These are great days we’re living, bros

………We are jolly green giants, walking the Earth with guns. These people we wasted here today are the finest human beings we will ever know. After we rotate back to the world, we’re gonna miss not having anyone around that’s worth shooting.

You know how I have determined I am getting old? No really. It finally clicked. See to me age is more or less a state of mind. I never was one to sweat or worry about birthdays or dread the big 30 or couch couch 40. Generally speaking I am a firm believer you’re only as old as you feel. I feel good most of the time. I may not be as spry as I was in my early twenties, it may take a little longer to recover from a hang over, but age to me is generally a non-issue. I have dated younger, older no trouble.

Finally it clicked to me. I am getting fucking old. How did all this come about, you may ask? Easy! I found a new favorite restaurant.

Pho Now. Its a Vietnamese food place around the corner from the house. I had read about it online a couple months ago. My brother finally went to it and said the food was good. I pulled in and tried it this past Saturday. Its really good. Imagine Thai food-ish but better.

Anyway I stopped in and ate there this past Saturday. I wanted banh mi which is basically a sandwich made out of French baguette. They were out of bread, so I went with a bowl of basically ramen. However this isn’t like the $.25 cent ramen noodles most of us ate to get through college or the service. This has beef and meatballs, bean sprouts, cilantro, carrots basil and jalapeños. Spicy and flavorful. It was almost like I was back on some street in Siagon, and Charlie was celebrating TET new years by shooting off fireworks down in dog patch. Ok maybe not that part, but it was really good. It was pretty cheap, and it was a mile and a half from the house.

I go home satisfied. I thought about that damn meal all freaking day. It was fresh, flavorful, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was like I had met my soulmate for christ’s sake. Don’t get me wrong I have had and made great food in my life. What was so special about this other then what I have stated above?

Now like three or four days later, I am still thinking about that damn food like its a woman. No really, I am not losing my mind goddamn it. Or maybe I am? Oh shit. I have been debating about going back for more of this food but, and I swear I have been having an internal struggle. “Do I go back so soon? Should a wait a week before I show back up? If I go again so soon will I seem desperate?”

See what I mean? I have gotten so old, I am now treating new restaurant and food find like I have met the next great love of my life. What the hell happened to me? How did this happen? What is next? Thanking god I can still get horizontal, pee standing up and regularly take a good shit?

I don’t like this realization one bit. I love that damn food and restaurant, but how I have somehow replaced the love and excitement for say a beautiful woman for that of a bowl of good gook noodles is troubling.

My only rationalization is that this is what its like to get old.


I refuse to let this happen. I will go cleanse my soul with a good dose of internet pornography tonight. Right after I translate a few Vietnamese words on Google translator and decide what I am ordering for dinner tomorrow night.Phodacbiet

Devils Night 2014

brock18…or how most refer to as my birthday. Yep the big four three today. To be honest with you I really don’t feel forty-three. Hell I don’t feel forty or thirty-five. I guess in the grand scheme of things its good I don’t feel my age. I have never particularly acted it, so I guess it only goes to show that I don’t feel it either.

Technically, I am middle aged. I can only hope to live to eighty-six years old in relative good health.  So I am middle aged, and eternally single it seems. I just don’t get out much and meet new people. As far as a mid-life crisis I either haven’t had one, or have been in one the last twenty something years. I haven’t particularly grown stale in long term relationships (although I have been lucky enough to love a handful of some great women and a couple of cunts) and needed to go out and sow my wild oats or buy Corvettes. I have always gone after the women I wanted when I wanted, and as far as toys, I bought them all. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, tools, guns, TV you name it. If I wanted it I bought it.

Sometimes I wonder what if I had done this or accepted and settled down with that? In the end I figure I am right where I want to be. Happy. Could that include someone else in the future? I have no idea and thats what I like the most. Every new day is an adventure. I do know what I won’t give up and thats “me”. I am going to be me and me is content.

When I look back on my first half of life, certainly there are things I would like to have done differently. However in the end everything I have done to get me to this point the good, bad and ugly, has made me what I am today. In the big picture I can honestly say, I am one blessed motherfucker and try very hard to live with no regrets.

My family is golden. We’re no better or worse then any other and frankly most may even consider us functioning at the middle range of disfunction. Thats all ok. In the end I can honestly say through everything we all love each other and have each others back. Its my opinion that you’re basically shit without family. I have mine and thats like winning the lotto.

