Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas y’all. Kinda. Not. Perhaps it’s me in my “advancing maturity” and burgeoning cynicism. I’ve about had it with that time of year which starts around the fourth Thursday in November and caps itself off with the typically illegal display of new year inspired neighborhood fireworks which are designed to force thunderstruck dogs to run laps around the couch, jump on the kitchen counters to rearrange your bucket…"A Holiday Rant"
Ladies and gentlemen, I have about six or seven different epic posts banging around in my head, and I can’t seem to take advantage of all the time I have this Labor Day weekend to type them up, finish them, and get them posted. In fact, the only thing I really got achieved today was cleaning the bathroom and looking up the chords for a catchy little tune that I’d like to learn to…"Defining TharpSter"
Ladies and gentlemen, pack your shit. I think it’s time to leave. There comes a time in all of our lives when a sign introduces itself into our lives that pretty much serves as the harbinger of bad things to come. Rest assured I’ve seen plenty of them in the last several years. Even then, I’ve always managed to hold out hope that such events were nothing but signs that it’s always darkest…"The Tale of BigFoot From Serial Isle"
Here’s something that will seem completely irrelevant. I’m flat footed. Did I mention that before? I’m not sure. None the less, the secret is out. Without the appropriate devices jammed into my squeaky Nike Airs or old New Balance 621’s (the laces are loose), I tend to walk with a fallen arch. As I sit here and type, my printer/scanner has started making noises like it’s scanning something. That’s just…"Did I Mention?"