A | B | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
PART I
MARCH, 1780
ATLANTIC OCEAN, TRADE ROUTE
GOD HELP A HOUSE indeed, since Elliott was, in fact, the head of his: fourteenth Earl Tavendish by virtue of the fact that his father and older brother had died in a coaching accident.
Rather, God help him, since he was most definitely not mad.
Enraged, desperate, and betrayed, aye, but not mad.
Elliott sat in his cabin alone, at his table, having pleaded captain’s duties soon after nuncheon had concluded and Croftwood resumed his leisure. Elliott had buried his head in his palms, his hair soaked with the sweat he had been hard-pressed not to wipe away during Croftwood’s recitation.
It would not take long for Fury to make the connection between what she suspected of Elliott’s circumstance and that tale. She seemed inclined toward sympathy, particularly once Kitteridge’s sobriquet was trotted out and her face had lost all its already meager color. Elliott could only hope Croftwood’s account, no matter how accurate, was perfunctory enough for Elliott to avoid unwittingly betraying himself by supplying further details. As long as Croftwood thought Lord Henry still thirteenth Earl Tavendish, Lord Phillip Raxham still the heir, Commander Elliott Raxham still the second son, and Lord Kitteridge still alive, there was less chance the boy could connect Elliott to Judas.
Because if he did … all could be lost. The Crown would strip the title and every asset from them all and cast his family to the wolves. His younger brother and nephew would lose their places at the bar. Elliott’s villagers, tenants, and boarders, his staff in London—everyone associated with the earldom—would suffer greatly for Elliott’s piracy.
His family and select villagers and tenants, who covered his absence so well that no one would connect him to Captain Judas, could be counted upon to keep their counsel. They had far more to lose than he did, as he would suffer the least: If caught, he would simply be executed on the spot.
He had taken such care this past year to leave no one behind who could identify him, until the blockade when he could not turn back to kill every last British sailor still floating in the wreckage and the ones swimming to shore. They were too many and too scattered.
Both Rathbone and Bancroft had been bobbing in the water, casting up for a glimpse—anything—that would give them a clue as to Captain Judas’s identity. He had no way of knowing what they had seen, and thank God he’d had his hair braided and head wrapped.
And now he was becalmed with a woman who could not only identify him by sight, but, given just a few more pieces of information, could put it all together in the blink of an eye.
A series of low thuds reached his ears, then the clang of metal. The Silver Shilling rocked a bit and Elliott arose to lean out his stern windows. Exactly what he had expected: the Mad Hangman, now being grappled to the starboard side of the Thunderstorm. There were shouted commands, greetings, and questions.
He heard Fury’s voice coming from her quarterdeck, though he could not see her. She was speaking quickly, orders mixed with bawdy jests. There ensued a shouted conversation ’twixt Fury and the Hollander, which Elliott could not understand because they were speaking in Dutch. She bellowed something which caused great guffaws to ring out from beyond the Thunderstorm. Once the Mad Hangman was attached to the Thunderstorm, all three ships settled back into the still water, and their crews went about the business of pursuing their pleasures, he ducked back into his cabin.
He looked around as if searching for something to do, or as if he had many things to do of equal importance and he could not decide which to do first.
Yet he allowed his mind to drift.
… went back to Northumberland properly chastened and is permanently rusticating. Elliott did have to chuckle at that. Only one person had ever managed to properly chasten him, which was how he had ended up at sea, where he least wanted to be. In fact, he preferred rustication.
It was rumored, though, that the two years he spent in Newgate drove him mad.
Being confronted with his personal history by American privateers whilst stuck in the middle of the Atlantic had been an utter shock. He had near cast up his accounts at the first mention of Commander Elliott Raxham, but managed to remain aloof and appropriately interested. How, he did not know.
If he is not mad, I would deem him the strongest of souls.
But what shocked him most was his pressing desire to confide in Fury. She would understand and keep his secrets.
Elliott—I like that name …
Or at least, that was what he wanted to believe.
If it were not for his family, he would tell her. But everything he had done from the time he had turned fifteen and been given his instruction as to his duty had been for his family and he would not betray that now by giving in to a romantic impulse. Other than obliging him to a career he did not want, his family had always loved him, always supported him.
