Day 4 - A Radio Signal

 

DAY 4 – January 4, 2026

Eyes in the Brush, Voices from the Past

Red Rock Canyon Campground gave me the best sleep yet—sheltered from the wind, flat ground, water on tap. Morning light filtered soft through the cliffs as I paid the core toll on a sun-warmed rock: five push-ups (arms steadier), eleven sit-ups (abs answering with less complaint), twenty seconds of plank while ravens wheeled overhead like black-cloaked scouts.

Then I shouldered the pack and started the climb out of the canyon. The road tilted upward, shoulders narrowed, and the real ascent to Mountain Springs summit began. Every step gained altitude, every breath pulled thinner air.

As I walked, eyes watched from the brush. Dozens of them—low, yellow, unblinking—tracking my progress from the creosote and Joshua trees. Coyotes, maybe the pack that lost two brothers on Day 1. Daylight kept them at bay; they prefer the dark, when a lone pilgrim is blind and slow. The hammer rode heavy on my hip, a silent reminder that respect goes both ways.

My watch crackled to life mid-stride, picking up a ghost signal that phased in and out with the terrain. An old radio station—some automated loop beaming nostalgia into the void, trying to remind whatever survivors are left that the world was once good and might be again.

The broadcast was an ancient football game: Ravens versus Steelers. Fitting name for this raven-haunted landscape where one wrong step could mean a sudden, feathered end.

“Flowers beats them deep as the Ravens take the lead…”

The voice faded behind a ridge, then surged back clear.

In the distance, a thin gray ribbon of smoke curled into the sky—the last breath of a dying campfire. I angled toward it, eyes scanning for movement, hammer hand itching.

“Gainwell for the score and the Steelers take the lead back…”

Closer now. No voices, no figures. Just embers glowing faintly in a ring of stones. Off to the side, a pile of sticks and dry leaves. I poked through it with my boot—metal glinted. A small pistol, rusted but functional, with a half-box of ammo nestled beneath.

Gift from the road? Trap? No one stepped out to claim it. I tucked the pistol and rounds into the pack anyway—out here you don’t question fortune, you just arm yourself against it.

Using a long stick I scattered the coals and smothered the last of the fire. No sense advertising my position to whatever left this behind.

“And the kick is WIDE RIGHT—STEELERS WIN!” the announcer screamed as the signal peaked one last time before dissolving into static.

Sounded like a hell of a game.

I ripped open a tuna pouch, emptied it straight into my mouth—salt and protein sliding down like victory—then kept walking. Steelers win. New weapon acquired.

Supplies still solid, but the thought crossed my mind: if the jerky runs low, there are plenty of yellow eyes out there that might dress out tasty with the right seasoning.

The summit loomed ahead. Beyond it, the long descent into deeper desert.

Tonight I’ll find another pull-off, pistol loaded beside the hammer, eyes on the dark.

Day 4 Numbers – Paid in Altitude and Armament

• Steps: 15,117
• Miles Logged: 7.14
• Core Tribute (Gentle Rebuild):
  • Push-ups: 5
  • Sit-ups: 11
  • Plank: 20 seconds

Mile Apocalypse Total: 28.33 / 2026

The eyes are still watching. The signal is gone. But the road keeps talking.

🏜️🔫🔨

Day 3: The Lords Day

 

DAY 3 – January 3, 2026

Sunday in the Canyon – God’s Flashlight and Makeshift Mass

The sun rose like God’s own spotlight, blasting straight into my eyes—no trees, no overhang, no mercy. I’d bivied out in the open, trusting the sleeping bag to keep the desert night from stealing my heat. It did its job, but dawn still punished me for the oversight.

Everything ached when I stirred. Legs, back, shoulders—and especially the core that had been neglected for far too long. I rolled out onto the gravel, faced the rising blaze, and paid the morning tithe: push-ups until my arms shook like faulty hydraulics, sit-ups that lit my abdomen on fire, a plank held just long enough for the burn to feel like penance.

