I may not get to see the ball drop tonight, but it’s not like I ain’t seen it before. You know why that ball goes so low? Well, it’s older’en me, That’s why. Gravity and all that. Actually heard of a kid or two that witnessed it(the ball drop) on a day other than this and were over joyed at the resulting matchin’ pair. I’m a tired ol’ fuck, and I’m goin’ to bed, soon as that crazy bastard in Vegas tries to jump a football field on a motor cycle. Stupid is as stupid does, but I reckon’ everybody has their price. Some are just too dumb to know they won’t live to spend it.

Hell, I may not even see it live, I might hit the record it computer button, and watch that fella get mangled first thing in the mornin’ over a hot cup of coffee, or a cold beer, dependin’ on what I wake up with. Either way, Happy New Year asshole… Have fun spendin’ the next year healin’. Where’ve I heard that one before? The asshole part I mean.

If you got here lookin’ for double ott butt shot from a couple years back, here you go and happy new year. If you got here by mistake, you’re probably lost, welcome anyway, it sucks to be you, Happy New Year anyway, y’all come back now y’hear, and if you got here ’cause you meant to… Gawd love ya, Happy New Year to each and everyone of y’all. You’re my friends, and I love you back.

bbbbbb-bad, bbbbb-bad, bad to the bot.

Apparently, there’s some asshole impersonator with a “bot” that ain’t got nothin’ better to do than lie, pick scabs, stir the shit, and piss people off. That’s why nobody noticed it was here, and why it took so long to weed it out. Low profile fucker it was. That thang better step off. Thats my job now damnit! Liein’, pickin’, pissin’, and stirrin’… you gotta get schoolin’ for that. I’ve been schooled. It probably ain’t even a union thang. I ain’t bein’ replaced by no damned ro-bot… yeah, 2 syllables, hence the hypen.

Maybe next year Santa will bring me a pole, so I can get me some dancers… kinda like Cat get’s chickens… Half a dozen at the time wouldn’t be bad.

That they’ll love nawin’ on… Check it. And this, from the home town fish wrap, of all rags. Traitor.

I’ve got to admit… I’ve been doin’ a shitload of TV watchin’ lately. I love bowl season. Game after game after game, day after day after day… Meatchicken state f’d up yesterday… they just gave that one away. All they had to do was quit givin’ the other team the damned football every offensive series… Hell, their defense got so freakin’ tired, they even got a pick or two so they could rest, but those ‘tarded offensive players give it right back… lazy bastid’s…

Figure’s the fucker that wrote it is from Tennessee.

When you look up Jack Youngblood on yousetube all you get is this… somethin’s wrong. Jack was a bad ass white boy. I attended his induction into the hall of fame. In Canton Ohio. Hmmm, wonder why the hall is where it is? SEC’ers.

That boy of mine dragged this mangy six toed freak home from got knows where… I am not a cat person, but, I gotta admit, the little bastard’s got some ‘tude now… He don’t back off the boy’s no more, and I think he delights his bad assed self by lurin’ them in to low overhanging objects such as tables, chairs… you get my meanin’.

You can’t really see it in this picture, but, he does have six appendages per front foot… The boy calls him Max. I call him Sixfoot…