M = 1000
This is entry ONE THOUSAND and if you think this is NOT an accomplishment, GET LOST !!
I’d like to Thank Emma for being there since Day One providing corrections, my Mom and Dad for all the tools to be a resounding success, my children who each continue to amaze and amuse, you are AWESOME.
TO the many Friends, Taylor Swift for NOT calling back, Lara Lynn for superseding Taylor as a singer, songwriter and performer AND she’s a Mom. I won’t be calling her.
To The Pulp and all the common people that have gotten me this far. The Bladerunners, Chiefs, Storm and the Senators that got me started.
BEEP, beep beep … TIMES UP Home boy !
Check out this good newslink …
IF you are looking for a new, better reason to dump Fauci, VOTE for Trump …
AS PROMISED, here is the Tease, THE Dangling Carrot …
With entry 1000* (M) on wix aka now the old testament, and building a similar mountain on substack, the new Plan calls for doing both vehicles for a bit longer like maybe 100 or so on wix and slowly, gently phasing out or dropping off. But right now wix has some nice tools and cool metrics I kind of like and are useful that I am not seeing yet on substack.
I will be digging deep as in The Archives for recalls of material on that particular date in time so not to run out of material if THAT was ever a concern.
But before and to continue, a shameless promotion and COMMERCIAL …
WHY SUBSCRIBE ?
GREAT Question. I’ll tell you.
My goal from the beginning was turn a profit on a gradual and sustainable slope OR trajectory.
This is NOT to be confused with a Mission Statement. The intent is to poke some fun at, have some fun with and see the more humorous side of life, news, nonsense and confusion(s) that is reaching epic proportions and epidemic levels in both our society and world today. As we speak, REAL time.
Mrs Spinelli would probably call this a run-on sentence. Perhaps.
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***
Bill goes gumshoe for shamus sake …
I get a lot of invitations to parties and functions but go only when the planets and stars duly align. Even then I'll coax FE my faithful, loyal & trusted admin to tag along first promising a good time but more often than not the host/hostess is not accommodating enough to guarantee the thrill portion.
Rarer still will I go solo.
The overwhelming perception and intense sensation of being a predator usually turns things around. I had gotten familiar with it over those few times and was comfortable not looking at the lustful scanner or using my Lone Wolf GPS tracker.
That was tonight. I missed FE.
I had the glass flask of Makers on the hip and I doctored the first Coca-Cola and nursed it with intensive care IOW carefully.
The party ratcheted up exponentially… when … she walked in.
Red hair as best I could tell in the fading daylight and she moved somewhere like between a ballerina and a matador. She got my attention but the party mode of the LoneWolf GPS algorithm quickly dismissed this one as taken and to forget about it which I was able to do with practiced discipline and woeful experience.
One problem I discovered with this m.o. was sometimes with broads there was a strong magnetism like magnets snapping together.
Like the time at Spec’s when the total was $17.76. I quipped with the flirty cashier that that was a good year.
After a quick moment for thought, she agreed, ‘It was a great year’. I fell for that one and hard. Of course nothing would come of it but that moment was like a night in the sack. Sometimes a strong, vivid imagination trumps reality.
Tonight I thought I had successfully dismissed this stunner and thoughts drifted and returned again to FE.
I found myself at the makeshift bar again slowly taking first the ice, slipping the glass flask out after making sure no one was looking, I added a splash over the rocks and deftly put it away. I deliberately reached for the Coca-cola to innocently top off the Solo cup and then the velvet voice from behind.
‘You got enough of that to go around?’ It as a purr. A deep purr as I turned, stunned and flabbergasted.
FE … EFG …HIJK … LMN … Oh !!
In my mind, I was babbling, stumbling, collecting words and thoughts, scrambling forming a quick witty reply. Check that, TRYING TO.
She was the complete package. I heard my Dad and his golfing buddies talk about a brick shithouse and I never really knew what a brick shithouse was nor the meaning. Suddenly, it all made sense. I was staring down the barrel of a brick shithouse.
‘Sure’. I pulled out the Makers, her cup was at the ready, ice, iced baby. I was liking this girl already and suddenly forgot about FE.
Splashing a generous pour over the melting cubes, I fell into the deep green pools of her eyes.
I said a quick prayer. I didn’t know why, to who, for what or why but it seemed like the thing to do at that moment in time.
‘Thanks.’ as she raised the plastic cup to her beige-tinted lips as if to say dya vashego zdorov'ya.
Was this too good to be true or what?
‘Most guys would have introduced themselves by now.’ As she took a second sip this one longer, slower and deeper.
‘W. The symbol. William. Bill’s fine. … just the first initial. Not DUB-ya but DOUBLE you.’
She smiled wryly at his awkward shyness.
My turn for the deep sip. I didn’t know where this was going but was kind of sparked to find out.
‘Kapps. My friends call me Bold …’ she held out her hand.
…to be continued …
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