Friends. You want to judge someone? Easy. Just look at their friends. I have a metric shit ton of them. Some new some old. I can honestly say, if I lined up all my friends whom I think would stand up for me and admit saying “Yes I know him and he’s my friend” I would give the Dali Lama, Mother Teresa, Hunter S. Thompson, and Bob Hope a run for their money in the friend department. I couldn’t be more blessed in this regard.

My dogs seem to love me. Dogs can pretty much sniff out a scumbag at birth. Mine seem to appreciate and love me. I am winning in this subject for sure.

My nieces are a bit young yet, but I figure I’ll buy them their first beer, kick the shit out of the first scumbag boys that try and take advantage of them and teach them how to truly craft a string of profanity that would make any sailor or longshoremen blush. I’m sure they’ll appreciate these things later in life.

I am content, happy and forty-three today. What will the next forty-three years bring me? No clue, but I am looking forward to every one of those years with wide eyed wonder and abandon. I have learned some valuable lessons to get me to where I am today, and if by some chance I get more opportunities to strike with this hard learned knowledge the world is my oyster. If not? Well I’ll sit back, jerk off to some internet porn, pet the dogs, take a nap and call up some friends for dinner or a drink. I mean what else do I have to worry about? Signing up for Obamacare?

In the mighty words of Walter Sobchak, “Fuck it Dude. Lets go bowling.”

Thanks for all the birthday wishes on Facebook, Text messages, Tweets, etc. You know who you are, and I hope you know how much each of you means to me. It’s only 10PM and I still have a chocolate strawberry cake and a hand job coming to me . 😛

Let ‘er rip tater chips.

Hello October!

What’s new trusted and committed reader? I hope this update finds you well in this post Breaking Bad pre Walking Dead purgatory we find ourselves in.

Me? I’m good. In my last update I mentioned a new member to the pack at home. Coconut Head has made himself at home and is as thick as thieves with my other two scoundrels I call my best friends. We’re one BIG happy family now and things are running smoothly. IMG_1503

Can you guess which one is the alpha pack leader?

You know when a dog has accepted you as their master and trusts you completely. He / She will come up to you without provocation and lick you on the face. Genetically from when dogs were wolves a face to face licking is a sign of submission and acceptance. This hasn’t changed in any dog breeds or since man has domesticated the animals. Today for the first time since I brought him home, Coconut Head my Mastiff came up to me this morning and stared at me then licked my face. Now I was on the throne taking a shit at the time, but we keep things real in my house so it was all good.

If I have learned anything in life from dogs its the following. Dogs simply do not care who you are, what you do, what you look like, how much money you make, or how much you lie through your teeth trying to convince others that you are all the things you are not. In the simplest of terms if you can show an ounce of compassion, love, and leadership a dog will accept you, love you back and follow you to the grave. How much more simple can life get? We as humans often over complicate relationships and look where we end up? Oh and one more thing. Never say never. I swore I’d never get another male dog, I swore I’d never get a smaller dog. I also swore I’d never get three dogs. Yet here I am finding the most honest of life’s pleasures of owning three male dogs, and the profound simple enjoyment of being appreciated for providing a decent home to these animals by the mere lick of the face while taking a morning shit.

My next serious relationship with a woman I am simply going to state up front, love me and I’ll love you. Lead me and I will follow. Be honest with who you are and I wont care. From time to time I may lick your face when you take a shit to show you how much I love and appreciate you. (ok maybe not the last part but whatever, never say never right? She may be into that kind of thing)

I am convinced we can get a heck of a lot further in life and in happiness if we take a few lessons from our dogs. In the words of Walter White, “Cheer up beautiful people this is where you get to make it right.”

I love October. Besides being my birth month, October is one damn fine month in Florida. The weather usually breaks down here. By breaks I mean it goes from 90’s to 80’s on average with a slightly easier humidity point. Yes, it feels like fall. It has to be fall. Pumpkins are showing up on church lawns, and grocery stores. Walmart has Thanksgiving and Christmas shit out already, so it has to be fall. Three weeks into football season. My Harley is getting washed and ready for some road time. It is fall!

Let ‘er rip tater chips.

It’s Cliche Monday

One door closes another one opens.IMG_0947
Know you like the back of my hand.
This will only end badly.

All pretty cliche in one sense or the other. Let me tell you about my weekend. It was pretty laid back and normal for the most part. In an earlier post I mentioned how one of my friends recently lost her mother and Sunday there was a small memorial service for her which I attended.