I should have trained for this months ago. Packed smarter, pushed harder, prepared the body as thoroughly as the pack. But preparation was shortsighted—jerky, tuna, hammer, water, go. Now the wasteland is the trainer, and it charges interest in pain.

Still, I refuse to be vulture bait. Every trembling rep is a promise: I will get stronger, or the desert will take what’s left.

Today is Sunday. The Lord’s day, they used to call it. I don’t know if I believe in a God who’d let the world turn into this dust-choked exile, but out here under an endless sky there’s no harm in asking. Maybe a reward waits. Maybe it’s all wind and delusion. Either way, no steeple in sight, no pews, no preacher—just red rock cathedrals and silence.

So I made my own church.

Found a flat boulder overlooking the canyon, bowed my head, and spoke into the void.

“This is my blood—drink of it.” I tilted the bottle back, warm water sliding down like communion wine, refreshing, alive.

“This is my body—eat of it.” I tore into a strip of jerky, chewed slow, gave thanks for the salt and the smoke and the strength it lends.

Simple ritual. No choir, no collection plate. Just a man, a hammer at his hip, and a question tossed skyward: Guide me, or don’t. I’ll keep walking either way.

Ceremony done, I shouldered the pack and pointed my boots toward Red Rock Canyon Campground—a real spot with pit toilets, water spigots, maybe even a picnic table to call home for a night. Better shelter than open gravel, better rest for whatever the path demands next.

Once I’m there I’ll spread the maps, plot the true northern vector, and decide how far the hammer and I go before dark.

These boots were made for walking. And that’s just what they’ll do.

Day 2: Silent Backtracking

 

DAY 2 – January 2, 2026

The Quiet After the Storm

The hammer stayed in its loop today. No glowing eyes in the brush. No sudden snarls from the creosote shadows. After yesterday’s baptism in blood and adrenaline, the desert granted me the rarest gift it ever gives: silence.

New pants—thicker fabric, reinforced seams—held firm against the wind. The adrenaline crash hit hard once the Walmart cathedral faded behind me. Body heavy, legs leaden, mind foggy from the fight and the detour. Progress slowed to a deliberate trudge as I backtracked toward the sacred line on NV-160.

A couple strips of smoky jerky and a tuna pouch torn open roadside were enough. Salt and protein seeped in, the fog lifted, and the rhythm returned—one foot, then the other, the pack settling into its familiar weight.

Setbacks are minor. A few miles borrowed from the true path, a day of forward momentum traded for survival. The odometer doesn’t care about straight lines; it only counts the cost paid in sweat and steps.

Red Rock’s cliffs rose higher on the left, silent red giants watching an ant crawl across their feet. The city’s last lights winked out behind me. Ahead, the highway unspooled into open desert like a promise—or a threat.

I walk now in search of something I can’t yet name. Peace and happiness? Peace and quiet? Maybe just the sound of my own breath without the noise of the old life. Whatever it is, it isn’t back there in the suburbs. It’s out here, somewhere past the next bend, past the next gas station, past the ghosts and the neon temptations.

Danger still waits: wildlife that remembers yesterday’s lesson, weather that can turn in an instant, highway shoulders narrow as a razor’s edge. But for today the path was quiet, and quiet is its own kind of mercy.

These words go out into the void once called the internet—logs uploaded, progress marked. If anyone is still listening out there, reach out. Advice welcome. Supply drops even more so.

Until the next pump for fuel and a phone recharge, I’ll take the quiet while it lasts.

Mile Apocalypse Total: 13.09 / 2026

The road is listening now. Tomorrow it may speak again. Until then, I walk. 💀🏜️🔨

Day 1: The Journey into the Wasteland

 MILE APOCALYPSE 2026 – DISPATCH FROM THE WASTELAND

Day 1 | January 1, 2026 Blood on the Asphalt

The suburbs didn’t let me go quietly.

Less than one mile into the sacred northern vector—pack heavy with jerky that still carried the smoke of last night’s final BBQ—the desert sent its welcoming committee.

Two coyotes. Lean, mangy, eyes glowing like embers in the pre-dawn gray. They came fast and silent from both sides, drawn by the scent of meat and weakness.

