The gap between thoughts is deeper, when you've landed at your low, and it's out of control.

The space forward is covered in land mines, places you don't want to go, that eat into your soul.

Live fast, die old, then give your body back to the world!

Apparently, I was in a club of some sort recently. I just got an email with a blurry photo attached. They wanted to know who I am? That's not me!

That sort of looks like my Tilley hat, and I have a tropical shirt that looks just like that one. And the shades, and the goatee...

But I would remember, right? And why do they want to know who I am? Sheesh, life is challenging lately!

This blog is four and a half years old. It started shortly after I landed in southern Tennessee, from Idaho. I try not to make it a dumping ground, but more a sharing and entertainment place. I've been blogging for almost twelve years now, and here's my latest:

I had a stuffed omelet biscuit for brunch today at Hardies. I asked them to add some gravy to it, and they did. It was great! $5 bucks, should have ordered two. There were only a few small chunks of ham, that required teeth.

My door is wide open, neighbors on all sides have stuff going on. Jeff across the street is noise polluting with his riding mower, duplex neighbor Drew is transferring his kids, but may drop by later, and Daniel is balling his wife, and may drop by later.

Meanwhile, I sit here and blog...


Our Nashville Christian school shooting was a hate crime. The current balls lacking administration known as Biden's Boys, won't label it as such until they pour over the shooters manifesto, that hasn't been released yet.

It's a nice day here, storm tomorrow. Still questioning myself about why I didn't at least offer Kip a shower and some of my clothes. I haven't landed on an answer yet...

I remember one day when I was homeless and living in a field next to the apartment complex I used to live in. I ran into a buddy, a former neighbor of mine there, before I lost my apartment.

He asked if there was anything I really needed, and I said A Shower! It was the middle of the day, and he had the day off, so he invited me back to his place and let me shower. He was a friend, we've been in each others apartments many times.

His wife found out that I took a shower there, when she got home, and went through the roof. How could he let a dirty homeless guy into the sanctity of their shower?

Hey, I understand, I've let three homeless people use my shower here, to get their humanity back, if just for a few days. That's what it did for me.

Kip was just too far gone. You have to draw the line somewhere, and he was over it. The potential for spreading dangerous germs was high.

When he was here, he moved between Daniel's chair and the open front door. The house began to reek, Kip was in bad shape. I guess I've answered my question.

My Sacramento, CA long time friend Skoge just emailed me:

I feel bad about your turning someone who needed help, away. Sounding like a Real Republican. That’s why I’m a Democrat, I don’t want anyone to fall through the cracks when they need help. The poor kid probably has no one. He may need psychiatric care. He obviously needed clothes.

She also wondered if Daniel was down on people who needed help? I replied:

Daniel was down on me for bringing homeless people into my house and into our quiet dead end street neighborhood. Which I have done several times. This guy needed professional help, way beyond what I could offer, and he was mentally unstable. I feel bad but I stand by my move.

And btw, Kip was mot a kid, around forty I would guess.

I have come to conclude that Daniel was right. I've got to find another way to help people other than bringing them into the sanctity of my little home.

On an unrelated note, I had a YouTube video of Dancing Horses reach 127K views and 74 comments.

I woke up this morning and realized that I couldn't rescue Kip, he's too far gone and needs more than a shower and some fresh clothes. I feel terrible about my decision.

He showed up at my door at 0900, with a big smile, figuring that I was going to do good things for him today. I told him I couldn't be a part of his life, and the hurt look that rolled across his face is something I won't forget. He dropped his eyes, turned and walked back towards the highway.

Now I have to figure out how to deal with Daniel. He said some really hurtful things to me last night, and it's tough when you see how somebody you consider a friend, really feels about things.

Update: Daniel came over and we made amends.

George Washington, the father of our country, wrote his 110 Rules of Civility & Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation by the time he was sixteen.

Rule Number 88 states: Be not tedious in Discourse, make not many Digressions, nor repeat often the Same manner of Discourse.

Rule Number 80 states: Be not tedious in Discourse, or in reading unless you find the Company pleased therewith.

I hereby proclaim these two rules the Basis Of Jims Blogging Bullshit Basics!

I want to ultimately be with God, join with all of my long gone relatives, and all of my animals, and lovers, and where does it end?

I want to leave my body, knowing that I made a difference. Daniel just reamed my ass about being a self-righteous old asshole who does this homeless rescue stuff to feel better than others.

I do this stuff because it needs to get done. It's way easier to do nothing, but that's not me...

So now I sit here, my neighbor and friend Daniel, is mad at me. It's 1900 and my homeless rescue Kip has not shown up.

Sounds like a damned soap opera to me...


I've met a homeless guy named Kip. He's in bad shape, his clothes are falling off him and he needs cleaning up, bad. We stopped by my place for a bit, but the only thing that came of that, was my now stinky house.

I gave him some money and the first thing he wanted was food, so I took him to Arby's, but he wasn't willing to go inside, because of his condition.

I dropped him off near the square to take care of something, and eat pizza. He's not a druggie or a drunk, just a guy that's run out of options. I've helped out stray animals and people, that have come into my life here, Kip is another. He told me he would come by later.

I came home and thought about it. This is a local boy, getting turned away by everybody around here. He said we met one day when I was driving the school bus carrying tubers a few summers back.

I have decided, that if Kip returns this afternoon, I'll get him cleaned up. A shower first, and I've got some pants I haven't worn in a long while that might fit him, and a shirt. Trash what he's wearing!

I gave Gena my other good pair of shoes, but I've got a pair of boots.

Daniel will be coming over after work this afternoon, around 3:45. If I was in the process of helping a fellow human being, like I've done with other's that he has been a part of, would he jump in to help Kip, or lecture me for trying to help someone so far gone?

Stay tuned to oldmanjim's quiet life in the south, and be not tedious in discourse!

var standards = 100%; var done = NO;

If you want to get something done that meets your standards, you've got to either do it yourself, or find the right entity to do it for you, and if neither gets it done, lower your standards and loop it again.

Ultimately, it will either get done at the standards level that works, or you'll finally realize it was never really meant to be done at all.

Here's a current list of this Summers Gulf Shores participants:

 • My son Riley Bangert, his wife Jessica, and daughter Ariella, from Orting, WA.

 • My grand-daughter Shelby Hamilton will be running solo from either Washington DC, or Pensacola, FL.

 • My daughter Becky from the East Bay Area of California.

 • And of course, me.

It't going to be a week in mid-July, with my birthday, the 23rd, within it.

If Becky fly's into Nashville, I'll bring her down and back from here. If she fly's straight there, I'll have an empty seat down and back, and open to offers. :-)

If there are any other grandkids or family members that would love to get involved, hit me up!