Nearly everything Croftwood knew of the matter was true:
His father had bankrupted the earldom to see to his acquittal, had joined with the Duke of Croftwood to foment the anger against Kitteridge in the House of Lords, had kept the politics in play long enough to wear down King’s Counsel. And while his father’s efforts were just recompense for forcing him to a profession he loathed, Elliott still bore the burden of the debt and the rage of injustice. He had known exactly what to do to refill the earldom’s coffers and had no compunction about doing it—with or without his father’s approval.
It was his mother and sister who had become his partners in crime, for they, too, felt his burden and anger; they, too, were as heartbroken and disillusioned as he. Indeed, they had drawn his magistrate brother-in-law, barrister brother, solicitor nephew, and a few key villagers into this conspiracy. They had all gone willingly, their need to survive greater than their fear of discovery.
He was so close—a mere three weeks away from home—to putting this behind him. He could not risk it now. He had learned, in battle, that it was always the worst before the victory, and Elliott could smell his victory on the wind. He would persevere and fight to the end.
Yet … what victory was it if the estate was still in jeopardy of being taken, of the possibility that one day—one day—the army and navy could descend upon Tavendish Grange with orders for the execution of its pirate earl?
In truth, the job would never be finished, not so long as he looked over his shoulder.
Certainly, Elliott had a contingency plan in case of discovery—which would be to take every soul for which the earldom was responsible and flee England. Whether they fled ultimately to America or Argentina depended entirely upon the outcome of the war.
He remembered in vivid, glorious detail how Fury and the Hollander had blown the blockade, the risk they took using fire at such close range, their lives gambled on the tips of uncontrollable arrows in an unpredictable wind. They had been willing to die to clear the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay for those behind them, to die for this cause Fury had only a philosophical interest in.
His eyes narrowed and he wondered if her philosophical interest, so strong in her she was willing to pay for it with her life, was related to whatever order Dunham had given her that so offended her she was willing to die for that, too.
Independence, she said. The opportunity for the Americans to be her and Bataar and the rest of the women aboard her ship, their worth determined by merit alone.
He arose from the table and sought his bunk, his head now pounding from too little sleep, too much rum, and too much thinking.
There were ways to gain his independence from the Crown and the title. He had thought them over innumerably in the last year the same way he had walked the land in Ohio whilst he was in Newgate. He knew what sacrifices he would have to make and he was willing to do so.
The problem was a matter of what sacrifices his family would have to make, how far they were willing to go to do it, and if he were so ungrateful to them he would push them to it to gain his own freedom.
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
This is just a reminder that Mike Cernovich slept with a (black?) tranny.
Was she hot?
He said he didn’t believe she was a man until he took the panties off and saw a small shriveled up “black” thing. But he also claims to have been drunk and have done some coke so…
I think Sean meant to ask, was he hot, and Cernovich didn’t believe he was a man, etc.
Ah, this ties back so nicely with what I wrote about the death of the family. I can just imagine your smile Moj, knowing what was coming.
😁 It gets even trickier later in the book, with Elliott’s schemes to release himself from his family.
OT Mojeaux, every time I watch this I think of you.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Apothecary_Diaries
It’s a novel series and later manga and anime aimed at adult women. I’ve really enjoyed it as the characters are believable. It’s essentially detective stories set in a fictionalized historical version of China during its height.
The thing is the female lead is believable and smart and heroic while still dealing with the limitations of her strength and the restrictions of the times.
Bonus is my 30 something female Japanese teachers loves it too so it gives us something to talk about.
Thanks!
Bought the first light novel, although I’m not quite clear on the difference between a novel and a “light novel.” I have zero patience for manga/comics, so I’m glad they had that available.
In Japan popular fiction is a light novel. Literature and the like are full “novels”.
Speaking of Americans versus Brits:
During the exciting several hours following the moment when the Trump-loyal conservative pundits held up their binders for media cameras, nobody squirmed in their padded seats more energetically than did one Sir Kier Starmer.
🔥 So … was the hastily arranged Epstein binder spectacle a threat? A plain-as-day threat Trump delivered right before the British summit convened? A blunt message saying don’t threaten me, you nincompoops, because I will tear down the Royal Palace so fast it will make your tea-stained faces spin.
