Dedicated to Hairy & the Chump
The Whole Thang:
We ran and did exercises.
Overheard @ an F3 Metro Fishwrap Q
He kills men by the hundreds and can consume the English with fireballs from his eyes and bolts of lightning from his arse.
You’re thinking of William Wallace, dumbass.
My safe word is “You Got This.”
I like my Fish sashimi grade.
I hate you and am never talking to you ever again.
I’m a fitness model.
I am not a fitness model.
I thought he’d be bigger.
The Butt Crack:
The Video Back Blast is NOT a thing. It never has been. It never will be. Please stop.
The message you send:
I suck and don’t have the time (or time management skills or creative ability) to develop a simple idea in my head, an idea that I can later convert to words structured cohesively in a written format and used to commemorate an event.
- You do know that you’re allowed to think about your Back Blast before it’s actually time to write the backblast.
- You do know that you’re allowed to write it ahead of time, say the night before, when you do have time.
- You do know that the only thing you actually have to do after the workout is post the Back Blast.
Yes, you have to go through certain steps, a procedure to post it, but you can do all of that in a matter of minutes.
- You do know that NO ONE wants to watch ANY ONE drive a car around and rattle on about which PAX may or may not have been in attendance. You sound stupid when you do that.
This, friends, brothers and fans is abject failure, period. You have failed to develop an idea of any kind, whatsoever, on page or screen and have chosen instead to drive around aimlessly, recklessly, with nothing of value to share, show or say, nothing. You suck at this.
You ain’t Tony Soprano on the Jersey Turnpike. We don’t got no NYC cityscape. No Alabama 3 soundtrack.
You know what, I hate your dumb Video Back Blast so much that I wish I knew when and where you’d be doing it so that I could step out in front of your vehicle. I’d step in front of your moving vehicle and do a “Meet Joe Black” somersault over the hood and land in a twisted heap on the curb. Not dead, no sir, I’m still alive and when you come over to help me and see that it’s me, I’m a wreck, but conscious.
And you’re all like, “Crap dog toast, I killed Fishwrap!”
But I’m not dead, not yet. I look up, I can barely speak, but I can speak and you hear and understand every word I have to say and I say this:
“I’m not dead, you big DumbDumb, but dying. And you know what, you suck. You were shooting a video back blast weren’t you… I told you that was stupid. I’m not mad at you… just… disappointed.” Then I’d expire.
Yep. You killed Fishwrap. You’re responsible for killing Fishwrap.
You’ll be hated everywhere. For lack of good common sense, executing poorly constructed Back Blast AND killing Fishwrap.
So… maybe… try harder.
The Full Monty:
Gave this some thought over the Father’s Day “Holiday” while hangin’ with my girl, our babies and my in-laws. I was thinking about my dad. I talk about him periodically with my kids, share what I remember; neat stuff, a trip, his voice. He had a cool voice. I can’t recall much, like a dream that escapes when you wake up. You have flashes, seconds, a minute maybe of this or that, but not a lot of real linear time. He was sick and suffering for the better part of my life and it’s those memories that imprint on you; seizures, the hospital, things like that.
I do have one outstanding memory. Watching Halloween II with him. We had 4 channels back in those days and if you had HBO you were the shit. It may have been on regular television, but I remember HBO first coming out and that was a big deal and I remember watching that movie with him like it was yesterday. I would have been no older than 7.
So, here’s the thing: if my dad had better judgment I wouldn’t have that memory.
How did it affect me? Well, I too have poor parental judgment and watch all kinds of horror movies with my kids. So far, the kids are doing fine. Ain’t scared of nothin’.
My dad died a week shy of his 35th birthday on December 24, 1982. He had brain cancer.
I was 8. My brother was 11. My sister was 13. Same ages as my kids today.
I know that resonates with many of us. Hell, all of us. I can’t imagine.
I talk about him because I feel that if I’m not talking about him then it’s possible no one will be talking about him after I’m gone. That’s the reason. Not with you guys and not like this, but with those close to me. It’s something I want to do and should do. I never had a name for it. Then, I was reading this article about the importance of visiting and spending time in cemeteries, paying respect, getting quiet for reflection, whatever. In this article, the writer referred to it as the Second Death. Not the lake of fire Second Death that you’d read about in the Bible. It’s different. This Death occurs when there’s no one left here that remembers you. You’re gone, forever.
My paternal grandmother knows this. She just turned 93 and she gets emotional when we talk about him. I know she wants to talk about him and she knows that I like to hear about him, so we do that occasionally when together. It’s always been our thing. When I’m with her I can experience those moments with some objectivity and it’s powerful to watch a 93 year old woman grieve the loss of their child nearly 40 years later.
I don’t know. Maybe we wouldn’t have liked each other. Not much romance in that scenario. No, I like mine better.
So, I took the crew by Sharon Memorial Park this morning.
If you read this, I appreciate it. It took me awhile to write it and saved me well over $300.
Oh and I wrote it on Monday. For real. Because I knew I’d be too busy on Tuesday and Wednesday.
A few things to help you out:
- Call your dad. Love on your dad. Post with your Dad. If your dad does F3 and you’re not posting with him at least once a month shame on you. You’ll likely regret that.
- Watch a bunch of scary movies with your kids! They’re real people, they can handle it.
- Visit a cemetery. See if you like it. You’ll be there one day. Unless you want to be cremated. Then you’ll be scattered somewhere else.
Thanks for the opportunity, KC & Rhapsody. Enjoyed it!