After the service a handful of us went to a local restaurant for brunch. In any event we make our way from the funeral home to the restaurant and a couple of friends and myself get there first and ask for a suitable table to accommodate the party. Others were taking flowers back home, changing clothes. etc. Its a Key West, outdoorsy, Tiki, old Florida type restaurant. Waitresses in sneakers, shorts, tank tops.

Chapter 2. The Waitress.

I have been in love exactly two times in my life. Once was before I knew what love really was and got involved with a woman whom I didnt really love at all. It was more like, this must be love because this is what I am supposed to do. Buy a ring, get engaged, get married make babies live happily ever after. Got past the engaged part and learned a valuable lesson. It wasn’t love at all but expectation. We’ll call her girl number one.

The next time, I met this woman. Beautiful girl, incredibly sexy, great sense of humor, compatible in every way. Everything came naturally, I could make her laugh, she made me laugh. Same interests, similar backgrounds. Finally I had what I wanted in every single way. This was LOVE. There was no wondering or second guessing. Family and friends loved her. Family and friends who have known me all my life coming up to me commenting, how happy I seemed and have changed, this is it marry this girl. Except there was one small little problem. This girl was and still is to this day the text book example of pathological liar. I dated the girl for many months. She’s fucking married the entire time. When I find out, it was one lie after another which essentially lasted for years afterward. For years I tried to make sense of it and come to terms with how this all happened and basically all I can figure out is if there is a God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, or any other Hocky Cocky supreme being that surely that SOB has one sick sense of humor. In the end though I just go with Karma and imagine I was a real bastard in a past life and have a hell of debt to pay. Anyway we’ll call her girl number two.

So back to yesterdays brunch and the “Waitress”. I start counting on my fingers how many people are coming, she teases me about counting on my fingers I chuckle and she leads us to a table. Now I can tell you at this point I have only interacted and physically saw this girl for all of maybe 120 seconds at this point and I pretended like nothing was happening or my mind wasn’t racing a million miles an hour, but I wont. It probably took me about all of 25 seconds to realize this was in my mind at least an exact clone to girl number two described above. Facial features, mannerisms, body type, hair, eyes, ass, legs, hands.

We had about a twenty minute wait for the rest of the group to show up, and I was literally forcing myself to pay attention to what the others at the table were saying. Internally I was in the midst of my very own panic attack. While watching the waitress help others and not become a drooling idiot or become some leering creep, the voices in my head were on a constant repeat of “keep your shit together schmuck”. It was full on World War 18 in my head and my heart was twisting in such a goddamn knot it was ridiculous on so many levels. This was a simple waitress. Nothing more. She was nice, not flirting. Just a normal everyday encounter with a stranger on the street of gastrointestinal commerce. What the hell?

The rest of the party shows up and sits down. Waitress comes over to help them with drink orders. I try and not stare. I surely fail. I haven’t said anything to anyone at the table at this point. I am half heartedly following along in conversation. In my head I am nearing the end stages of the mental battle of how this waitress has my full attention. I decide I am not going to bring anything up about waitress and girl number two above. It was long ago, I have moved on and at this point all it will look like is insanity. But I cant.

I have to rationalize this or I am going to face being ostracized by my friends. How do I explain this in a way that doesn’t make me look like some love sick weirdo who cant seem to let go of the past? If I say one goddamn thing to my friends at the table about this infatuation I have with the waitress they are going to see right through me. How do I frame this turmoil in my head and heart that doesn’t make me look like some kook?

My close friends know me. I love beautiful women. The reality is, to me and what I consider beautiful comes in may shapes and sizes. While on the outside this all may seem very shallow, I can in fact see beauty in many ways depending on how a woman looks and carries herself. Sure there are such things as nice boobs or legs, or butts, but really its the whole package. Having one good attribute and nothing else doesn’t necessarily make a girl beautiful to me. Its everything combined.

Now I will admit my thoughts on attraction go both ways and I live by the same sword I yield around my head.

However for me when it comes to physical attraction, this waitress was right in my wheelhouse. Oh and by this stage in the brunch with my friends, the gig was F’ing up.

I had to say something. I slowly and deliberately start off with “I have something to say and let me just start off like this…” I attempt to explain beauty and what I find attractive. I essentially get out about half a sentence about looks and whole package blah blah blah and get one look and grin from my friend Amy who I sometimes forget knows me much better then I give her credit for.  Amy cuts me off at the knees with, “That waitress is all you Brocky she looks exactly like girl number two.”

