(Saul Alvarez is a bad ass.)
Yesterday, I walked to church. It was a five mile jaunt. But I'm not complaining. I need the exercise. Poor old Smith is a fat man with a pot belly and corroded choppers. I'm a mess. When I look at myself naked in the mirror, I often cry like a woman. Perhaps I should join a gym. Sadly, however, I can't see the point. It's a losing battle. I'd rather eat pretzels.
The Sunday service is held in a bar/restaurant. We tend to sing a lot. A bearded dude from Texas strums the guitar while his wife croons the hymns. We also have a bongo player and a keyboardist. It's all very hip and contemporary. I'm an uptight aging white guy. So I just mouth the words and pretend to dance. Nobody seems to notice my lack of enthusiasm.
I took the family to a restaurant for pizza. The food was quite good. The Children of the Rice eat a lot of grub. The amount of money I spend on vittles is atrocious. Talk about scary. We don't have two nickels to rub together. In fact, I might have to sell my pretty ass in order to cover the monthly nut. Times are that hard.
We went to the cinema and watched Twelve Years a Slave. What a depressing film. The Dragon Lady couldn't stop sobbing. The protagonist is beaten, hanged, ridiculed, and then beaten some more just for kicks. One of his lady friends is separated from her children. Another of his lady friends is whipped within an inch of her life over a bar of soap. The theme of the movie? White people suck giant ass.
We returned to our Soviet-style concrete tenement. I downloaded the Canelo Alvarez fight. Alvarez spent ten rounds beating the living shit out of a fighter named Alfredo Angulo. I really thought he was going to end up killing the guy. Thankfully, the ref stopped the bout before Angulo was seriously injured. The crowd booed.
Anyway, it's time for the song of the day. Here's Mr. Crowley by Ozzy Osbourne. God bless.