The Mazdarati Conundrum

Why and what happened when I stopped blogging years ago?

The answer is best explained using this analogy…

When I started blogging it was much like the vehicle I now drive. Which is a GMC Yukon Denali XL.

It’s big, imposing, comfortable. 2 rows of captains chairs, 12 speaker BOSE stereo system. 2 video screens, leather interior, wood trim. It has it all.

I treated my blogging as such.

Just get in and drive.

Be spontaneous and let it ride.

By the end of my run. I felt I was no longer in the Denali….

I was back driving my first car. She was dubbed ” the mazdarati”.

The Mazdarati

That’s close to it. Mazda GLC hatchback. No frills. Bells or whistles.

The horn didn’t even work. I had to lean out the window and scream.

The only spontaneous thing about it was the smell…ugh.

I put diesel gas in it once…

Not a good idea.

Anyway, my blog ended up like that car…


Now, all this time later. I giving it another go.

Where have been during that time and what have I been doing since then?

Follow along as I get back in the Denali and take a long ride.

The last six years have been life changing and eventful. The future promises to be just as chaotic.

I tell it as I see it.

Once again….

It’s good 2 be gone.


6 Years Gone

Gone since 2016…


What happened?

Where I been?

When did I decide to post again?


Who have I become since I left?

All to be answered in time. I have decided to make time to bring back my blog.

I can’t this moment. I’m busy avoiding the annoying guy at work who likes to hear himself talk.

I have enough problems listening to myself think.

To solve that….I must blog.

The Tour de Gone

A buzzard dropped road kill innards on my truck today.

That’s how my Monday started….and that’s life in the country for ya….I mean for me.

He didn’t stop to pick it up either…just flipped me the claw and lazily flew off.

Stupid buzzard.

On the plus side, I received a new follower who has bravely been taking the full tour of my archived posts.

She read, liked, and commented on quite a few.

And has blown the dust off many of my previous writings.

Made me forget about the buzzard incident…

She even came across one from quite a while ago and asked if there were any plans for a sequel or continuation.


I naturally opened my mouth and inserted my foot by replying…

“If you would like one I will do one in your honor.”

I told my wife about it and she found great joy in it. She said…and I quote-

“Finally, someone besides me hates the way you end stories. They just end with no ending!!”

My reply-

“I can’t help it…when my brain says its done…it’s done.”

Well…the story is not done. I will be posting the continuation soon.

The link to the original story (with reader comments and all!!) can be found by pressing “here“.

The fellow blogger who has requested a sequel is

Flowers and Breezes

Please visit her blog as well. I would appreciate it… I am sure she will as well.

Back to the archive room to re read my own post and see where it may lead me.

Hopefully there are no buzzards in there….


The Tagline

I have been blogging for over a year now. The Tagline under my blog name has been the same (see above). I am mulling a few options.

Other suggestions are welcome.

Here are a few I have thought of…

-Typing at the speed of bad grammar.

-Dude…Where’s my semicolon.

-Baiting the hook of life with stories since 2012.

– Square pegging the round.

– It’s like a garage sale for the brain.

– Finding uses for the pennies in the ashtray.

-Wit, Sarcasm, photos and stuff and things.

-The holy grail of wasting time!

-Some days I am the hammer…some days the nail.

– Now without training wheels.

– The result of walking under too many ladders.


The Pickpocket Putback Principle

The pickpocket pilfers the pockets of the plenty,
placing packages onto his person to please his perverted pleasure.

Podering perhaps that his pathway to pain is predestined,
He proceeds to place packages pointlessly INTO the pockets of pedesrtrians and passersby.

Thereby pouncing the predicament of prison….

Say all that 10 times fast…but just watch the video once.

I know I am not much of a poetry person, but please be polite….

For some reason I gotta go “P”.


Meeting The Fiction In Person

For the last couple of weeks, I have been creating posts about a guy named “The Frantic Man”.

Post 1

Post 2

Post 3

Post 4

He is a fictional character based on my personal experiences and thoughts about the steps and principles of AA from early on in sobriety.

