Culture

The Fruits Of One’s Labor

Last week was a weak. Peak idiocy. I kept dropping my site. And on a post of another, I replied to a comment that somehow ended up positioned not as I intended, so I think busted the thread. A system glitch is all I can plead. And I can’t know that for sure.

Bored yet?

Try ninety degrees in Chi-town last week and with high humidity resulting in old folks dying in an old folks home. I guess the company felt it inefficient to go from heat to air-conditioning and then back to heat in less than a week.

On Friday night I just lost it. First time in years. It just feels as if there is no fix. And then yet another monster’s manifesto and bodies in produce, and the ongoing sophistry and incivility in discussing how to end all the butchery.

You bored yet?

Think it all just all about my pout and the stagger swagger ain’t for real and this fed the fuck up rant isn’t for cause and circumstance?

What’s the WEB for? What’s a blog to be? Silly ass poetry? OK.


Got a million of ‘em. But what rhymes with crimes against humanity? And this country is no longer red or blue … as many are working to make sure this nation turns orange. Where nothing rhymes and there is no rule of law or reason, but to trade in treason and make confusion and hate the new currency.

So y’all go right ahead. Make sure you proudly state on your post that you don’t and never will discuss politics or religion, or those public events of the day that just might spark you to get off your ass and righteously rant.

Excuse me.


For Giggles

Published by r.Douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.