Archive | Random

Finding Normal?

Yet another unneeded brief message from the President and CEO of thesoiledchamois.net, and Soiled Chamois Enterprises, Inc.™

Dear Reader,

The following mega-post written over a few days contains small doses of opinion and large quantities of a personal mental journey in search of some inner peace and self-love (not code for masturbation). There is talk of mental health and depression. I am CLEARLY not a doctor, just a putz with a blog and 49 years and counting of personal experiences dealing with some depression type shit. If the Google machine pointed you here because you were looking for immediate help, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255 or visit suicidepreventionlifeline.org.

— Management

Part of my job as CEO and 1st Shift Supervisor in Charge of Day to Day Operations at Soiled Chamois, Inc.™, is to look through the pages of the blog every so often and make sure that everything is the way it’s supposed to be. Sometimes that means getting rid of something —like when the Archive shit the bed—and then bringing that something back for some reason even though that something’s bed is still filled with shit. Other times it’s just me looking and shaking my head at why and the fuck I ever would create such a monstrous time-sucking beast of ill-written over-sharing and unneeded goofiness. Then I proceed to start writing more of said, unneeded goofiness, like today.

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Petroleum-Based Thanks

On Monday—I think—I went to Meijer (AKA the midwest’s nicer, cleaner version of Wal-Mart1, and swore I wouldn’t go back until after Thanksgiving, and all post-feast, capitalist, COVID super spreader shopping events are over. I then found myself returning the next two days in a row. What can I say, beers are made for drinking.

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Routes Taken

There is a special time in man’s life when he reaches a crossroad; one direction means that his life will stay exactly the same. While the other direction will have his life staying exactly the same, except he wasted time writing a blog post that no one—not even himself—will should read. For most of the past week, I have taken the first route. Today, I take the path of increased time waste. Apparently I have some time, and it needs wasting.

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Finding Peace

Another stupid brief message from the President and CEO of thesoiledchamois.net, and Soiled Chamois Enterprises, Inc.™

Dear Reader,

The following post contains a small dose of opinions and some large quantities of a personal mental journey in search of some inner peace.

In the context of “real life,” COVID, a historic US Presidential election, and the dumpster fire known as the year 2020, it’s a blind pimple on the ass of life that could have/should have easily been ignored.

— Management

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Election Diary 2020

A brief message from the President and CEO of thesoiledchamois.net, and Soiled Chamois Enterprises, Inc.™

You may or may not remember the blog mini-series entitled The Quarantine Chronicles that I wrote way too many editions of. Well, now I bring you Election Diary 2020. It’s one big bulldog ball of a post for you to ignore instead of many.
My goal here is to release the last shots of venom from my mind via my Mac’s keyboard, so I can go back to more important things than American politics. I’m an art, beer, food, music, bikes, comedy, books, boobs, movies sort of guy. And one of the things I hate most about Trump is that the reckless stupidity, racism, xenophobia, and bigotry that he spews—and inspires his moronic followers with— is way too much for me to ignore and to not comment on. Also, he started fucking with Wifey’s career (and thousands of others) with Executive Orders and threats of right-wing political cronyism. And that is some fucking bullshit on a whole other level.
Like the unneeded mega-post I wrote about sports photography, this post will seem a bit manic because of its size and girth. I’m not manic; I was just too lazy and or inebriated to post what I wrote daily, so you get a big ass post filled with f-words, footnotes, unfunny commentary, pathetic attempts at humor, and way too many opinions that no one asked for. They say, “Opinions are like assholes; everybody’s got one.” If that is true, this opinion piece is a giant, gaping asshole that’s oozing blood, puss, oily fecal leakage, and a seething hate for one of the worst people ever to walk this wretched earth; Donald J. Trump. Or as I like to call him, “Fuck Face.”
Lastly, the photos used in this post are mostly crap photos I took on failed photo hikes, goofing off at home, or at work. Sorry. I also apologize for the editing, I will be fixing errors for weeks.
— Management

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Soup’s On! Again

I’m Not a Vegan Creamy Vegan Tomato Soup with bread and vegan butter.

I visit you all here again with tales of wonderment, awe, and spectacular deeds done atop my bicycle!! No, not really. Not at all. But there’s soup! And pictures of my kid playing soccer!! The two main ingredients in any great crap—dare I say legendary infamous—cycling blog.

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Burnt Chowders & Dead Robots

You know that run of mojo-less energy I’ve been experiencing the past couple of months? Well, it’s still ruling me like a jackbooted Machiavellian swine. Additionally, the Trump-fueled, COVID enhanced, Great American Dumpster Fire continues to flame on like happy hour at the Bottoms Up Club. Despite my best efforts to ignore it all and to bury myself in creative pursuits and attempts at physical, mental, and philosophical betterment, my mind continues to alternate between simmering like an unattended vegetarian chowder on life’s back burner and shutting down like a Westworld host with a fried motherboard.

Having said that, somewhere between all the hyperbolic burnt chowders and dead robots of my mind, I managed to go outside and walk around the woods a bit on Tuesday.

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