s time to go against the grain….

Verizon BFE


I am on hold with Verizon customer support

I am listening to Christmas music

My left eye is starting to twitch and I can’t feel my legs

I have called Verizon because my pre-paid wireless modem is not working here in McAlester, Oklahoma.

I have also just found out that since I am in the middle of Oklahoma, within the borders of an Indian reservation, that they (Verizon) do not have towers here or data connectivity.

There is actually a place in the United States that does not have 3G, 4G, 4G LTE or the little radar thingees that fly thru the air that give us cancer or the internet.

I tried unsuccessfully to hack into some nearby Wi-Fi signals, but they all have pass-codes and above average security.

No one trusts anybody anymore…..So sad.

I guess everyone here must be forced into buying broadband, DSL, HughesNet Satellite stuff or some other thingamabob.

It’s the white man again…..I can see the signs.

I am parked across the road from a retirement home named…New Hope?

That’s just mean…..

I wonder what they do without internet in there.

My evil twin “Tray” that lives inside the small bump on my thigh says that they probably spend their time in Viagra fueled Octogenarian orgies.

I don’t want that picture in my head….

“No Grampa!”
“Oh my god Mrs. Finklestein!”
“That is NOT why we serve you Jell-O Mr. Holmes!”

Old people smell funny.

The small two lane street in front of me is covered in ice and…snow I guess?

It must be really slick because most cars are creeping along; the drivers are all wearing gloves.

No…Not gloves. Their knuckles are white, it just looked like gloves.

I guess it’s so quiet and dead here because of the snow.

These people probably all go to church when it snow’s like this because they must think God is mad at them.

I’d be mad too…no freaking internet…

I wonder if I can find me a nice steam lodge while I’m here on the reservation.

I could do with a little sweat and smoke me some peyote….get in touch with my inner white buffalo.

I was just thinking about getting out of my truck and going into the store I’m parked next to and get me some hot coffee, but my ninnies might fall off and where would I be then…?

Oh crap! I just saw a woman turf it walking from the gas pumps to the store.

Why in the hell is she wearing heels? 

I rolled down my window about an inch or two and asked her if she was okay and needed any help. If she did I would call somebody for her.

Not really….she said no, she was okay.

I beg to differ.

She landed on her butt hard.

And she has on yellow underwear….just saying.

I wonder if she broke her tail-bone.

I bruised mine really bad once, during one of my alcoholic Olympic stints.

I tried to out long jump some younger guys on wet grass…and busted my ass… (That rhymes)

I found out, over the next week, that the coccyx (aka Tailbone) is connected to everything else in your body.

It only hurt when I had to breathe, blink, turn my head, or when the channel changed on the TV or the air-conditioner kicked on.

I went on a liquid diet because I didn’t want to…you know….Have to use toilet paper….

Nobody knows the horror of a bathroom trip with a busted tailbone…except maybe pregnant women.

But, since they brag about giving birth all the time and OH HOW PAINFUL it is, I guess they just ignore mere mortals other paltry injuries.

I loved getting women pregnant.

At least, for once they had a VALID reason to bitch!


Just teasing girls…

Okay, I’m going to wrap this up before I get myself into trouble even more.

I just saw an old man out in front of the retirement home in a gown, smoking a cigarette while connected to one of those oxygen tank doomahickies.

Now there’s an old man that likes living on the edge.

The store guy is helping the yellow panties woman out to her car….Nice guy.

I hope they don’t fall….well, I do kinda.

That would be twice as funny as hell!

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