The table laughs, and it was like a ton of bricks lifted from my back. I was busted and there was no more rationalizations or denying it. I slapped my hand on the table and simply say, “I would right this minute burn this goddamn restaurant down to the ground for that waitress.” Someone at the table asks, “the waitresses what? To go out with you?” I very simply reply, “nope, just for her telephone number.” Some more laughter from friends. I half heartedly laugh too, if only to ease their minds and not show them how serious I was.

I didn’t get her number. I didn’t commit a felonious crime and burn the place to the ground.  My other friend Debbie who does work for the state taxing authority is going to lien the restaurant out of business until she finds out the waitresses marital status and contact information. Ok that parts a joke, but I did swear I’d paint her house and cut her grass all summer if she did find out.

The irony and silliness of all this is, I don’t have game to approach this girl. Chances are I’ll never see this girl again. I used to be confident in my younger days but now I am like pft. I could have asked any one of my four lady friends at the table to approach her and I am sure they would have. Heck they offered. I denied. I think in my mind because of all the emotional upheaval I experienced from girl number two above, I don’t want to know the truth about this waitress. In my mind she is perfection she is everything girl number two was without the horrible pathological liar part. In my mind this one will stay pure. This one will be forever framed in my mind of her awesomeness for that one great meal with my friends. I wont look back at the wasted time and lost trust with this waitress.

Don’t get me wrong, I Facebook stalked the restaurants page trying to find her two blocks after leaving the place yesterday. No luck. If I run into her again somewhere, somehow, I’ll make my move if favorable conditions exist. But I know what reality is, and generally theres that Karma thing too. I accept everything and live by my choices. Sure there is the what if’s and I may never knows but no matter what yesterday and today perfect waitress girl proves to me again, you just never know what may happen. Until it does thank you waitress girl.

Well that was my weekend. Emotionally it was busy, experiencing loss and love but in the end no matter what happens with friends and family by your side, there is always, hope.

Let ‘er rip, tater chips,
Semper Fi.


Mother mother
Tell your children not to walk my way 
Tell your children not to hear my words 
What they mean 
What they say 
Mother -Danzig

Another Monday, another week. We’ve been here before we’ll meet again. An interesting past week. I’ll touch on key points that have been floating around in my head, but I warn some may seen disjointed and not well thought out. I tend to hash these things out when fingers hit keys.

As most know it was mothers day yesterday. I hit the grocery store, grabbed a few racks of ribs a dozen roses and went over and cooked a meal for my mom. Told her I love and appreciate her then we ate and were merry.

As I get older I realize more and more the sacrifices parents make for their children. I realize the true meaning of family and ultimately what real love means. No one is perfect. No family is perfect. Sure there are those that give the impression of perfection, but no matter what we are all flawed. We all have some sort of family idiosyncrasies that are our own. The weird brother, aunt, mother or pain in the ass wont shut up cousin, but in the end that weirdness or blemish is what makes up the family. Its how you accept, look past and deal with it that defines you. We all fail at something at some time in life, but its how you move forward or accept the failing that defines you. If you do the best with what you have and in the end accept others as they may be while still standing with them then I pretty much think you got things in the right lane.

A friend of mine lost her mother about a week ago. Age and failing health which is nothing spectacular or avoidable seem to be cause.  No matter the circumstances having to say goodbye to a mother or parent can never be easy. This year while being able to enjoy my mother on this mothers day, my thoughts were at times elsewhere trying to understand and think about when I will not be able to share these times with her. While its not a pleasant thought it is a fact of life we all have to deal with sooner or later. I don’t take for granted the time I have with my mother, or the fact of the sacrifices she and my father have made for the family but I realize more with each passing day, not to wait. Not to wait to tell someone you love them, wait to take someone out to lunch, wait to tell someone you fucked up, or they are wrong, or simply wait to go see and stand/sit by someone. I know I have work to do.

So Amy while this may be a tough and agonizing time for you, know that your example of the love you have for your mother has had a most positive affect on someone else who has room to improve and realizes that no matter what time we are given with family its never enough in the end. Much love to you.

Lets reverse gears a little.

Ten years ago in the Cleveland area some young girls go missing. It turns out a school bus driver had kidnapped these children, and basically imprisoned them in his Cleveland home the entire time. As you may imagine, there was rape, abortion, a child conceived and other associated trauma.  A neighbor last week hears screams from the house, calls police, gets door open and finds the missing kids whom are now young ladies. Makes a few tv interviews, reports his love for McDonalds and the rest is history.