I'm going to propose to the family members who are traveling to Pensacola, FL this Summer, that we create a to-do list. When someone finds an amazing thing on the Gulf Coast, put together some words and photos, send them to me, and I'll create a post for it.

For everyone else that follows this blog, you can learn new stuff!

I'll start it off. Out of the internet today came a Yelp link that showed the Top Eggs Benedict in every U.S. State (one of my most favorite meals).

For Alabama, Kittys Kafe in Gulf Shores had the nod, with their Eggs Benedict w/ Crab Cake, potatos and fried green tomato.

You know the crab meat will be fresh out of the Gulf!

I drove by Crockett's Mill restaurant up in David Crockett park this morning around 0900 and they had a decent crowd. On Sundays they only serve breakfast from 0800 to 0945, so people can get to church afterwards.

Sunday is also an all you can eat buffet, and it's great. I thought about going but just wasn't up to doing it alone.

In August of 2018, Steph and I arrived here in Lawrenceburg, TN. I got my sweet little place and she moved in with her daughters family, as Grandma.

It took about a month for me to set up the house, get all of the services going, especially a great direct wired internet connection from a telephone pole.

I had the two great chairs and round table, from Idaho, my bed, my computers, dishes and basic stuff. After establishing everything, I headed to WalMart and bought a great TV for my office along with a huge 65 for the living room. I added my great sound bar to the big setup, and my space rocks.

Then, with the house ready, mainframe hooked up on my desk, Piper and I looking down on Shoal Creek, it was time to code!

My blogging platform back in Idaho for BusDriVerJim, was WordPress. That blog is finished and totally accessible. I was ready to start a new blog on a new platform.

And then I discovered Joomla. It's a developers platform and I developed what I think is a great personal blog for me, as a traveler and photographer. And I had a great time developing a bunch of internal stuff.

The first post to my newly created blog was on Sep 14, 2018, called Landed.

Why do I drink and smoke, when I really love being clean, sober and in great shape?

Why don't I do as I say? I blabber all over this blog about getting out on the road, yet both of those above lifestyles require localization. I'm still committed to Summer in Pensacola though, and I will be, how I will be!

Why have my duck friends split into two warring factions, while losing excitement daily about my quack cocaine?

Why am I still making the trip to the Park? I've only missed a few days, and there have been some days where I was completely stood up, by both groups.

Why do I continue to wonder if I will ever have a partner in my life again? I really should accept the reality that I'm way past that point.

Why don't I just post this?

Got my new keyboard hooked up! It took several hours to pull the laptop apart, rip the old keyboard out and hard wire the new one in. Then I had to write a new driver to map the keys!

Ok, just kidding, I plugged the USB cable in and they both worked fine together :-)

I went to the hardware store and bought some Silicone Glue then mounted my new Something Good message on my truck canopy rear window. The original glue was no good, and I had a heck of a time spreading it around, but it's ok.

All my neighbors are gone and I have this dead end street to myself today!

Typing words on my phone to send to my blog. Laptop keyboard down. My greetings to the world!

Watching world famous highways on YouTube with D, we knew it was going to end with Hwy One down the Pacific Coast.

I have traveled that road many times, between driving exotic sports cars, to hitchhiking with a backpack.

I remember life events that occurred on that road, and they will die with me.

I was telling Daniel that I wish I had a road partner, someone to take care of logistics, while I created the adventure!

Had that with Brian last summer, haven't heard from him since...


I texted my few friends and family last night that I had spilled my drink on my tablet.I mis-spoke, it was my laptop. Surprisingly, it still works, but a third of the keys got fried and their typing out garbage.

So, I bought a USB keyboard from Amazon and it will be here tomorrow. I'm writing this post from my desktop and I researched my next step, which involves using the Device Manager in Windows 11 to Uninstall the keyboard and then use Device Installation Settings to remove it permanently.

I wish I could say the dog bumped my arm, I wish I could say the cat jumped up on the table and hit my cup. But I cannot. I'm really lucky to still have a working laptop, and if I spill anything on the new keyboard, hell it's only $16.

Gee, what stupid thing will I do next?

I only have a few domains left, and they all have active code on them. One site that I've maintained is called Jimazon and it processes the Flickr Photo site.

Flickr has been around for a long time and it's where I store my Photo Sets, for a charge of about $60 a year. Jimazon is also capable of showing Trending and Recent photos across the huge Flickr database.

I just got an email from Flickr telling all of it's developers that as of April their API (Application Program Interface) now requires a “User-Agent” header. Yea, Huh?, that's what I said.

So I went to ChatGPT and asked the wise entity in the sky how to do it. It showed me nicely, with a code example, then I loaded up the twelve Jimazon PHP functions that access the Flickr API, and added two lines of code to each one. The $user_agent variable is simply "Jimazon", followed by the name of the function.

For example: $user_agent = "Jimazon/getphotos";.

Then I dropped down to the Curl code that grabs the data off the Flickr servers and added a USERAGENT option which looks like this:

function curl_get($URL) {

$tout = 5000;

$c = curl_init();

curl_setopt($c, CURLOPT_RETURNTRANSFER, 1);

curl_setopt($c, CURLOPT_URL, $URL);

curl_setopt($c, CURLOPT_CONNECTTIMEOUT,$tout);

curl_setopt($c, CURLOPT_USERAGENT, $user_agent);

$contents = curl_exec($c);


if ($contents) return $contents;

else return FALSE;


I'm going to make the code changes now, assuming that the addition of a USERAGENT will not break Flickrs API before they implement the requirement, and work just fine after they do.

I really hope Flickr had a good reason to do this, because looking at their developers board, many folks are confused and pissed. I'm putting this post on that board and I'm hoping the Flickr engineers will tell me if this is right, or wrong...

Update: It's a good thing I have no life (although I did my laundry this morning). Flickr faced too much outrage over this addition and they have changed their mind, no USERAGENT required :-) Oh well, it was fun to challenge my brain and succeed.

I fixed my app, per their requirements, in a couple of hours. Not everyone was capable of doing that, apperently.

I am not a rain guy, or a snow guy, or a fog guy. I thrive on clear and eighty five. It has been raining all day.

My plans for laundry at the Wishy Washy were washed out. I got up at 0530 and then slept another hour at 0800. It's really hard being me, these days.

I'm either toggling my big screen between Fox and Local, or scrolling through TikTok on my big tablet. I consume content, it's what I do, it's who I have become. It's funny that I don't do both at the same time.

My possessions are meager, compared to some, but I'm very grateful for what I have. My stash has gone South since moving here, but I ain't broke, and I'm alright.

It's great to be Alive in America. As I was paying for my ice at the nearby tobacco store, I noticed the price of cigarettes at nearly $7 a pack. I told my store buddy that when I was sixteen, they were $.25 cents a pack.

