Random ramblings from an amateur rock-n-roll historian and critic,self-professed bourbon aficionado, blackberry growin', jam makin', sometime tie-die shirt makin', ex hippie wannabe, turned punk rock lovein', blues festival going, middle aged pudgy bald white guy who loves to wear Hawaiian shirts in the summertime and happens to be more Stax than Motown, more Alman Brothers than Skynard, more Stones than Beatles, more NASCAR than Baseball, more freeware than license keys...
Sunday, August 20, 2017
That
voice?
Yeah, that one?
It said:
"It's in your power to stop this now if you want.'
I said:
"Deal."
It said:
"No more, no more mowing grass, no more washing cars, no more Sunday dinners without "her", no more worship without "her", no more, period. If they can't make a decision? Make one for them."
I said:
"Deal".
I'll eat ramen cooked with hot water at the gas station before I'll eat Sunday dinner there without you again. I'll fast if I have to. I'll start having a moving sale.I'll have a bonfire. Whatever I gotta do.
But this kinda nonsense about guilting people under knowingly false pretenses? That shits over. Forever.
I'm 52 years old. I don't have to explain anything to anybody if I don't feel like it. Deal with it.
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