The man who kidnapped the kids and fathered the child with one of the hostages along with his two brothers who were in the house with him were arrested. The two brothers were subsequently freed and determined not to be involved in this heinous act within 48 hours of the discovery of the crime.

Now think about this for a second. The same police and the same district attorney who couldn’t find these kids for ten goddamn years right under their noses, within 48 hours determine the two brothers of the man who did confess to the crime had nothing to do with or knew anything about it. This doesn’t pass the bullshit sniff test to me.

Could someone tell me how in the hell you go see your brother, live with your brother, or even know you have a brother for ten years, and not know he has three white girls stashed in his attic, bedroom, basement? Oh yeah part of the time one or all of them pregnant and making and aborting babies? Oh yea your brother is a latin dirtbag bus driver and the kids are predominately white caucasian teen girls. What excuses and bullshit does your brother tell you to explain this kind of shit? How does a brother hide this from family for ten years if the other brothers had no clue it was going on?

It took one black McDonald’s hamburger loving man to see the white girl in the house, know the dirty latin bus driver lived there and know shit was messed up within twenty seconds and call police. How did the brothers not catch on for ten f’ing years?

I may get over to see my brother once a month at his house. Its about the same for him with me. However if either of us showed up at each others home and couldn’t tell I had three Haitian kids living with me or did know he wouldn’t buy my line of shit that I adopted them or started running some exchange student program.  He’d turn my ass into police within an hour.

In the end I know one thing for sure. The Obama administration loves this story. Not because the kids were found safe. Not because were going to find out just how truly the Cleveland police are a bunch of incompetent cockknockers. No sir. The administration loves this story because the liberal mainstream media will eat this shit up. It’s drawing attention away from how the highest offices of our federal government covered up the Benghazi attack, essentially sacrificed four american lives, lies about the entire thing and keeps the truth from the American people who put them in office. That and the little story about the IRS admitting targeting any political action group looking for tax exempt status with the words “Tea Party or Patriots” in the name of the group. Oh yea or any group associated with maintaining the constitution or bill of rights. You know something totally fucking illegal to the core of what this country has been founded on.

So thats about it. Interesting times or strange times we find ourselves living in depending on  how you look at things.

Let ‘er rip tater chips!

Renegades of Funk

sunIts been a long strange week. Strange in that I cant quite figure out what is in that air but there is some Tomfoolery about. I think. Maybe. Sort of.

Its the feels like it is the Springtime of my lovin’ the second season I am to know oh oh oh…sorry Led Zeppelin moment there. Yes its like this each spring. Most complain that the only thing Florida lacks is clear delineated seasons. Most will claim we have two seasons down here. Hot and hot/wet and for the most part that is accurate, but to me I could always tell when it was spring. Not so much weather-wise but more a state of mind.

In my case springtime is a few short weeks before summer or what we call “the rest of the year.” I always know its spring when I travel up and down the roads in the interior parts of the state. You can smell the orange blossoms from the groves. I cant explain the smell or compare it to anything other then industrial mechanics hand cleaner but in the air all around you.

As it turns out every time I have found myself either in car, truck or Harley roaring down the roads enjoying this smell and experience in the spring, I was either on my way to be with, recalling happy times of it, or imaging in my head what the next experience of “love” may be.

Why these benign thoughts and moods of love happen in spring, with orange blossom smells in the air, and me on the open road in some mechanical fashion happen I cant explain. They’re nice thoughts however and I look forward to them. Its not to say I only feel such emotion a mere three weeks each year, but its a time of year where all the planets and chi and aura and whatever other whacky things enter my house of awesome and I think specifically about love and what may be in the future and don’t particularly get nauseous or pissed about failed love of the past.

The before mentioned Tomfoolery of it all this time is that I think I am changing my thoughts on the subject of love. As we get older and have experiences in life we find out what works and what doesn’t in regards to love. For some time now I thought I knew what true love is, and generally speaking I am sure I have to common bases covered but I am beginning to rethink what it truly means. I used to look for it. I stopped. I rationalized when I looked for it all that I found was something disguised as love but not love I was willing to spend the rest of my life with. I figured the love I wanted will just happen naturally. I still believe in this notion but as I am getting older I am starting to second guess myself. Are my eyes still open? Am I paying attention? Have I drawn such an opinion and picture of love in my head  that everything right in front of me is passing by? Have I priced myself out of the market? All questions and internal dialogue on the subject of love I battle and debate. In the end I wonder if I accept this or relax my opinion on that would love come along any faster, or better?  Eventually the soundtrack of my life gets a little louder, Pearl Jam’s Black gets fast forwarded to some Zeppelin, I smell the orange blossoms in the air, and turn the throttle back on the Harley some more and for a short time again I am at ease and in love. Love with myself and happy with who I am, one day I’ll share it again with a lucky woman who thinks the same of me as I do of her.