A girl got me started smoking and I'm mad at you to this day Linda Galagher. I quit the day I turned 50, saved my life and allowed me to be here writing this.

I did the same thing with booze when I turned 70 in Idaho, lasted a whole year, dropped down to 150 and was in great shape. Did the same thing here for a whole month, got back to 150.

Now I'm probably in the worst shape I've ever been in. Weighing in over 180 and the tremors are constant wether I take my meds or not.

But every day is a gift! I treasure them, I embrace them! Ain't no self pity going on in this house!

And my main goal is to remember them...


Still here. I'm thinking tomorrow, hit the Wishy Washy, pay some bills and pick up some Farmer Katy recommended Magnesium for my leg cramps, called Calm.

Load up and head out Thursday morning. The weather is warming up, rain today and tomorrow, then a few decent days as I head East. Three layovers: Chattanooga TN, Asheville, NC and Greenview, SC.

If my grand-daughter Shannon was still in Atlanta I'd swing on through, but she's moved back West.

Everybody needs a plan of some sort, and that's mine, unless I change it, but it's feeling pretty solid.

One time in Kent, WA I was homeless and living in a tent, in the middle of a wooded area that became a Target Store a year later. During the day I scrounged for coins in the Safeway parking lot.

The apartment complex I used to live in was across the street, and my good buddy Rodger would come over in the mornings. Big strapping black guy, always brought me a cup of coffee from his kitchen pot, then he would get me stoned from his homegrown bud. He rebuilt shipping pallets out of a downtown storage locker, for a living. With a wife and young boy.

Not everyone has the privelege to experience bottoming out. I sure did, then and there. Only a couple friends, Colleen and my boy Riley living nearby. One evening Riley brought out a small portable TV and we watched StarTrek inside the tent.

My mom was still alive down in California and asked my sister Lorelle to help me out, which she did to the tune of $250. Things started happening, I got my old car going, and I was determined to put my computer brilliance back to work.

Then I jumped off the carport in front of Rileys apartment, into the sand filled playground, wearing sandals. I crushed my left ankle and was rushed to the hospital where they put eight screws into it.

I had no money to handle the hospital bills, so they put me on welfare. Suddenly I'm getting a small income, I'm staying alive, found a little multi-story dive to live in.

Once I was able to walk without crutches, I landed a job at a downtown Kent hotel as a bellboy/dishwasher for minimum wage. I called the welfare department and said thank you very much, goodby!

I did that bellboy routine for several years. I was in Rileys life as much as I could, we didn't miss a beat.

Finally I landed an apartment right across from his high school. I shared his formative years there, with his mom down the road.

I eventually became a Para-Transit driver and one day Riley stared me in the eye and said: If you don't accept that offer to become Supervisor, I'll kick your ass. He was actually probably able to do it, so I said yes.

I went on to have a successful management career with ATC VanCom and Hopelink. I guess what I'm saying here, you can be at the very bottom of your life, and still rebound!

And having a wonderful son in my life, changed everything. Mine was the first place he and his buddies would hit after school. They figured out how to drink my vodka, and then water it down.

I was involved in his life completely, and then one day he drove the Uhaul with all of Stephs and my stuff to Idaho with us. He went on to a degree from WyoTeck, and his career.

Riley is now a husband, a proud father and an amazing auto body guy in a two man shop!

So, that's just a little stuff from my past, thanks for reading...


The old man Jim is driving his old truck Jill East, through the South, just to be alive and moving!

He is sleeping in Jill's truck bed as often as possible. His shotgun is onboard, along with all necessary electronics, and condiments.

He just treated her to some fresh oil, with exam. Created 35 years ago, she is road ready and anxious to go, with new tires screaming Ride Me!

And he really hopes that he starts back writing in the first person.

Update: I reread this post and realized it sounds like I'm actually on the road. I'm not, planning to, just not doing it yet.

If I can get a week of nice weather, between here and the East Coast, I'm thinking road trip. I have nothing going on, nothing! Pay next months rent up front and pay the rest of my bills from my laptop.

It will be a merge of a solid weather forcast, my icebox at a minimum state, and the Wishy Washy.

See what's going on in Chattanooga, TN, then mosey over to Asheville, NC and then down to Greenview, SC.

Been wanting to eat at the James Beard Award winning Chai Pani in Asheville, and Greenview just made a big top ten cities list.

I've hit all three places over two road trips in the last four and a half years but I must have been drunk because I don't remember them clearly. I think I need to erase the old memories, and put some fresh ones in.

And since I have this wonderful blog you can follow right along, unless I hit the strip club. I'll leave that out, save it for the Paid Subscription version of


Ok, I've had some interesting times. Yesterday I drove up to the liquor store for supplies, and as I was loading ice and booze into my truck, a guy appeared at my door.

Daniel told me later he spotted the guy standing at my truck as he drove by on his way to Allen's house.

He had a red hoodie over his head, and appeared homeless. We chatted for a bit and I invited him home, and he hopped into my truck. I drove back to my place, and we hung out for a bit. He refused to sit, standing by my door instead.

I have helped local homeless people here in my house before. It is what I do. If this guy wanted a shower and a fresh start, I was willing to provide it. But he did not.

I asked him where he wanted to go, and he said the Pawn Shop by the Wishy Washy. So, I drove him there.

I don't know if I will ever see this guy again, he knows where I live, and that's fine. He was interesting and kept referring to my name Hamilton, which is an apparently important name around here. A circuit judge or something.

He also had a disability, a severe indentation on top of his head. Would not elaborate on how it got there. Maybe I'll see him again...


I did time in Alcatraz Prison, the island out in San Francisco Bay. Al Scarface Capone and Robert Birdman of Alcatraz Stroud were there. They called it The Rock and nobody ever escaped but me. I spent a day and bribed a boat owner to get me off the island.

I also escaped a knife wielding mugger in the baddest part of San Francisco called The Tenderloin by taking off and out running him.

I did pure Meth in the Haight Ashbury in it's prime and would have died in Golden Gate Park had my brother not rescued me.

I lived with my friend Sherry for a few months in Michael Cottens flat downtown. He was the keyboard player for the rock band The Tubes and they were on the road.

I saved Interocean Steamship from bankruptcy, after they lost the code I wrote from a backup accident.

I had a reserved seat at the coolest topless club in town while I lived across The Bay in Oakland, where I bought one of the first IBM PC's to hit the market.

Unfortunately, The City is dead now. I wondered over there one Summer to see Sherry and Grant while I lived in Idaho. The place has since gone to hell, and they moved to Sacramento.

I have grand and great grandkids living in the Bay Area, that I know I will never see. Brian and I made it to Oregon last year, but that's the closest I will make it back to California. Sorry Skoge.