I’ve lived on the edge of their territory long enough to never walk unarmed. The hammer—cold steel, familiar weight—came out of its loop in one motion.

The first lunged high. I caught it mid-air, hammer crashing into skull with a sound like splitting firewood. It dropped without a yelp.

The second clamped onto my backside. Teeth found fabric, not flesh—thank the 30 pounds I burned off in 2025. Those lost inches bought me life today. The pants, already loose, gave way with a violent rip. The coyote flew backward, a ragged chunk of black cloth in its jaws.

I spun. He charged again, balls swinging like a pendulum counting down my last seconds. My boot caught him under the jaw; the hammer followed, downward arc ending in a wet crunch. He lay still, steam rising from the body into the cold Nevada air.

I stood over the corpses, chest heaving, hammer dripping. Pulled it free, wiped it on the dead thing’s fur, slid it back into its case.

Then I looked at the damage: a gaping tear from waist to thigh, cold wind already knifing through. Two spare pairs in the pack, but light travel means every tear matters. Walk like this and the desert will bleed the heat out of me long before Goldwell or the Bunny Ranch.

Three choices:

1. Ignore the rip and freeze.
2. Burn a backup pair now.
3. Detour. Resupply. Live to walk another day.

I chose survival.

Course corrected east along Blue Diamond—straight to the Walmart cathedral of consumerism, 3–4 miles off the true path. New pants. Durable ones this time. Then back to US-95 to resume the pilgrimage.

It costs me forward progress. It sets the odometer back a day.

But the wasteland taught its first lesson: Adapt or become carrion.

Day 1 Numbers – Paid in Blood and Steps

• Steps: 15,687
• Miles Logged: 7.53 (including the fight, the detour prep, the grind)
• Bodyweight Tribute:
  • Sit-ups: 10
  • Push-ups: 2
  • Plank: 10 seconds
• Mercy Bank: Building (those Walmart miles still count toward Step Surge)

Progress Tracker – Ashes to Iron

Date	Push-ups	Sit-ups	Plank (sec)	Miles	Notes
Jan 1, 2026	2	10	10	7.53	First blood. Coyote skulls. Pants sacrificed. Detour earned.

New armor acquired soon. Then north again—hammer cleaned, eyes sharper.

The old me would have turned back after the attack.

The exile walks on.

Mile Apocalypse Total: 7.53 / 2026

The road is stained now. It knows my name.

What does tomorrow demand? I’ll pay the price.

Keep walking. Or join the coyotes in the dust. 💀🏜️🔨

A New Dawn, A New Day

 

MILE APOCALYPSE 2026 – DISPATCH FROM THE RUINS Mile 0 | Midnight, January 1, 2026 Death to 2025

The parties are over. The last slice of pizza devoured, the final beer guzzled, champagne fizzing into a hollow toast as the ball dropped. Midnight struck, and the world pretended everything reset with that magical countdown.

We all know the lie. Nothing changes in those ten seconds. Millions whisper resolutions into the dark, only to shatter them before the hangover fades.

Not me.

I'm burning it all down to build it back.

2025 lies in ashes behind me—old habits torched in the fires of one final night of debauchery. I rose from those embers this dawn, systematically rebuilding. Day by day. Decision by decision.

Thirty pounds already sloughed off like dead skin from the corpse of the old year. More to burn. Miles stretching ahead like scorched earth, forging me into something sharper, harder, unbreakable by journey's end.

I enter 2026 debt-free, a pilgrim with nothing but a backpack heavy with jerky and tuna pouches, a gallon jug of water, and this device to broadcast from the void.

Either I complete the 2026-mile exile north along US-95—through atomic ghosts, surreal sculptures, and the gates of the Bunny Ranch—or the Nevada desert claims me, coyotes picking clean the bones of the man who dared too much.

At 12:01 a.m., under a swollen moon mocking the revelry below, I stepped off the porch of [REDACTED] into the graveyard of suburbia. Confetti corpses littered the streets like fallout. Solo cups rolled in the wind, rehearsing for the tumbleweeds ahead. The neighborhood slept off its sins, unaware one soul had just incinerated his past.