If I’m right, then Starmer fled Washington in a panic. That explains the corporate media’s muted coverage of the meeting (the NYT, for example, generously teased it in advance but ignored yesterday’s actual meeting). The Brits are frantically scrambling behind the scenes to figure out what Trump actually has on Epstein, Andrew, and their intelligence agencies.
From this morning:
https://open.substack.com/pub/coffeeandcovid/p/non-disclosure-friday-february-28?r=d0r3d&utm_medium=ios
Trump needs to get his ass down to the SDNY office himself, pull the files with secret service protection, and release the shit unredacted. Because that’s what he promised.
I don’t care if the intel agencies value their assets scared and easy to blackmail. Names need to be named. And the client list is just shorthand for the evidence of who was or wasn’t on those islands. Who was on the Lolita Express. That’s not a right wing media invention.
I know it will never happen. We’ll probably get nothing of substance in our lifetimes.
Or, Trumps in on it and it’s all a play. Considering the stature of these clients and that they run in the same circles there are certainly people on that list that he’s fond of in one way or another: friendly acquaintances, friends, and, more importantly in politics, donors. It ain’t gonna happen…plus Mossad and all of the complications that a can of worms like that entails.
I’ve mused about that myself, particularly considering the fact that Epstein claimed Trump as a friend for a period of time.
The Israeli shit stinks to high heaven.
It’s suspicious to me that no one on the left is really pushing this angle. Both sides kind of just want the Epstein shit to die, is my hunch.
This.
The only people demanding the release are weirdoes like us.
Perfect.
That bitch.
Why is Santa Fe the resort for washed-up Los Angelesans? It’s not at all interesting. You gonna waltz around the square? And waltz around it again? And again? Because it’s about a half-acre including the asphalt. There’s a park in the middle.
Even my childhood hero Douglas Adams had an affection for Santa Fe. Here I am, some tween in Albuquerque, digging my nose into the Hitchhiker’s Guide. Little did I know my hero author was wasting his affections in the capital city that the state (under libertarian hero Gary Johnson, btw) built a bypass around, to spare everyone who isn’t from here, and also everyone here, the needless exasperation of driving through Santa Fe. And then Adams died of a heart attack in a gym shower in Los Angeles. Or thereabouts. I don’t remember, I was a kid. Did he die in Santa Fe, his much-beloved pied-à-new mexico? No. Back in Los Angeles
Sit-down old man comedy:
https://substack.com/@dadexplains/note/c-93864183?r=d0r3d&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action
🔥🔥🔥
LOL
That. Was fucking hilarious. Fuckin’ well-done. Will share with Dad. (I may only show the Depends joke. It’s a constant presence in all our lives. (Went out and bought two big packs today. The cashier, older than Dad’s 75, chided him a few times for improperly using his debit card and touchscreen.)
Also: The box where Necco wafers used to reside, with Dad (assuredly?) their only (occasional) fan, still sat there…though empty. About fucking time. By far the most objectionable ‘candy’ I’ve ever sampled. They’re chalk Communion wafers. My sins don’t warrant such punishment.
(The old-timey packaging is fun, I gotta say, though just for the ’50s/ Civil War ‘nostalgia aspect. The last discs sold must have been (easily) two-decades+ old. (ev, ya kinda have a thing for parentheticals, don’tcha?)) Stop it. (Mostly.)
Stop that. Neccos were a Halloween favorite. Up there with Smarties.
But yeah when my time comes I figure I’ll just mail-order my diapers.
You are very odd, Rhy.
*Adds rhy to list.
The scariest:
https://substack.com/@franktbird/note/c-95927317?r=d0r3d&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action
Vaguely made me think of:
https://x.com/HumansNoContext/status/1894805364815655025
I normally hate “subway showtime” but that guy is great. I don’t think he’s shaking people down either, just playing.
You prefer subway cinemax?
I was
hoping forwaiting for someone to knock his lights out. I hate(d) that shit.Something like this, rhy?
Yes, but never apologize. Just walk away.
Why don’t they ever learn.