So the biggest trip I have planned now, is to Pensacola, FL this Summer, unless I surprise myself with an adventure...


My Dolly For President sticker just arrived so I've added it to the mix. I'm enjoying this little hobby, think I'll grab some more...


Omfg. I'm sitting in my little house, as a man who helped expand technology back in the seventies and eighties, and my mind is blown.

I don't dive into the deep stuff these days, yet I surround myself with the good. I have my laptop at my fingertips, my big TV feeding me more video content than I can consume, with my Samsung tablet to my left, giving me TikTok.

Y'all don't really remember where this personal computer world evolved from, because you either weren't alive, or were babies. I do, in 1969 I was learning how to program computers by hooking wires together on a board at Merritt College in Oakland, CA.

I've had an amazing computer career, and I could easily write a book about it. Instead I share bits and pieces about it here in my blogs, and enjoy the hell out of our current computer technology, from a different perspective.

For example: Tonight I had everything shut down, ready to go to bed, but I had my tablet running TikTok on my left. It's my link to what's going on in the world! Fuck Fox News, fuck the other Networks!

TikTok feeds me reality, from the people who choose to send it. It also connects me to great entertainment.

For example, tonight I saw a video of a couple of young girls doing a version of Creep in front of some people in chairs that turn around if interested.

They turned around with their jaws hanging in their lap. I love this shit, so glad to be alive, and to be able to enjoy it!

Here's the link!

Here I am, broken hearted, trying to be, but can't get started. The new stick-on for my truck has arrived:

But it's too cold out there to work on it...

I need to get my trucks oil changed, just not up for a drive through town on a Friday afternoon. I guess I should hold off on that road trip until later next week. Oh wait, I don't have a road trip planned...

Besides, I've got a Dolly For President sticker coming, can't travel without that!

I'm always up for a sign, symbolism is key to this life, and I just found a new one. I was looking at my gas wall heater today and thought it would be a hoot if the number of slats at the top was equal to my special number, twenty three.

I tried closing my eyes and running my finger over them and counting, but it was too hot, because it was on. Did I mention it's cold out? You can't count heater slats visually so I ran a pen over them and counted the clicks.

There are 23 slats in my heater, how about that.

Then, Daniel and his wife Jen and I worked on that sticker and determined it has to be installed from the inside, so we did, right behind my drivers position.

I hope this makes someones day, sitting in traffic!

Talent like mine, is wasted on people like me. It's almost 5pm in Ireland, and after five in Cairo and Cape Town and Jerusalem and Johannesburg. I'll drink to that!

I went to bed at 8:30 last night and my legs immediately cramped up so I said fuck it, and took my damn meds. The cramps stopped while the strange background music continued to play on.

If their was an Irish pub in this hick Southern town, I would get my green on and go. But, all the places in this place require a red scarf at the door, and I don't have one.

I've been to many Irish pubs in my life, spread across the West Coast from the Bay Area to Puget Sound. The Irish do love to party, and it's a solid part of my blood line. Sláinte (Cheers in Irish)! Or as they say down here, Bráinte, which means May the pork brains become your matter!

Day five, still alive. Two feedings, two groups. The ducks have split into two separate camps, fighting between themselves, over me. They see my truck arrive and they approach from two different directions. Today they stood apart about twenty yards while I walked between them, feeding them from my hand.

We all used to be friends, it's sad how things have evolved, but that's nature. I keep telling myself to give it up, but I keep not listening to myself. Seems to be the story of my life these days.

I sat in the middle of the Park afterwards and was reading my mail when a motorcycle pulled up and the driver approached my window. Turned out to be a guy I had chatted with a couple of years ago up there. Around my age, retired from the Railroad. He offered to buy my truck and I didn't even ask what he was offering, she just ain't for sale.

I've only had a bowl of cereal with blueberries and a banana to eat today. The fucking ducks eat better than me these days. I really do need to take better care of myself, but like I said, I ain't listening.

The best I can do is just treat this as a journal, and not shove it into the space of my very few friends and family. I slipped up yesterday, but I'm determined to succeed today...


My brain is swirling around in crazy ways. It's like music playing, that I know but I can't peg down. I haven't taken my two Parkinsons drugs for four days now.

I was going to tonight, but I started drinking and decided not to.

Getting off your drugs is like getting high. The brain gets weird, swirling is the best way to describe it, music...

How ironic!

So what now? I really don't know. It's the middle of March, 2023 and I have no plans until mid-July, and even those aren't firmed up.

I suppose I could plan a couple road trips, but to where and why? I have ended up alone, and uninspired.

I've come a long way from having a life with friends and family back in Washington state, with a twelve year layover in Idaho, to surviving in a little house alone in Tennessee.

I really hate to admit this, but maybe I blew it. I had a great career going as a transit supervisor for HopeLink in Seattle. My tax issues were under resolve, and I probably would have ended up in management, and retired.

Then my sister called, invited us to Idaho, and changed everything. OK, I had a wonderful time there with Steph and my sisters family, I admit that completely. So what the fuck am I saying?

That the move to Tennessee was a mistake? God, I don't know anymore. I suppose I could play this game back for many decades!

Living in the South has been good, on occasion. I've explored places I never would have, been to Belize three times and Roatan twice.

But now I am alone. I have a couple of friends, that I see once in a while. Yet for the most part I have no life here.

Feeding the ducks is not life! Getting drunk with Daniel is not life! Putting sad empty words out to the internet, is pathetic. Sorry...


Just had that in-home medical visit from a great guy who lives here in Lawrenceburg. Retired doctor, spent decades practicing here, now visits directly.

He was really thorough, more than a normal in-office visit. I told him I've been off my two meds for the last three days but he suggested getting back on them. I told him I didn't want to drive to Columbia just to get a re-up and he said my local Fast Pace clinic should be able to fill it.

I have great medical insurance these days, probably the best I've ever had!

The internal weirdness continues as I move through the day with no purpose. Songs are floating through my head that I can't identify. The internal vibrator called blood and muscle continues to disrupt.

After this in-home meeting with the guy tomorrow, I have no medical visits planned with anyone. I'll continue drug free until I can't, I have a bit left of both. But the way the system works, is you have to keep going to these doctors if you want them to re-up your scripts. You stop going, they end.

I really feel strange, it's hard to describe...


Riley just sent me a picture of his totaled Acura, thank god for airbags. I should have the ones in my old truck checked out. Oh, wait...

This was the vehicle that Riley let Brian and I drive all over the Northwest on our last trip. It was a great car, very sorry to see it die.

Hell I've had a big crack in my lower passenger side window for years now, that was the last time the road hit my truck. I was coming back to Idaho from a trip down to Arizona and construction brought traffic through Idaho Falls to a crawl.