Thank God for Orange Blossoms and Spring.

Let ‘er rip, tater chips!

Happy Almost New Year

JellyBeansEveryone feeling fat and happy? I hope the holidays and Santa were kind to you, the faithful reader. I have no reports of domestic violence or homicide so I can only assume everyone got along with their families and enjoyed each others company. It was quiet and low key here which is the way we like it. When Christmas falls in the middle of the week, unless you take the entire week off as most people do, you really cant or at least I can’t seem to get too into the old Christmas spirit.

I got jelly beans for Christmas.

As another year comes to an end I have been reflecting and thinking about the new year to come. Everyones making new year resolutions, wanting to change this thing or that situation. I really don’t have anything special I want to do differently. I try and live life to the best of my ability. Sometimes my best may not be much, and circumstances in my control and not  in my control may dictate otherwise, but I really try and make the best of what comes my way. What’s the point otherwise? Is there things I want to change? Sure there are. I wish I was better looking with a smaller penis, but guess what? I can’t change those things with which I was born. So I might as well make due with the circumstances as best I can. Right?

What about eating more healthy? Ok sure. If by healthy one means the food I enjoy eating isnt made in some Chinese factory with lead paint and child slave labor pee’ing plutonium into the food, sure. I’ll eat more healthy by not buying that crap. I’ll just make it myself without the lead paint and plutonium pee. Easy enough.

I guess what I am trying to say in a less then articulate way, is if I have a resolution it is simple. Keep on living life without regret. Life’s not going to be perfect and frankly sometimes it may outright suck. I’ll make more mistakes, I’ll live, learn and keep moving forward, but I’ll do it in a way that makes me happy. Oh and if being assholish makes you happy, don’t intentionally hurt anyone else. Its a pretty simple theory.

I had a good conversation with a friend over lunch the other day. Some people grow up, bust their ass every day all day and then go home at night to do it all over again the next day. The predominant thought is once you get to retirement or old age etc, you’ve worked your whole life to enjoy the end of it. You know what I say to that? WTF? Why? By the time I can retire, I’ll be half dead, blind, shitting my pants trying to screw cute nursing home staff in broom closets. Thats not something to aspire to with hard work and a miserable life in the salt mines. I am going to do all that anyway. If I make it that long and get there of course. I say, within reason and good sense, live life now! Enjoy it while you can. You can cross the street tomorrow and get wiped out by an idiot driving a bus, lightning strike, cancer or any number of things. Then what? Its too late. When its time to go and leave this earthly existence, we aren’t taking anything with us. What you got in the end is what you’ve done up to that moment.

Resolve to enjoy your life everyday. Even when it sucks, you have to admit its pretty damn good. I have been fortunate in my life so far to travel this world, see other people and cultures, kill some of them, and come home in one piece to know its pretty nice here. I am going to enjoy it as much as I can every day, not just the last few.

No regrets. Do no harm unless its harm to ensure your own happiness and welfare. If the end is tomorrow or in another fifty years, I know I’ll be able to look my higher power, or god, or unicorn rainbow bunnies in the face and say, “I anted up, played the hand I was dealt and left it all on the table when it was time.” I think thats the best you can wish for in any life.

You accomplish all those things, and you get lucky enough to add the love of family, friends, and a good dog in the mix and you my friend are a king among kings.

Let ‘er rip, tater chip!

So long weekend we hardly knew you.

As I sit here with mixed emotions pondering the weekend, I guess I have to say it was a good one. Well they are always good, just go by too fast which we have discussed previously.

Sunday I awoke to a small “Cool Front” here in sunny Florida. Cool is 77 degrees and humidity below 85 percent. Below 74 degrees and its freezing and I start swearing. It was like 69 degrees at 6:30 am Sunday. I headed for the central heat. Relax. I didn’t turn it on.

I did fire up the oven and make some cinnamon rolls though. I felt rather re-newed and in a fall-ish mood so figured what the hell. Facebooked my intentions for baking, and had some friends over to help me eat the goodness.