I enjoy the relative meritocracy of (let’s say pre-industrialization) naval crews, pirates and military alike. (Or at least my (mostly fantasized) view of it. Rank is attained one way or another, the barbarous, talented and corrupt alike.
Reminds me of a fantastic quote, especially pertinent here. [Brooklyn] Dodgers manager on Jackie Robinson: “I don’t care if he’s green, black, yellow, white. He has talent.” — Dude could play. When your job is *winning,* who gives a shit? (Losers.) Many pesky differences are forgotten. (Or muted. (Good enough!))
If you havent, read the Aubrey/ Maturin series of sailing stories. Quite authentic tales of the British navy during the Napoleonic wars.
/Master and Commander
Man helps sloth:
https://substack.com/@duell/note/c-92013248?r=d0r3d&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action
Glad I wasn’t scammed into paying for a print copy of this https://archive.org/details/whalingmastersco00unse
Figures a federal works program would produce worthless content.
Friday Funbags After Dark returns!
https://archive.is/nVJdi/e557b54dfcd68335a064021894799fd02c61758c.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/enwQk/77e3b1aa9ce4162222f309d9bd7aba5ed6774310.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/aWOJT/56e68088d5abbaba5dddaa2c6c73842b2c8ded43.jpg
NSFW.
That is AI.
1 and done. That’s the kinda-rare ‘My Type’ I see from you.
Best two for last:
https://archive.is/e7sMF/2d34d2f9e16c56fdb90b053ed1b619403211b253.jpg
https://archive.is/aD5Fx/fb6488911ccfad59ab36d063a3c759bb220f7832.jpg
NSFW.
I don’t normally comment on the appearance of non-Firsters as there is no point, but the first picture you posted above was clearly the best.
QFT
I need to call my lady back, 3 all the way
I enjoyed this (half, assuming) chapter enough to go back and re-read a bunch from the start so I could refresh my brains on what had happened already and fill some of the gaps therein. It helped.
Ernie Gygax has passed:
https://www.enworld.org/threads/ernie-gygax-has-passed-away.712080/
His dad was Gary Gygax. one of the co-creators of Dungeons & Dragons
Gary was a libertarian-ish fellow, who was on the FBI’s radar for packing heat and wearing a pony tail. He died in 2008.
Just the sort of vague characters assassination you want to include in a obituary.
Not a prog would be my guess.
I was just seriously asked by some Dem how Ukraine joining NATO is a security threat to Russia.
Even my idiot brother was like it’s different because it’s the US when I posed how it would be different if Russia formed a military alliance in our backyard.
I fail to comprehend the ignorance of people. There’s almost no understand of history or geopolitics. Even on here, there’s still a tendency to break it down to simplistic morality. No, Russia didn’t have a “right’ to invade a sovereign country for exercising it’s sovereignty (if we can call it that after the CIA helped stage a coup in that country). But that’s not how geopolitics work. It’s not about right or wrong and anyone who believes otherwise is kidding themselves.
I’m a big believer in Realpolitik so I feel your pain.
Almost everything I have seen from the mainstream elites regarding the possible outcomes over there has been a complete fantasy.
If it wasn’t already clear, fantasy has been the driving aspect of every part of the new world order they have/had planned. From the Tranny threat to international relations, MMF to immigration, no part of what they think is based on reality and the world we inhabit.
I miss old school Dems, they at least had their feet on the ground.
Belarus has always been way more of an overt Russian protectorate than Ukraine, but because of its relative unimportance in terms of population and resources, they were never up for grabs, much like Mongolia.
Ukraine, on the other hand, has been the single most important territory ever conquered by Russia. They’re never going to let it slip into the hands of the EU, NATO, or anyone else.
There was a fragile peace from 1991 to 2014 that went something like this: Ukraine stays independent as long as its government is aligned with Russia. That deal was broken with pressure from the US.
It’s similar to the China-Taiwan stand-off. The only thing keeping the peace is the face that the Taiwanese have not declared independence.
I am not looking forward to that one falling apart.
It all boils down to “NATO’s not a threat as long as Russia does what they want.”
Idiots.
Off Topic – Fuck the trope of the “lovable” pickpocket. They are no such thing. Pickpockets, con artists, and fraudsters deserve nothing out pain, regardless of their motives or circumstance. There needs to be some form of justice for their victims which is often denied in trying to rehabilitate the image of these gross fiends through emotional manipulation. They are muggers and robbers without the honesty.