I came upon a man made junction and I made the wrong choice, which sent me miles West on a freeway that I couldn't wait to get off of. That's when an object bounced off the road and hit my window.

I had replaced that window twice since owning my truck, and I was not happy. So, I just let it ride. Over the years I have kept an eye on it, but it expanded out to it's current state, and stopped.

If it was on the drivers side, hell yea the window would go, but since I have very few passengers as I drive down the road of life, fuck it.

So here's a couple of photos, sadly Riley's Acura, and my window with character.

Something weird is going on inside me. My brain feels like it's stoned on some exotic drug, while my body feels like it's falling apart.

I stopped taking my two prescriptions for Parkinsons a couple of days ago, I don't know why, they just didn't seem to be working. I wonder if my brain issues are a result of that.

So I'm drug free, haven't been stoned in quite a while. Actually, I feel like I'm riding a highend drug right now!

I drove to the Park this morning to check on the ducks, it's been a couple of days, and it's still down to Whitey, Speckled and one of the wild birds. As they ran up to me and started eating out of my hand, a young lady visitor said they sure love you and I replied and I love them. It's true, I wish the other four were still around...

I've got an in-home medical visit coming up Wednesday morning as part of my health plan. Should be interesting. It's going to be from a guy named Clayton, probably the same frumpy one who filled up my chair last year. How come I can't get a cute lady?

I just left a message at my blood doctors nurses station, requesting a .pdf of my blood work to be emailed here before that meeting. I'll show it to him on my laptop, if he gives a shit. I'm sure he has his routine, curious if I get a lecture from him about going off my meds.

It's interesting writing without knowing if anyone is going to read what you wrote, but at least I ain't shoving my stuff down peoples throats anymore, and that feels good.

Drug and notification free!

My sister called me yesterday and we had a wonderful talk about everything. We talked voice to voice, it was real, and great!

Then I fell asleep in my chair at 8pm and slept until 1am, at which point I dragged myself into bed. I slept well with no hiccups until 7am. I never sleep that late but there I was, warm and snuggly.

Then I fell back to sleep for an hour and had some great dreams. I told myself to roll over and get up, but I fell back asleep and had more amazing dreams until 9am.

Weird stuff is rolling around inside my head, I can't really define it but it's like my brain is dreaming while I'm awake and moving around. It's happening on a separate channel from normal brain waves, and confusing everything.

But I have a life! I need to get dressed and mosey up to the lake...


Sis, I am sorry I said what I said about Paul and our relationship, please forgive me. You are my sister and my family. I love you, always have, always will!

Hey, we perceived growing up with Paul Hamilton differently. The day Dana caught up with me running around as a wild young kid in Floriston, CA and told me that the guy that was raising us was not our real father, crushed me!

Especially when he was whipping us because we disrespected you. I have to say that I have no ill feelings towards Paul anymore, especially around that situation, probably any man might have been right there.

I think the thing that lingered between me and Paul was respect. He never attended my sporting events in high school, that I can remember. The one moment when I caught his eye was down on Butte Creek when I pulled a double flip off a swinging rope. He actually smiled, and looked proud!

So you and I have different ways of looking at this. Of course I know you loved him, just as you and I both loved mom. Towards the end, when he asked me to come over, in Oakland, Ca, and get all of us stoned, I knew we had arrived, and I loved him!

That is my last memory of Paul Hamilton. He released all of his retired truck driving bullshit, and got stoned with our mom and I. We talked about the day they met, in a bar...

I really liked him towards the end, he had a breathing tube happening from decades of truck driving smoking, in a little apartment in downtown Oakland, and he seemed happy. He was still in love with our mom!

Sis, I am sorry I have dissed our father in the past!

Here's to you, and Paul!

For those that haven't picked up on it yet, I'm still blogging like crazy, just not shoving my self perceived brilliance down anybody's throat with "Read Me!" texts every time I write something. If anybody want's to know what OldManJim is thinking about, just come here if you like...

Actually, if I was a reader of this blog, I would scroll down to the last thing I remember, and work backwards...

My boy Riley just got into a car wreck, some animal darted in front of him and he swerved to avoid. Crashed into a tree, airbag deployed, and their Acura was totalled. He's alright, a little beat up. I told him I know a good body guy, but sadly, it's a loss. I love you son, sorry it happened.

I realize now that my hiccups have not stopped since yesterday. About every eight seconds a vibration rolls up from my inner body and jolts my head and upper body back. It has not stopped, maybe for a couple hours last night but I may be delusional, and I'm getting concerned and pissed off.

Talking is difficult as every sentence is interrupted by a jolt of my head. I was talking to Riley this morning, and it was tough. Picture every eight seconds (I timed it) a vibration rolls up from your body, jolting your shoulders up and messing with your speech mid-expression.

I initially thought it was from yesterdays Mexican food, but I was so wrong. This is a real physical thing that I need to address!

These aren't hiccups!

A promise is a prison, don't make yourself another's jailer, stated the Romulan leader when her young son said to Picard, You promised to read me that book!.

Things were much different at the Romulan relocation hub at Vashti in 2385, than they are today. I don't treat that word lightly and I respect it to the fullest.

In fact I use the word rarely, but if I do make you a promise, you better believe that I will do whatever it takes to fulfill it!

Look, I've been around for going on 77 years and I'm sure there were a whole bunch of promises that I didn't keep. I ain't been no fucking saint, by any means.

But I'm talking about the person I have now become, an old man with just a few friends, hunkered down on a dead-end street in the deep South, Vashti if you will...

And if I look a person down here in the eye, and promise to do something, I do it! That's assuming I don't learn what a shotgun barrel tastes like, or get creamed on the highway, first.

So, I guess it's time for some promises:

I promise to never take my own life. I have tasted the dirt from groveling on the ground hopelessly, and I've learned that you'll have to take this one life from me, kicking and screaming like a wild man!

I promise to never intentionally hurt anyone, physically or mentally, even if they have hurt me. This is bigger than it appears, but short of self-defense, true.

I promise to be totally honest in my human conversations with people about life, unless it would hurt the person I'm talking to.

I promise to keep on blogging, until I can't press the keys, or have the money to maintain this site.

I had a very interesting evening last night as Daylight Savings Time ended. I was sitting around ready to hit the bed and lose that hour, when I suddenly started hiccuping. In a weird way.

Once every eight seconds roughly, a small hiccup would emanate up from my gut. I figured this would stop once I got to bed, but no, it lasted all through the longer night. I slept through it for the most part somehow, and about once an hour I would wake up, observe that it was still going on, then change sleeping sides and nod back off. It finally stopped around 0600.

I was out of lemons for my morning hot drink so I mossied up to Kroger's and got some. Now I'm sitting around writing this, with a slight headache and a sore throat.