The stories are real…I just made up the character to make it more interesting for reading…..and to be able to write about me without saying it was me.

I am my favorite subject.

I love me some me.

I could talk about me ALL day!

But who wants to sounds egotistical? Not me.

While attending the Men’s conference this weekend I was taken aback by an individual I met.

He is the human equivalent of the fictional character of “the Frantic Man”. He doesnt have a stutter but his quiet and shy demeanor along with the way he draws out his speech gave me chills.

I was speaking with the character I created in my mind.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to me that our issues with coming into sobriety and dealing with life beyond the bottle were strikingly similar.

Our thoughts and experiences were mirror images. Our fears with honesty with others were carbon copies.

Our uniqueness made change hard.

By the end of the conference, we had exchanged numbers, and I have spoken with him on the phone twice.

Out of respect for fiction becoming reality I will no longer post about “the Frantic Man”.

I am hoping he will create his own story and bring it to life.


If you want to know what I felt like, in a general way, when meeting my character…..then watch this short clip.


Mine Drop


I got nothing to write or say. So I took a picture of my finger…….it’s not even my middle finger.

That would have required effort, and way too many signals from

Brain to arm

Arm to hand

Hand to specific finger

Finger to upward motion

I got tired just thinking all that, much less writing it.

Basically, I hand my hand on the phone and it was pointed in the general direction of my finger. I hit the camera button, then the shoot button.

And wha-la……

Blogging genius…..

Or shear laziness…..

It all depends on what side of the fence your on.

The green side


The greener side.

I’ll just sit on the fence. Making the decision between the 2 is making me dizzy.

Green is not even my favorite color. There are too many shades of it-

Pine green
Forest green
Light green
Dark green
Blue green

That’s 5 greens.

I couldn’t hit 5 greens in a row if I tried….but I don’t golf.

That takes patience. I have no patience.

Maybe I should be a patient.

I have conversations that go on in my head.

This one occurred while I was blogging about having nothing to blog about.

Most of the time it’s good2begone…..sometimes it gets a little crowded.

Either way,

Louie, Louie
We gotta go.


This is the news headline I had the displeasure of reading courtesy of

Florida Couple Addicted to Coffee Enemas, 100 a Month

After reading the headline I said aloud,

“What is wrong with people?”

Then, of course, I had to read the article….because in order to ask that type of question I needed to have the facts to back such a bold statement.

A minimum of 4 times a day each, this man and woman subject themselves to coffee enemas.

I will quote from the article-

Mike and Trina swear by their coffee. He enjoys a fine espresso grind, which is “on the cold side”; she prefers a “saturated blend” that is “warm and thicker.”

Sounds tasty…..


They enemize it.

Here is the definition if enema-

1. The injection of liquid into the rectum through the anus for cleansing, for stimulating evacuation of the bowels, or for other therapeutic or diagnostic purposes.

No I will not post a picture or diagram to better illustrate.

How did this even get started?

I will let them explain-

“I started the whole debacle,” Trina, who did not want to reveal her last name, told “Then it took on a life of its own. I twice tried to stop and felt worse, so I do this every day and as much as I can. But it’s very time-consuming.”

“I love the way it makes me feel,” said Trina. “It gives me a sense of euphoria.”

The couple admits they perform their caffeinated enema at least four times a day. Once, Trina said she did “nine or 10” in a 24-hour period.

Her husband Mike, 45, said he initially thought, “Oh my god, how disgusting,” but then he tried it, “and now I am addicted.”

The best part? She didn’t want to reveal her last name. I have a strange feeling it’s….


I have a few questions for the adventurous couple….

Do they brew separate pots of coffee or do they own a Keurig single enema cup coffee machine?

Does cream and sugar make a difference?

Is Folgers the best part of waking up?

How do they pull this off or even explain it during Christmas or Thanksgiving….