Cut off the right hand.
You eat with the right and wipe your ass with the left, hence…
/old school justice for thieves
I feel the same way about vandals. Just scum.
But think of all the lessons taught by Frankie Avalon…
Sherlock Holmes, among other things, was a pickpocket.
Also, ICYMI:
Whaling in the 1940s – it has a very detailed explanation of blubber processing
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATLe41T3D7c
Holmes was a terrible character.
Maybe, but certainly a popular and a profitable one. He’s been portrayed in movies and TV more than any other fictional character.
https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/news/2012/5/sherlock-holmes-awarded-title-for-most-portrayed-literary-human-character-in-film-tv-41743
I used to think The Hyperbole was the ultimate contrarian here, but you’re giving him a run for his money.
My opinions do not rise from contrarianism.
Holmes witheld information required to solve the mystery before the official reveal. This is an unforgivable sin.
UCS: I believe you mean Conan Doyle withheld information to the reader, not Holmes himself. He does seem like your kinda guy.*
In that instance, I agree. They’re not good ‘mysteries,’ but I’ve never seen ’em as such. (I grew up with the Jeremy Brett ones – parents used ’em for Movie Nights, and I fucking loved ’em. I did read a couple of ’em as well, back in the day. Fuck. May be a perfect nighttime watch.
In Holmes stories, exploring the character and *how* he interprets the clues is the real read. A favorite: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abckzfkg4zI
*”My mind,” he said, “rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen my own particular profession, or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world.”
Oops, wrong Frank:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Abagnale
Oh well. Drinking wine and posting online is like playing Russian roulette.
In Tanzania and many other parts of Africa, thieves who are caught red-handed in public are often beaten or stoned to death. I calmed an angry mob about to do that once.
One of my Peace Corps pals lost two students after they were falsely accused of paying with counterfeit currency and then beaten to death by an angry mob, hence my actions above.
Due process exists for a reason.
And yet in fiction, the thieves are neither brought to justice nor recieve any retribution, being lionized for their criminality and often excused because of simple poverty as though that were enough.
Were the courts in Africa even mildly effective against regular crimes? At the point where the public is forming lynch mobs on the regular, I suspect not.
Yeah, I might feel like stoning graffiti “artists” to death but only if I was certain they were guilty.
Fiction is often about what people wish would happen rather than reality. Many people wish criminals were actually decent people who only harmed the deserving (because of the just world fallacy).
Prisons in Tanzania and many other poor countries are extremely unpleasant (ever been to a Turkish prison, Johnny?). In Tanzania, criminals sometimes run *to* the police to avoid mob justice.
That guy I protected from the angry mob? When the cops showed up, he immediately got up off the ground and into the paddy wagon. The cops didn’t even touch him.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RICrrVY6bfM
The video title says: thief set ablaze
Sorry for the delays. My connection keeps going out.
I saw many acts of vandalism up close in Chicago, but I knew that if I confronted the miscreants, no good would come of it.
Derp: ” I calmed an angry mob about to do that once.” <– I would love to hear or read that story.
It might be cathartic to write one of my own tomorrow. I'm also gonna explore that Walmart for the first time, the priority.
gist:
A Norwegian woman came to visit the orphanage she donated to and I did some work at:
https://goodhopetrust.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-piglets-construction-work.html
While walking alone, a thief attacked her. Someone saw the attack and soon an angry mob formed. They beat the thief unconscious in front of a church near the orphanage. I ran there as soon as I heard the story from the wounded Norwegian. I heard the mob muttering about pouring gasoline on him and setting him on fire. In my best Swahili, I tried to calm the mob and told them I would call the police. I ran to meet the orphanage director and told her the mob was about to immolate a guy in front of a church. She took out her phone and said she’d talk to the police, but it’d take them 2 hours or so to get way out there in the village. I ran back to the mob and did my best to calm things until the police got there.
full translation of the video title:
Arusha thief completely incinerated – he broke into and robbed a store of 320,000 shillings (about $200) his accomplices escaped
Fuck. Brave, you, and thanks.
