Once again I am sitting outside, darkness broken only by the full moon in the sky. 

I am once again with my thoughts, 3:30 in the morning, good time to be with my thoughts, except when the chair I was sitting on decided to break, sending my ass to the hard concrete porch.

I have giving up, thinking about the government, as the old song goes, does not seem fair to think about them when they are not thinking about me.

It does not really matter what they do, they are going to keep screwing us until we screw back, with a sledge hammer to their head.

What really matters is what I am doing in this thing called life, even then, that only matters to a select group of people, and even then, they could care less.

If I were to die today, would anyone care?

I would hope so, at least a few, enough to warrant a funeral and a good wake, none of that crying though, I hate when people cry.

The wake I would want would be a gathering of folks, happy occasion, the liquor flowing freely along with a group of prostitutes I call friends mingling with my usual, “normal” group of friends, if they could be called normal, in the sense of the word.

The more I think about it, I have never had a ‘normal’ friend in my life. 

I’ve had the geeks, the freaks, the dealers, and the prostitutes.

Add the phone sex workers, the junkies, even a traitor or two to the ‘Government’.

You know the type --- “Give me liberty or give me death, you can have my guns when I can shove them up your ass unlubricated”.

The antique dealers, the sportsmen, and if I look close enough aliens.

But never a normal friend.

I guess someone would need to define normal. 

Is anyone normal?

Is anyone a straight and true arrow leading to even a sense of normal?

Even the ‘Good Christians’ who say they are normal don’t fit into the definition of normal. 

There is not a true normal.

What is normal for you and I might not be normal for someone else.

If you were the only sane person left in the world, wouldn’t that make you insane?

Possibly, maybe even a resounding yes, echoing through the hallways of the world.

I think I like writing outside, the only interruptions is the neighbor across the street came outside to smoke a cigarette, his mom lives with him and she is on oxygen or something.

Strangely, every so often, she will come out and have a cigarette as well.

During the cold nights, they do not stay out long, just long enough to get a drag, a puff, a cigarette in a life full of butts and then rush back inside.

If they spot me, they will wave. I wave back. Be a good neighbor.  If you do not know which of your neighbors is the crazy one is, you might be it.  

In my neighborhood, all of us are crazy, something in the water maybe!

The next-door neighbor’s friend left.

He waved.

Again, I returned the gesture, using all my fingers.

“What are you doing outside?” he says.

“Writing my usual stuff…”

“What about this time?”

“You waving!”

“Awesome…”

He gets into his truck and leaves, probably going to his job at the insurance company.  If you get a call from someone named Steve trying to sell you Apocalypse insurance, that is my neighbor’s friend, say hi from me.

My neighbor’s wife has come home after six months away.  She cheated on my neighbor with a ‘friend of a friend’, left one day saying, “I’m going out for cigarettes…”

Neighbor changed the locks and filed for divorce.  

He asked my wife if he should take his wife back, he and his wife were talking on the phone at night, she was crying, “It just took me a bit longer to get cigarettes then I thought, long lines…”

My wife was like, “It’s up to you, big decision…”

No, he did not ask me my thoughts on the whole thing, he knows my answer, tell the bitch to rot in hell with her cigarettes and diseased cocks.

Nevertheless, he took her back; the wife loves to park in front of my house.  I am back to my hobby of sticking nails under her tires!

She does have a nice ass.

Again, it is quiet, the sounds of a city far off in the distance, just enough to be noise.  It is better than sitting inside, a warm place, the TV on, because I would be watching the news, for some reason, at this early time, I like to watch the news.

There is never a good, happy story, like the old woman finding her poodle after 37 years. 

Yes, the poodle was dead, and in the back of her sewing room where a falling quilt trapped him but that is not the point.

Of course, today, Tuesday January 10, is a Cockinus or something in New Hampshire for the Republicans. 

They have had their weekend debates, two of them, one in the night for the old people who do not fall asleep till 11pm, like my dad, sometimes, if his pains keep him awake.

Then there was the early Sunday showing, a different debate.  Gingrich threw a good one two punch at Mitt; I laughed and then turned it off, and went to the zoo with my wife.

For some reason, the animals hold more interest to me than the political monsters who stroke their cocks and their egos all in a something to try to win a position so they can battle the dragon they presume is a dragon, If you read their websites, a horrible beast we’ve got in a white house in Washington D.C.

A monster who would slew us if it was not for the knights in rusting armor in the House that Corporate Sponsorship built.

Again, does it matter what they do? 

Does it matter what I do?

Somewhere out there, some folks read my shit.  I still write shit, it feels good to write.

Politics, sodomy, goat herders in Guam, dirty women in Fargo writing love notes to the imaginary people out in Hollywood, all good fun.

Still shit.

I do get some hits from some major news agencies, those actually scare me. 

“In the news today, fucking the decaying ass of Ronald Reagan, Britney Spears wrote a love song to Lady Gaga, stating, ‘I was born this way…Film at 11!”

I can see an editor for the Washington Daily Ass going, “Has this been verified!!!? CAN WE RUN IT!?”

The reply “We found it on the Internet!!! Some blog…”

“That’s good enough for me!!!”

On Entertainment Tonight, the story becomes the truth.

Nowadays, it seems to be beyond easy to make a news story.  Add some ‘words’ and the media, if the story hits the wire, suddenly becomes the ‘Truth’ as if God came down from Heaven and stated, “This is so…”

With our instant access to information, it becomes that much easier to ‘create the truth’ and heck, if nobody gets hurt, it can be fun but remember, Ronald Reagan is still roaming the earth looking for souls to devour, remember, you read it here first.