“Hey honey as long as we are injecting the turkey why don’t you bend over so I can fill your ass up with some Dunkin Donuts Turbo Blend…”

Are they going to star in their own coffee commercial…..

We secretly replaced this couples normal coffee enema blend with Maxwell House Italian Roast…let’s see if they notice the difference…..

I may never drink coffee or have another prostate exam as long I live.

Again I ask…

“What is wrong with people?”


Chickens, Clowns And Water Balloons

A series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person’s mind during sleep.
Experience dreams during sleep: “I dreamed about her last night”.
noun. reverie – vision – daydream – sleep
verb. daydream – fancy

That is the definition I got from Professor Google.

I experienced a dream last night. I will do my best to place it into words.

I was wearing sweats and a hoodie as I walked down an alley with Burgess Meredith.


I looked at him and said,

“Hey, aren’t you the guy from the Rocky movies?”

He looked back at me with a scowl, in his gruff voice he replied as he spit on me,

“Yeah, but you are no Rocky Balboa…your fighter name will be Rookie Bumbalo. Now, shut up and follow me.”

I did shut up but not without a “awww check out the tough old man” look.

As we reached the end of the alley and proceeded into the open square between the buildings I noticed a cage of chickens in the corner.

“Unless you got a plucker and a fryer those fowls won’t do me any good, Mick…” I said confidently.

“If you can catch ’em, we can eat ’em, Rook. These will teach you speed. You need speed to be a fighter.” He said as he pulled a chicken out of the cage.

“I don’t even want to be a fighter…I already know I’m a bleeder….I don’t need someone to punch me in the face to know that.”

“Once you get speed…you won’t get punched in the face.” He yelled as he threw the chicken in the air. “NOW CHASE THAT CHICKEN!”

Without thinking I began to chase the chicken….looking much like a child chasing a quarter rolling down the street.


Somehow within a few seconds I caught the chicken. I grabbed it by the neck and swung it around like a lasso in triumphant fashion.


The head broke away from the body. The body and legs started running around on its own until the nerves gave out, leaving a lifeless body on the ground.

Mick looked at me, shaking his head and replied,

“I must have picked a defective chicken. We need to change strategies to get you speed, Rook.”

“What are you talking about? You said catch the chicken…and I did. What are you…”I tried to say before he interjected with one old index finger held up in the air in defiance.

“SEND IN THE CLOWNS!!” He screamed as he released 4 chickens into the alley.

Clowns? I don’t even like clowns….they scare me.” I sheepishly said.

“They you will get speed AND get over a fear! CHASE THOSE CHICKENS!”

I sighed, looked at him and said before I began the chase, “I hate you old man!”

All of a sudden a multi colored Volkswagen Bug pulls into the alley. The doors open and clowns start rumbling out with their big red shoes, over sized polka dot clothes and painted faces and red noses. Some are holding and squeezing bike horns. Others are juggling. Some are pulling endless scarves out their pockets. All are laughing their creepy clown laughs.

The create a large circle around me. I try to break the chain but to no avail.

Mick is standing on empty crates outside the clown circle clapping his hands and laughing like the penguin character he used to play.


My nerves were pretty much shot. I’m running around in a circle chasing ninja Usain Bolt chickens while seeing various oversized different colored hopping clown shoes. I was within seconds of throwing in the towel when from outside the circle Mick yells,

“You can’t quit Rook! Let’s make it more interesting. Let the bomb squad commence firing!”

From the windows in the building above the alley I heard the excited screams of young children. Within seconds I am being bombarded with water balloons….while chasing chickens…that are surrounded by freaking clowns.


The water is causing the clowns make up to begin dripping off their faces, the chickens are running into the clown feet and bouncing off like bumper cars, Mick is still clapping and cheering me on.

I stop in the middle of the circle look up and yell,


And wake up in my own bed….with a half eaten McChicken sandwich clutched in my one hand and an empty glass which used to have water in it in the other. The water is spilled all over the bed and me. The credits for “Rocky II” are scrolling on the flat screen.

I feel like a Kentucky Fried Idiot.