Well. I’m marking this date as the one where I can officially put my right hip in the ‘pain’ territory. Was just a tiny tweak, nothing really ‘painful, but I distinctly know what this is the beginning of. This is profoundly unsettling. When the Real Pain begins, uh. I may not be safe around myself.
This was higher up in the pelvis, I reckon where the screw goes through it. (The left hip has two screws.) I’m glad I’m seeing the orthopedist in a couple weeks. Maybe caught it early, if one can do that with hips. Gotta say. It’s lasted 13 years so far, despite getting run over by a car and breaking that femur in a separate incident. (That was that fuck sucker-punching me in Korea and I landed on a curb with a snap. Titanium was the only solid structure keeping my leg ‘together.’) I wanna do ads for those surgeons. That’s a fuckin’ helluva stress-test their work lived up through.
On a positive note, I do have that Walmart I-9 meeting Sunday, so I s’pose I start whenever! Fuck, I can’t wait to get out of the house and have a defined structure. Another lovely uplift, Munchkin in MN spoke of her Dreamland wish to come down here to visit and possibly find work. That’d be fun, though highly doubtful. (Quite likely a *bad* idea, but those can be great.) Pretty much, we just commiserate over the phone and we share the ‘same’ history, mindset and philosophy. Both lonely outcasts back in America after a decade away. We *have* made a pact to get married at 45 if either hasn’t found their One. Hrm.
There’s a book I’ve been reading that reminded me of you. It’s called Saved and it’s the autobiography of a war correspondent named Benjamin Hall. After many adventures and close calls overseas, he narrowly survived a bombing in Ukraine which took both his legs and killed the other 4 people he was with at the time, including his cameraman best friend. He narrowly survived and had to undergo many surgeries. His desire to see his wife and kids again is what kept him alive.
Have you thought about writing a book? Many other people with much less interesting lives have.
His story reminded me of myself in some ways. That’s probably why my mom sent it to me as a birthday present this year. Is it worth it to risk your life for bragging rights or just to tell a cool story? In the end, the only people who really care about you are your family and friends.
Hmm. Narrowly survived. The phrase so nice I said it twice.
Time for a wine refill.
“Have you thought about writing a book?” <– Yes, I think it's kinda what I *need* to do. See also: Putting together my Tight-Five stand-up and trying shit 'round. I have, or had, a rough idea of how the book would kinda go. I don't know if novel, auto, script, but it's all kinda there:
Act 1: Setting of personality and living, traveling to where I've been. (I've published Kazakh and Sri Lanka, bit of Hanoi here. I'm not sure what I should focus on. I actually DO have an idea for something to write tomorrow.)
Act 2: The Incident in Chiang Mai,and as you've likely seen, the shittiness and grit of rehab recovery
Act 3: Back into the world. I went back to Korea, though one time I was too surrounded by hallucinations to continue. I had to flee back to the States. I did go back and have a successful year-contract in Korea. I then was managing Editor for10mo before I fell apart. Then I went into phlebotomy, with plenty of ways to add fun. There was that fatal shooting on the floor after I was hired.
I wanna tie Munch into all of this. I actually really easily could, and I've had a fun idea for a long time. She worked in Family Services in MN and hated most of the recipients cuz they were moochers. (One demanded another EBT Card cuz her husband withheld it unless she gave him some "BUTT SEX!" she kept shouting.) <– Plan for Ev+Lover : We mooch the system ourselves and have a baby out of wedlock.
I'm a quite seriously disabled person, though I (still!) pass as 'normal, and she's (legit) an abandoned Indian orphan who was shuffled in and out of foster homes, but we met in Korea. (See Act 1) We combine our disabilities and try to mooch the System for all we Deserving recipients of care get all we need.
I have an idea for the last line. — Fuck. I really do need to do this. This is what I *do.* Grrrrrrgle.
You could join Peace Corps since you like to travel overseas. Given your health problems, you might get rejected.
But definitely write about your life.
Ev, I think your DNA merits replication and I hope you have children.
That’s maybe the sweetest thing anyone’s said to me. Another good one was yesterday, when the girl at the diner was the first to out-loud say I ‘passed,’ after hearing about my brain surgery.