Hey Daniel, you're right about not eating Mexican food out of a truck, that's got to be it! No more...


I don't feel well today and I slept till 1000. I had previously shut this blog down for a bit, but it's back, not sure why...

Then I drove to Krogers for water, went back to bed, and slept till 1330. This is very weird for me as I'm usually up at 0400 and stay up all day.

Now I'm sitting here with my first cocktail of the day, that I made before I went back to bed for the second time.

Been writing stupid shit lately, which is the reason I shut the blog down in the first place. Now I've deleted the most offensive stuff, but still leaving it up.

No more notifications. If anybody chooses to submit themselves to my words, drop on by. Otherwise, enjoy your life, without my nonsense...

I had a craving for a couple carnitas tacos at the streetside truck so I drove up there. I've been belching up that crap all afternoon as a result.

Some friends have let me know they were offended by that piece I did on women a while back. Upon reading it again, I understood why, and deleted it.

A couple of days ago I was told by my half sister not to email or text her anymore. She has taken offense at my writing about her dad, Paul Hamilton. You got it sis, another relationship dies on the vine because I speak my mind honestly.

It's a rainy, sick, sad Saturday in Lawrenceburg, TN for me, and I just keep on writing.

If I was prone to it, and flat broke, I would be trying out the fit between my shotgun and my loud mouth, but I am neither. So, I will just write until I can't, and stop shoving it down peoples throats.

This is my personal blog, and if you don't like it, stay away!

I keep making mistakes and losing the few friends I have. I thought I had stopped belching up that Mexican street food, so I put the half-finished drink in the fridge, and went to bed at 2015.

After laying there hiccuping for a half hour, I'm back up. Sipping on a cocktail with melted ice, despondent from my choices, totally sorry about disappointing family and friends, and just working on knocking myself out.

So here's the real deal! Unless I reach out to people with notifications about my blog and my sorry ass life, nobody reaches out to me. That's a pretty pathetic position to be in life, in fact, I killed my blog for a few days and nobody noticed because I didn't tell them.

It's like FaceBook, nobody is going to read about your life unless you post something to entice them to do so, and it shows up in their feed. I've been doing the same thing, via notifications, and it is a pathetic statement of our current lives.

I used to check in with FaceBook to see how the people around are doing, but I've sabotaged that platform so much over the years, it only works on a couple of devices now.

So is their a solution to this mess? I've always enjoyed documenting my life but instead of letting people drop by my blog when they are truly interested, I shove it down their throats.

And they have become used to it. If I don't text or email a blog post link out, folks just assume I didn't write anything.

I am stopping that now, and hey, it works both ways. I wish everyone I know had a blog I could drop into when I truly wanted to know how their life is going. FaceBook sucks, but I guess that's what we got...

But the good news is, you're reading this now because you visited here without a notification, just because you wondered how I was doing!

So, life is good, to be alive. Every morning you wakeup, is a gift. Embrace the day, and make it to the night. Forget about yesterday, it don't exist anymore. Don't stress about tomorrow, because you may not be there.

I fed Whitey and his two remaining friends this morning, in the rain. I have no other purpose in this world, but to drive to the Park, despite everything. I know I said I was quitting, but I lied.

I spilled my personal health out to the world yesterday. I don't know why, I wasn't expecting sympathy, and I got none.

Having a big white duck come waddling towards me as I sit under cover from the rain, is the highlight of my sad existence. My hand full of seed is his friend, I should swoop him up and bring him home.

It's a wonderful life, so they say. Now if I could just figure out how to embrace it. Actually, I'm tired. I wish I had a partner, a lover, but everything is way beyond that.

If I didn't still have some money in my stash, I would probably check out now. But I do, and damn if I don't want to spend it on something that makes me feel alive!

What to do?

I was born as Leigh James Riza, in Long Beach,CA. in 1946. My father, Eugene Thomas Riza was a Navy vet who survived the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941, on board one of those many ships that sank.

At the end of the war, he met my mom Janice King, they married and created my brother and I.

Gene bailed when I was just a baby and moved back to his family in Texas.

My mom remarried, to Paul Hamilton, a guy she met in a bar, hoping he could be a good provider. I have to give it to the guy, he did provide.

A couple of years ago, I went before the local court, and legally changed my name to Jim Hamilton, because that has been the name I have been living with since I got my first social security card when I was a kid. The last name Riza just didn't work anymore.

Sometimes, when I mess up, I refer to myself mentally as Hamilton. As in, WTF Hamilton, did you just miss the toilet bowl again!

I guess this is who I am. Paul raised me, and Gene did not.

I had a conversation with my grand-daughter Shelby a while back, who goes by the name Shelby Hamilton. I explained the history of her last name, and she said WTF, she is a Hamilton, and proud of it!

Actually, I was called Jamie as I grew up, never knew why, but I dropped that as soon as I could.

Names matter, they define us. I guess it's time to get off my fucking high horse, and accept my last name. I am Jim Hamilton, and proud of it.

All of the people above me are no more. I have no relatives older than me. They are all gone.

So, I am a Hamilton. Thanks Paul, I love you and forgive you.

I'm looking forward to a mid-July family meet up, but I have a slight problem. I may need a walker because my legs are giving out on me. No running on the beach for me. I don't know if it's Parkinsons related, but it gets worse every day.

I've bailed on my neurologist. The only reason I was going was to maintain prescriptions for two drugs that are not working, and that I have stopped taking.

The blood doctor was no help, gave me a relative clean bill of health and told me to limit my drinking. I think I've run out of options. I'm the guy who lives in this old body, and I know things aren't right.

I am a mess. The shakes are bad and lately my lower back cramps up, almost bringing me to the ground. Yea, poor poor pitiful me. I'm really not writing this for sympathy, just stating the reality.

I just don't want anybody shocked if I step out of my truck in Pensacola and unfold a walker. Hmmm, that's assuming I can drive.

But I really want to see my family this Summer, so I will tough it up and do my best.

I got some feedback from my latest post, which was pretty out there. The general reaction was good, actually.

I watched a bit of Chris Rock's comedy special on NetFlix, now that guy is out there! He says whatever he wants, and uses every profanity on record to make his point.

I try to take a somewhat softer approach, while still speaking my mind. I would love to be at a performance of that cok-suking, motha-fuking, nigga some day. I haven't watched it all, but he did have me cracking up a few times. Wishing I had the balls to write that way, but I would lose my limited blog audience pretty quickly if I did.

So, I will talk about mundane things today. I canceled my Thursday appointment with my neurologist. The pills aren't working on my Parkinsons, and I'm tired of taking them. The only reason to drive to Columbia, TN is to continue the prescription, fuck that.

I drove by to check on my duck friends at noon, and they were happily foraging on the other side of the lake.

