Wednesday, February 24, 2016


(Ted Cruz looks like a greasy television evangalist.)

Yesterday, I prepared chicken for dinner. I cooked the bird using liberal amounts of salt and grease. My eldest son raved about the flavor. He ate every last morsel on his plate. I'm the king of poultry. I washed the vittles down with several glasses of generic cola. I'm a broke dead dick, so I can't afford the good stuff.

I watched several episodes of Reign. The show focuses on the teenage life of Mary Queen of Scots. The actors look magnificent. The boys are handsome, and the girls are beautiful. Mary has just learned that her husband the king will soon die. She cries and cries and cries. Finally, she agrees to form a future marital union with the king's younger brother. I really enjoy Reign. Perhaps I'm half-a-fag.

I paid homage to the Christ God. I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees. No big surprise. I'm not some dirty pagan. I thanked The Savior for my many blessings. I still have all of my hair and most of my teeth. Not many men my age can make that same boast. Plus my children are healthy and get to drink non-contaminated water. Who could ask for more? I'm just grateful that I wasn't born in Flint, Michigan.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream. I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break. A Korean in Peru fell to his death from the 11th floor of an apartment building. The police found bullet wounds in his legs. They suspect foul play. Two other Koreans are being detained for questioning.

I turned on CNN. I enjoy the network more and more every day. Trump's attacking Cruz for his dishonesty. He called the senator the worst liar he has ever seen. The Donald also claims that Ted's a psychologically impaired human being. Cruz isn't sick. He just plays fast and loose with the truth like most politicians. He reminds me of a greasy television evangalist.

Anyway, I've shot my load. So long for now, and God bless everybody.


  1. good on you re: about the not lighting up with the smokes, notwithstanding dreaming about same.

    singing is a way to not be smoking also, or else you could look into drumming because of the hands are involved in the percussions and that is one way the tobacco doesn't get itself lit.

    if you have an assistant though, maybe you could still be drumming whilst the other person is placing the cinder-maker in your breathing aperture, so maybe you have to be drumming alone without the assistant, that includes robots also.

    here's wimeweh

    peace for stopping by.

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