Never wanted kids and no way that’s a good idea, now. I have my three nephews and the 4yo is by far the closest to ‘me.’ I prioritize staying here so I can be ’round and with ’em as they grow up. He’s magical.
IIRC, the article I jotted ideas down for was about my traveling through different careers, and how some people are just like that. My bro and I have the same (mental+physical) energy. He’s a laser; I’m a shotgun. World takes all types. Regardless of where I end up, I do gotta say, I’ve seen this world more than most can imagine, and it certainly hasn’t been ‘ordinary.’ (Painful, yes.)
Dammit. If I’m not overridden by Dad, or my nascent pelvic pain, I’ll write up a draft and include pics of other lands to further entice. It’s like a paradox of choice, ‘impossible’ to pick, condense, add and edit. (That’s a Good Problem to have, I s’pose. Better than the alternative.)
This is going to be an oddly rough weekend. Come to grips with my hip once again dying, with the other coming soon, and the need to make a good impression (ya only get one) at Walmart. Writing (publishing /selling?) is too perfect to dream of ignoring.
Sorry. I’ll be well around myself, but this is a rough mind-fuck, kinda worse cuz I’ve been waiting for it. Grgle-grgle.
*too perfect to ignore.
I’m sure there were others.
Overnight in a hotel with the puppy from hell for the first time. We’ve made it through one hour in the room and puppers isn’t completely freaking out now.
My best friend from NSA asked me to watch her house and dog while she was away once. It went well until one day the dog got sick and Keith Richard-ed all over the house. I did my best to clean it up and told her that shit literally happened.
Same dog cuddled with me on her couch when I stayed the night at her place after a Thanksgiving dinner where I got super drunk.
Sean is late
A man’s got needs.
QFT.
Good mornin. Have a Smurftastic day!
🌄☕😄
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=cLnkQAeMbIM
🎶🎶
Smurf you, you smurfing smurf.
Good morning, Sean, U, Ted’S., slummy, and Teh Hype!
How goes?
Very well, thanks, though it’s definitely more gray than blue around here today. The temperature outside took a dive overnight, but I have my chai latte, so it’s OK. How are you?
I’m trying to figure out how to run a bunch of odd errands.
Be sure to plot your route like UPS, with as few left turns as possible.
As long as it’s at a red light, I can make lefts.
but I do try to minimize the amount of waiting for a gap in traffic I have to do.
I assume she’s enjoying herself at Tranquility Base.
Sadly, it’s only 36 degrees F (“feels like 27”) here in SW OH, so Tranq Base has not yet opened for the season. I’m inside, but in a comfy platform rocking chair* given to me by my mother many years ago. It’ll do until Spring proper.
*Less hazardous to cat’s tails
The credit union had notaries – but not in all branches. So I have to route by an unfamiliar branch to get this form notarized. Plus I have to stop at Whole Paycheck to turn in my faulty BluRay return, then meet up with Not A for lunch.
https://nypost.com/2025/02/28/us-news/megalodon-goldfish-went-from-cute-to-brute-in-pennsylvania-waterway/
Chonk.
Love the forced perspective on that picture. Looks like the guy who surprisingly didn’t get fired by DOGE has arms of different lengths.
Carp get a lot bigger than that.
Major League Baseball didn’t have the courage or decency to put the late, great, Pete Rose, also known as “Charlie Hustle,” into the Baseball Hall of fame. Now he is dead, will never experience the thrill of being selected, even though he was a FAR BETTER PLAYER than most of those who made it, and can only be named posthumously. WHAT A SHAME! Anyway, over the next few weeks I will be signing a complete PARDON of Pete Rose, who shouldn’t have been gambling on baseball, but only bet on HIS TEAM WINNING. He never betted against himself, or the other team. He had the most hits, by far, in baseball history, and won more games than anyone in sports history. Baseball, which is dying all over the place, should get off its fat, lazy ass, and elect Pete Rose, even though far too late, into the Baseball Hall of Fame!
https://truthsocial.com/@realDonaldTrump/114085325641437111
https://www.powerlineblog.com/archives/2025/03/the-week-in-pictures-high-five-edition.php
Those are great!
Evolution of the Left is excellent.