Tag Archives | sorry attempts at humor

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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Places and Times

I know the real reason you are here, don’t lie! You’re here to find out how Jake (the dog) is after his Monday visit to the vet.

Well, Jake is still Jake-ing on, although-be-it with the need for me to shove a variety of pills down his uncooperative throat twice a day to help him with some hip/back issues and an ear infection that I had no idea he had.

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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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Water on The Brain

I’m trying to get back to normal posting, outdoor activities, and photography after two months of watching and shooting B play his junior season of (dystopian) high school soccer. I think the unintelligible, manic-like word vomit disguised as photo tips in my last post may have been my way of dealing with that, and the realization that there’s not much to look forward to over the next six to seven months that doesn’t have the word “tentative” attached to it.

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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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