I was a loser who didn’t seek a real job until I was 25, and didn’t get my shit together and move out until I was 30, but despite all that my dad always loved me and never so much as pushed me. Gentle encouragement from time to time, but always just glad to have his boy around. I live in a different country with my wife now. I have a beautiful daughter and a decent, stable job. We flew my dad out a few years ago and I’ve never seen him so proud of what I’ve become. He loved my daughter so much. We took him out to the Canadian Rockies. That trip meant the world to him.

He had a heart attack and died two years ago.

As tragic as it all is, I watched the emotional shit he went through over the way his father raised him, and his father’s suicide when I was too young to remember, and he made it a point to make sure I never had to wonder if he loved me or was proud of me. He was.

I hope his soul is flying through the universe somewhere and has seen how much my daughter has grown, and has seen my awesome new house. I sprinkle his ashes around my flower gardens every spring just to keep him around. I hope he’s around.

Love you, dad.

Nice pair of jeans, though…

Was Ernest okay?

Thank you! Genuinely, that means a lot to hear. I’ve never heard anyone compliment my prose, but it’s something I value a lot in other literature, and have a hard time getting into novels that are lacking it.

I’ve been wanting/trying to write a fiction book for years, but I have a horrible habit of knocking out a few pages and then getting into my own head and picking apart my work. I’ll end up reworking it sentence by sentence until I hate whatever’s left. Your nice comment makes me want to try again. All the best to you!

My kid is the only one in the cul-de-sac with Minecraft. We have quite the popular couch this month.

I have a little crush on that chick from the upcoming Fable game, but everyone just passes around that awful still of her with one eyebrow cocked and her teeth half showing, and shits all over her appearance. I think she’s cute as hell. Like… for real.

Can confirm. I moved from the US to Canada nearly ten years ago, and it’s been approximately that long since I found a cop’s presence intimidating. I don’t ever feel like the RCs are out to get me.

I’m with you on this one. I don’t support the corrupt/abusive actions of many police, but people who bitch and moan about being targeted for speeding and/or driving like assholes fucking deserve it. Now sure, getting popped for going just slightly over is garbage, but those aren’t the drivers or the incidents I’m talking about. There’s a weird sentiment among a lot of drivers that traffic laws are just arbritray and optional. I will always cheer for police who catch the worst of them, and I wish it happened more often.

Thanks! Very kind of you to say.

Ah, the old Coon Hill Rd. special. Grew up near a wooded country road that was full of trash like this. People apparently came from all around the township to dump their trash and furniture up and down this road, and the county never bothered to clean it up. My family was never down with that, but my dad used to catch possums in his livetraps and relocate them on this exact road. I guess he didn’t know how beneficial it was to have possums around. Coon Hill may have been lined with trash, but it was likely 100% tick free.

I had to do a school project once where we took disposal cameras and snapped photos of things that we found beautiful, and things we found ugly. I knocked out almost all of the ugly ones just on Coon Hill, but I did snap a few beautiful ones off the beaten path a bit. It was in the dead of winter and mostly snow and rotting vegetation, but beautiful enough at the right time of day. There was a duality down Coon Hill.

I swear I wasn’t a redneck, but it sure sounds like it.

Every now and then I just save the German memes and send them to my English group chats to make sure they’re confused too.

I love staring at a small, rusty, unassuming chimney and knowing it’s just sitting on top of the fucking Vatican.

I saw a video once of a giant centipede devouring a live mouse, and it still fucks with me every time I think of it. I still remember that mouse’s eyes.

Centipedes are the absolute worst of the worst in terms of disturbing insects. I can’t even look at one without my brain vividly simulating the way all of those crispy little legs would feel clinging along the length of my arm.

Birds don’t know shit about microphones.

Kyle is one of those names that don’t really kick in until age 12. Like, yeah, that baby is named Kyle. But it hasn’t kicked in yet.

My wife sometimes stops to compliment me because she knows men don’t often receive compliments. I always appreciate that.

Russian porn sites be like…

I used to contemplate jumping in the air, then quickly using my foot to spring upward off of my other leg/foot, and repeating that until I’ve reached a desired elevation.

Brought to you with love by Duncan Hills coffee!