I put the recipe over in the recipe section.

Guys if you can change your own oil, fix a flat tire, and replace a burnt out light bulb, you can bake these. Now I know, you’re saying, “why the hell make those when I can buy them in the grocery store and be done in 30 minutes or less”? I’ll tell you why. It’s because these are better. They will always be better, and now listen to me closely. If you make these for say your wife or girlfriend you will score major points. Remember the pancakes and waffles I showed you a few weeks back? Same thing here. A woman will love you long time if you take a turn and cook for her once in a while. Sure you can impress her with some Pillsbury tube rolls from the dairy section. She’ll be so proud of you for making the effort. If you makes these from scratch and put in the little extra effort the rewards will be increased by a factor of say eight or nine. You are moving into well lets just say your moving into Corvettes and Harley Davidson territory and the other private things you only get on your birthdays. Ok maybe not, but it cleans up your “punk card” and puts credit in the bank for later screw up.

Yesterday afternoon I caught some football at a local joint with friends. I ate some wings and watched the Jets loose to the Patriots. I have been a Jets fan for many years but I am about the throw in the towel on Sanchez. I can put up with Rex Ryan’s fat ass.  The Tebow mania doesn’t bother me. That bumbling idiot Sanchez is getting on my nerves. Its understandable if Sanchez doesn’t have the necessary protection on the offensive line, but for Christ’s sake, if he needs to unload the ball 10 yards or less in a hurry he’s like a retarded moron. How can a NFL quarterback fire a ball 30 yards like a bullet but cant get it 10 feet when he’s under rush pressure? Then when the damn fool hangs on to the ball when he is in trouble, he can’t hang on to the thing and hit the ground without it popping into the opponents hands. It was hard to see them loose to New England last night. That should have been a win. Oh well. What are you going to do? Well I know what I would do. I would have Tebow’s ass throwing the ball 1500 times a day until he developed that arm into NFL material then tell him to put his magic Jesus underwear on and start him.

Speaking of Jesus and whatnot, yesterday I learned something. There are churches that have “love offerings” during the service. I also learned that certain people who may or may not attend these churches that have “love offerings” also have rather twisted and foul thoughts regarding certain acts of love. Now I am not purposely trying to be cryptic here because frankly I only got a portion of the conversation. The point is sometimes you hear the strangest things from some of the people whom you’d never expect to hear such things from. I almost blushed, in fact I may have. I cant say for certain if what this person was talking about and the love offerings at this particular church are connected, but I most certainly asked more about the church. I may need to get some of this churching in that my friend seems to be involved in. Im just saying. I’ll report back on this topic as I learn more.

Try and have a good Monday.

Let’er rip tater chip!

When tragedy befalls you, don’t let it drag you down

Love can cure your problems,
You’re so lucky I am around. 

I havent been fortunate enough to have any children of my own yet so the closest comparison I can relate to are my dogs. They have been as much my children to me as a kid is to a parent I venture to guess. Its with that understanding I relate this story.

Recently I got news of an old friend of mine whom tragedy of the worst kind has befallen. The hows and whys are not important but I’ll tell you when I say the worst kind, yea worst kind. A parent having to burry a child. Even though in this case it was a step child, but knowing this person it hardly would have mattered to her. This person was always an open hearted type woman that seemed to like or at least give everyone a fair chance so biological or step child probably had no real distinction to her anyway.

When I heard the news, of course you go through the emotions of loss and heartache for that person. I couldn’t help but think about my Golden Retriever, Lucille whom I lost this summer to cancer/tumor at only four and a half years old.

I can’t remember my parents or brothers birthdays without looking it up somewhere. I cant remember anniversaries, valentines day (any wonder I dont have kids?). I know my own birthday and the Marine Corps birthday. I also know June 11, 2012.

On June 11th of this year, after dropping my sick dog off to a veterinarian for emergency surgery I got “That” call.

Mr. Kingston we got her on the table and opened her up and it was bad. I worked as fast as I could to fix her up, the mass on her spleen was large. I got it all out, but due to the blood loss and anemia her heart was going a million miles an hour. She arrested just as I was finishing up. We got some meds into her and I got her heart re-started once. Five minutes later she arrested again and nothing I could do would get her going again. I’m so sorry.

That was it. That was all I had left of Lucille. I think I held it together long enough to thank the doctor for trying and hung up the phone. I ah, yea, I collapsed after that and the rest of the day is gone from my memory.