Sometimes my Facebook connection works, and I see Shelby searching for a six people rental mid July in Pensacola. Then I see that Jess want's their own space if they make it down there this summer. Come on girl, you can share a house with family!

It's a beautiful day in Southern Tennessee, I'm wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, door wide open, and I think I should mosey outside to my porch...


I asked ChatGPT to write a blog post for me today. Man did I get scolded! Here's what I asked:

Write a blog post about not feeding the ducks at the park anymore because they don't appreciate me.

Here was the AI's response:

Ducks are charming creatures that are often found in parks and ponds. They are delightful to watch as they glide across the water or waddle on the land. It's a common sight to see people feeding ducks at the park. However, there may come a time when you realize that feeding the ducks isn't appreciated by them. If this is the case, it's time to stop feeding them.

Firstly, it's important to understand that feeding ducks at the park can lead to a number of negative consequences. One of the most significant is that it can cause overcrowding. When too many ducks congregate in one area, they can become aggressive towards each other, which can lead to injuries or even death. Additionally, ducks that are fed by humans can become dependent on this food source, which can lead to health problems.

Furthermore, feeding ducks at the park can also attract other wildlife such as rats or geese, which can be a nuisance to park visitors. These animals can also carry diseases that can be harmful to humans and other animals.

But perhaps the most important reason to stop feeding the ducks is that they simply don't appreciate it. While it may seem like a kind gesture to offer them some bread or other treats, ducks are naturally equipped to find their own food. They have an innate ability to forage and find food on their own, and feeding them can disrupt this natural behavior. In fact, feeding ducks can actually cause them to lose their natural ability to forage and hunt for food, which can be detrimental to their long-term survival.

So, what should you do instead of feeding the ducks at the park? The best thing to do is to simply observe them from a distance. Enjoy their natural behaviors, like preening and grooming, and watch as they interact with each other. If you want to help the ducks, consider volunteering with a local wildlife rescue organization or donating to a conservation fund that works to protect their natural habitats.

In conclusion, while it may seem like a kind gesture to feed the ducks at the park, it's important to remember that this behavior can have negative consequences for both the ducks and other wildlife. Instead, observe them from a distance and appreciate their natural behaviors. By doing so, you'll be helping to protect them and their habitats for years to come.

There you go, thanks ChatGPT! You made me feel so much better, that I didn't make the trip this morning...


I don't know how many of you have been to southern Florida, Pensacola west to Gulfport, AL. The attractions are amazing and many. The Zoo, FloraBama, Pirates Cove, and more!

I am grateful to say I have been there many times. Moving up north to southern Tennessee, and then having my amazing grand-daughter Shelby down there making connections, allowing me the privelege of experiencing her amazing life.

Now my boy and his wife and baby are making plans to be there this mid-July, from Seattle. My daughter Becky is planning an arrival. This could be very special.

All of the time-shares are booked, but Shelby has friends with houses on the beach, that may be willing to rent one out to us.

That would be amazing, I see the Amazon movie plot building out, next thing you know, grandkids with babies would be joining us, that would be cool, but probably best for another time...

This summer is my defining moment. I will turn seventy seven, my body is falling apart, my mind is as sharp as it's ever been, except I forget shit all of the time.

Here's a shot of an in-shape me walking along the Pirate Cove pier with my great-grand-daughter Prudence. Just a few years ago. The moment and days were magical, and I miss her.

Now I sit here, smoke free, last call, wondering how the summer will evolve.

I could get in that shape again, if I chose to, or was motivated to.

Walking with Prudence along Pirate Cove now, would be motivation enough...


I absolutely need to stop taking that morning drive to the Park. The ducks are splintered, and it's just no fun anymore.

I think I've figured out the culprit. It's a smaller wild duck, maybe one of the two wild ducks from the old crew, but I suspect it's newer to the scene. He put's his head down to the ground and attacks everyone in my main group of three. They can't eat from my hand anymore because this little guy attacks them. I'm sure he's adopted the other group, who hardly get out of the water around the dock anymore. He even goes after the geese.

I'm thinking it's a mating thing, hell, I have no idea what gender these birds are. The little attack duck is doing what comes naturally in the wild.

The final revolution came this morning, when the fisherman at the dock put down their poles to watch the old man carrying a bag of seed, running around yelling at a small duck, and chasing him into the water.

I have gone from Duck Whisperer, to the crazy old oddball at Lindsey Lake. It's time to put the bag away, for good. Move on to some other morning routine that defines me and gives me purpose.

Wish me luck with that...


It's a weird Saturday evening. Ideas and concepts fly into my mind, and disappear before my fingers can reach the keyboard, just inches away.

I finished off the crumbs today, along with my girl scout cookies. There always comes a time to stop.

I went to make Jim's Fish today, but I was out of tarter sauce, so I improvised.

Starts with a half of a hamburger bun, either side. Lather it up with mayo, sprinkle on a whole bunch of coleslaw, add tarter sauce, a slice of tomato, shredded cheese, then top it with a slice of hot tasty fish, cooked in my little air-fryer.

This one is minus tomato and tarter sauce, so I added sour cream and salsa.

I'm still here, one eye and a hand. I managed to retrieve some footage of my great tree earlier, a little editing and then up to YouTube. It's amazing what you can accomplish with so little.

Like I feared, I have become a pancake. My laptop has landed in front of my scrunched head, and I have one hand left to type with. There is a huge weight on me, I can't move. Actually I don't know what's left of my body.

Only minutes left here, I need to say my last words!

I send my love out to everyone who ever knew me. You liked me, hated me, loved me, or ignored me. Thanks for everything!

A special shout out to my family, scattered all over, none nearby. I love you all.

Everyone take care, don't fret about me. I've had an amazing life. Goodbye!

We're under a severe wind warning here in Southern Tennessee. Thunder storms are rolling through now, followed by winds up to 70mph.

We had a pretty good soaking recently and the tree roots are saturated. Not a good time for a wind storm.

I have some huge trees around me, I love them, but if one slipped loose and hit my roof, it would cave in and crush me like a pancake.

I ain't scared, if it happens it was meant to. That's how I look at life in general now.

Please drop by and pour a little syrup on me, if it does!

I have a confession to make, I have fed the ducks the last two days. I know! It's just one more addiction that's hard to break. The only day I've missed in many months, was last Tuesday when I drove South.

It's difficult to do now, since they're in two groups on opposite sides of the lake, but I pull it off.

They don't seem as hungry lately, sometimes they just come up to eat from my hand once, like Hi You, Thanks! and then waddle on.

I've also been thinking about my daughter Becky meeting my son Riley for the first time this Summer. I failed with Becky, and succeeded with Riley. I wish I was two for two, but we can't change the past.

