Sunday, September 13, 2015


(Darren Goforth was murdered by a deranged black man.)

Yesterday, I prepared fried chicken for dinner.  Once again, the meal was a complete success.  My eldest boy ate every last morsel and praised me to the heavens.  Poultry is quickly becoming my specialty.  I washed the vittles down with two bottles of Jinro soju. The experience was divine.

I watched two episodes of Blunt Talk.  The show's absolutely marvelous.  Major Blunt has a man servant named Harry who is blessed with a horse-cock. Therefore, the Major loves to paint him in the buff.  The results are hilarious.  The well-hung butler is recruited to star in a porno film.  Unfortunately, sex makes him feel creepy. He's much happier when he's abusing drugs and alcohol. Blunt Talk is piss-your-pants funny.  Anyone who refuses to watch the series should be hanged by the neck until dead.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty heathen.  I thanked Jesus for the many gifts he has bestowed upon me. For instance, I look wonderful in a suit.  Not many men my age can make that boast.  Plus I'm also gifted at preparing poultry.  Who could ask for more?

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  There was a Police Lives Matter march in Houston.  A sheriff named Darren Goforth was savagely murdered by a mentally deranged African-American.  You never hear Al Sharpton bitching about minority crime.  But let's be honest.  The black community's out of control.  Don't shoot the messenger.  I'm simply telling the truth.

I went to church.  The sermon focused on Ephesians.  Now that the Holy Spirit has come into my life, I should show proof of change. I really believe in my heart that my life has been transformed by God. Nevertheless, I'm still a son-of-a-bitch.  For instance, I like to drink from time to time.  Plus I miss cigarettes.  I try to remain positive by looking at myself as a work in progress.

I read the paper later in the day.  A Korean army sergeant was killed by a live grenade in Taegu.  He was training recruits at the time.  There are so many ways to die.  Explosions, gunshots, cancer, diabetes, falling off a cliff, getting hit by a bus, etc.  The best thing to do is spend your short life quivering with fear. It works for me.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's You Never Called Me by David Allen Coe.  God bless.     


  1. Nice to find your blog again, Smith. I lost track of you for awhile, but just recently found your site again. Best wishes from Seattle.

    1. Thanks for the kind words. I'm glad you're back.



Thanks for stopping by. Smith.