Parenthetically sure Lucille was my “child”. What the hell was I going to do now? I know those deep horrible feelings of loss. I felt horrible for my friend Gabrielle. This wasn’t a pet for her, this was a child. If I felt that way over a dog, a pet, how can you quantify that when its another person? Its not so hard for me. My pets have always been my kids. Maybe if I have a kid one day I’ll see the difference, but I somehow doubt it. So in a way, I know where my friend Gabrielle and her family is right, now. It’s shit.

But I also know something else. Something else I am certain Gabrielle will later get to feel too.

You see after an amount of time, that only you know the amount of, “love” comes back through your door. Love from your family, friends, your pets you lost, and the people you may have lost. That love and time, fixes everything and shines the light of perspective back into your life. All you have to do is let it in.

I volunteer a few hours a week at an animal shelter for an obligation for me and for Lucille. I rescued a dog from that shelter that I connected with. This is how the love I had for Lucille has manifested itself back into my life. The work is sometimes gross and a pain, but I come home and see Lucas jump on a particular couch and look out the window, just like a certain Golden Retriever did her entire life and I know what I am doing and the path I am on is the right one. That is my love.

I have cursed god, cursed doctors, cursed luck, cursed myself, cursed everything over the loss of Lucille. I needed to curse all those things. I needed the time to curse all those things. Now, I am done.

I got plenty of love back in my life and thats good enough. When i see Lucille and Jasper again with Lucas and whatever other four legged children I may have in my life, I’ll be a bigger baller that that bastard Cesar Millan, and I wont be whispering shit with my pack. We’ll be running and swimming with War Pigs turned up to fucking 11.

Gabrielle, If you read this, I miss you and I love you. Be strong and you got this!

A feel good Monday. You want to read this one.

We all know the routine. Back to work Mondays and how they suck. Weekend goes by too fast. Etcetera Etcetera.

Today however, I am going to bring your attention to something. This should make you forget for a minute how bad we dread Mondays.

Most of you should have seen this by now. If you haven’t then take a look see. This collection of photos Titled “A Love Story in 22 Pictures” has been and continues to accelerate to warp factor viral.

A Love Story in 22 Pictures

Taylor Morris was is a Navy EOD technician. In January of this year he deployed to Afghanistan. In May, while performing his duties the worst thing an EOD tech can possibly think about happened. When I was in the Marine Corps I had the chance to work with a few Marine Corps EOD techs. (We have them too). I can tell you it takes a special breed of man to do that particular job. I should probably back up and explain what an EOD technician actually is for the common reader. EOD stands for Explosive Ordinance Disposal. Taylor’s job was to run around Afghanistan and diffuse bombs, booby traps, roadside improvised bombs and traps. In May of this year, one got him. As you can see from the above pictures, Taylor went in harms way for his country, (me and you) and for doing so his bill came to both his legs, his arm, and his hand.

Brock what is special about Taylor? Unfortunately Taylor isn’t the first to pay such a debt. Taylor also hasn’t paid the ultimate debt as others before him and others after him have had to pay.

I’ll tell you what is special about Taylor to me. Meet Danielle.






Danielle is Taylor’s girlfriend.

I don’t know everything about everything. I do know a little bit about some things. This right here folks is pure unadulterated one of a kind true honest to god love. Plain and simple. I can tell you from a personal perspective as one who has gone in harms way like Taylor the fears of getting hurt or maimed. I can tell you about the fears of putting those stresses on your loved ones and family. I could tell you about friends of mine getting hurt while in harms way during service to our country and seeing the stresses it puts on loved ones and families and watching relationships fail. Not today. Today I show you what real love is.

Did anyone do the math yet? Taylor was only injured in May of this year. FOUR months. By the way, Taylor and Danielle went home to Iowa for a friends wedding recently.

Semper Fidelis Taylor and Danielle.

If you want to learn more about Taylor and Danielle you can check out his site at:

Taylor Morris Story

Facebook page:

Taylor Morris Facebook page

There are lots of guys and some girls that went into combat and paid the ultimate price. There’s even more that paid with a part of their body much like Taylor has. What the press rarely shows or tells us about is the price the family and loved ones pay. Danielle is a special woman and I’ll forever be thankful and jealous of Taylor.

Everything has a price. Whether one can quantify it or not I think is up to the individual. The love Danielle must have for Taylor? I can’t answer that and only speculate. I can however tell you what I would happily give for that love if I ever find it. Can you?

Mondays suck. This one, not so much. Thank you Taylor and Danielle.