But we can change the future, by getting past the past. That's what I wish to achieve with Becky, in a fun way this Summer. Vacation time on the beach, surrounded by family. A great way to be!

btw: Shelby has a millionaire friend named Todd who throws great parties at his waterfront place. Love to revisit that!

Well look at me, Old Man Jim Travel. Here's to a Pensacola Summer!

Making plans for this Summer! Shelby is going to be in Pensacola, FL mid-July, but can't confirm dates. Riley and Jess are stoked about nabbing a time-share down there, but they're getting scarce.

Here's what the old man proposes: I think Jessica should book a time-share in Pensacola, mid-July, and I, Shelby, and Becky, will work around those dates.

My lovely grand-daughter Shelby digs Pensacola and I have spent memorable times with her there. She is the ultimate travel guide, and agent!

It would be a great family reunion. Play on the beach with the baby, visit our friend Homers new Zoo!

I can be there anytime, unless I'm rotting in a Lawrenceburg, TN holding cell...


I messed up yesterday when I mentioned I was stoned in a post, kinda taunting the cops, and then one pulled up in front of my house, for a good minute, running my info. My door was wide open, he could have approached, but didn't.

He was making a statement. Somebody here in town that follows me called the cops, for me sitting in the privacy of my home, with just a couple small buds in an old baggie.

If I lived on the West Coast, this wouldn't happen. Anyway, I woke up at 0200, trashed yesterdays posts, and then wrote some slick PHP code into my index file that killed the blog at the top, and presented the word Done, centered perfectly in the middle. I have since commented out that kill switch and re-published those two posts. It's nice to have some way of shutting my blog down completely, if needed.

I don't know, I really don't want the local police digging through my blog for stuff. But hey, I'm a law abiding guy (except for the pot, that's nearly gone...) putting my life out there for anyone to see. I should also say I'm proud of this blog, I've created some great content! Maybe even some the cops might enjoy!

The PoPo just pulled up in front of my house and sat for a minute, within one hour of me putting up my last post. Where I mentioned that I was stoned.

I've been spreading my blog all over town, and I'm probably getting hits from people in authority, who feel the need to report some old guy mumbling about numbing out his Parkinsons by smoking a little pot.

Pot is all over Tennessee, like many states here in the South. I would say that one out of three people I encounter here, smokes pot. The local weed farms are everywhere.

The cops are caught up in a tough situation. They have to enforce the law, that is their job.

So the PoPo just sat there for a minute, reading my blog post, noting the door was open as I said, realized that the world wasn't at risk, and then they moved on.

Daniel and I were watching Fox News and he didn't see them, until they moved on. He's now freaked out by that Post. Let me make it clear that my neighbor puts up with my medication, but don't come anywhere near it!

Daniel says the cops never come down our street anymore. Why not! I love the cops, they are my friends and protectors.

Ok, I guess I'm out there with the city of Lawrenceburg, TN. I am your new neighbor of going on five years. I have confessed to an illegal activity, that will eventually become legal when you need the money.

It helps me, I'm sorry. What more do you want?

If you want to arrest me, you know where I am. But what a waste of taxpayer dollars that would be...

So the cop sat directly in front of my house for a full minute, checking the scene out, running my record. He saw a door wide open at a little house on a dead end street. I am no threat to anyone, and I present none from my home.

I am the most law abiding person I know. Run my record, I haven't been an angel, but I'm a good guy!

After all of these seventy six years, of living, loving, drinking and smoking pot, is this it? Is it my destiny to rot and die in a Lawrenceburg, TN holding cell for this major offense? I ain't payin no bondsman ten percent!

Fuckallyouall! :-)

It's 2pm in Tennessee on a Wednesday afternoon, Mar 1, 2023. Fairly decent day, door wide open, enjoying life.

My way of dealing with the internal vibrations has been to numb them out.

By 2pm, I've created content, I'm well into my drink, and stoned. The combination makes life OK. It's an easy way to get through an otherwise tough day, full of self pity and vibrations.

If my daughter can make it out here at the end of the month, I will use her energy to combat that stuff naturally, and I will be straight.

Shelby is waiting in the wings, to join.

Ok, I have come out as a drunk and stoned man, in America. I do no other drugs, I don't sell my ass for a profit, I don't hurt people and I love to help people.

Actually, if the local police read this post, and decide that they need to knock down my door for a small pot baggy that will probably be empty before they arrive, fine! Throw me in the slammer! Sober me up! I'll do my time, I have no ducks to feed!

Update: My daughter Becky just called off her trip here in March, maybe Summer. This changes everything...


I just created a video to show the little cabinet next to my fridge, that I call my cubby hole. Maybe you're too young to remember this phrase, that's good!

Everybody needs a space to put their personal belongings in. It's your stuff, it's what makes you up, it needs to be close by when your home.

My big round table between two sweet chairs and a giant tv, is my secondary storage area. Everything that falls into the category of daily mission critical, sits there.

It's really important as you age, that you stay as organized as possible.

Some folks have big rooms dedicated to their awards and statues. And some folks don't even have a room, but I'll bet they have a cubby hole.

I'm lucky to have landed, after all these crazy years, with a few important things from my life, still intact, and with me! They're not in that drawer, they sit inside a box in my closet.

My bible as a kid. My daughter Becky's Easter hat, when she was a kid. Original editions of my PC graphics programs from the eighties. Life with Riley growing up stuff.

I also still have the teddy bear that I was given when I was born. How this has happened, amazes me!

Anyway, here's my latest video:

I was watching a TicTok video this morning where a guy was walking around a city crowd offering $500 to the first person who could name the U.S. President on a two dollar bill. Nobody could.

My first thought was Jefferson, so I pulled the little drawer next to my refrigerator open and looked at the Two Dollar bill laying there on top of everything.

I drove down to the Buc-ee's off I-65, in Athens, AL today. It was a touch more than an hours drive and the weather was beautiful.

I had three goals at this insane oversized store, buy two jars of pickled quail eggs, grab a briskett sandwich, along with a large cup of ice and a bottled water.

The quail eggs were totally sold out! Apparently, these things are popular. I can see somebody coming in and buying them all at $10 a piece, and then reselling them.

I got my briskett sandwich, and some water and ice. The sandwich was ok, not overly impressed with it. Needed coleslaw...

So here I am in Athens, AL at 1000, at the freeway intersection of I-65 and I-72. In a Buc-ee's parking lot, fourteen miles from Huntsville heading East, twenty six miles to Florence heading West. Or just mosey back North to home...

I chose West, to Florence Alabama. As I approached the Wilson Dam, I knew it was going to be open, and sailed right across it. Sometimes it's not, and the city's karma just feels off.

Hung out in Florence for a while, then drove North to home.