Pack slung—sustenance for the wasteland. 75 Hard ignited. No cheats. No retreat.

The old world died with that door click. From its cinders, the exile rises.

marionevado.art

The road north opens like a wound. Red Rock fringes loom as the first arena. Goldwell ghosts wait mandatory. Temptation beacons from the horizon.

Burn it all. Rise reborn.

Mile Apocalypse Total: 0 / 2026 75 Hard Streak: Day 1 Weight Lost Pre-Exile: 30 lbs Mercy Bank: Empty—for now.

The ashes cool. The pilgrimage ignites at first light.

What remains to incinerate? The desert will decide. 💀🏜️🔥

dreamstime.com

A Long Walk

 Going into 2026 I have a few goals that I want to accomplish.

The main one is that I want to have lost a total of 100 pounds by my 50th birthday. This weight loss started in October 2025.

I plan on being more active for the year and eating better, working on things a little bit at a time.

One of my exercise goals is to walk a total of 2026 miles for the year, and I will be attempting to do a weekly blog to go along with it detailing a long walk starting on January 1st.

I will be utilizing Google Maps, Grok and my imagination to go from my door step to places unknown over the course of this journey.  I have a few ideas of where I want to walk to, but it is going to be a work in progress as everything is up for change an interpretation.

I know my first destination, but I do not know how I will get there, how long it will take or anything that might side track me.

This is where Grok comes into play.

Grok, if you don't know, is just the Elon Musk AI bot/app/whatever.

I am telling Grok where I start, where I want to go and that we are using actual paths to get there.  Grok will utilize google maps to plan out my route, let me know where milestones happen. Help me find gas stations, towns, attractions, etc.  Then I will walk to those and talk about my journey and make up a million things along the way.

I've been wanting to get back into writing a bit, so I'm using this as an excuse to do it and hope that I can at least be mildly entertaining along the way.

My first roadblock is ....  this blog and square space.

Everything was working fine until my domain imported over to square space which caused it to stop being viewable and a "website coming soon" page went up in it's place.

So, This will be published and I'm going to go work on figuring out how to get it viewable again.

Wish me luck.

If you're reading this, I succeeded.

2026 is on the horizon

 2026 is right around the corner and I've got a few things on my plate that I'm looking forward to.

The biggest one is that I have been making my own BBQ Sauces and I plan on selling them at Farmers Markets locally, in Las Vegas.

I've been taking samples to work and having co-workers try them out and so far it's been positive.

I have someone making lables for me so that I can put them on the bottles when I have batches to sell.

I plan on having a website running with information so people can contact me to order.

Demon Drip - My Favorite

So far all is going well and I'm looking forward to putting my effort into this venture.

I've already got friends and family back home waiting for me to get ready to launch so that they can buy sauces and have me ship them out.

Other things on the horizon, in no particular order.

I plan on being debt free before the end of 2026.

I am working on my physical and mental health to be a better person in a multitude of ways.

I have a goal of losing a total of 100 pounds by the end of September.

I started reading the Bible for various reasons and plan on reading a little each day until I convert to catholicism or my brain explodes.

I'm probably going to do 75 hard again in 2026 - I need some focus.

I'm also planning on walking 2026 miles in 2026 and I have an idea of turning it into a fun (fun to me, maybe not to anyone else) story that I'll share on the blog in intervals.

I'll share more as the time is right.

Can't wait to reveal more BBQ sauces as I get the lables (Currently printing out labels but I'm getting samples of stickers that I can buy to attach as well).

Hope y'all doing well - whoever that might stumble upon this that is.

Reunited

 

As all things come to pass, my parents are now reunited in the afterlife.

I'm trying hard to believe that there is an afterlife and that they are together again and enjoying each others company.

My heartache will dull with time as will the children's.

I miss you both tremendously.

2025 - Another New Year

 It's been over a year since my fingers graced these pages.  Since my last posting a lot has happened. I realize that I used to come around to write to help me cope with things or to get thoughts out of my head so that I could deal with life better and over the past year that probably would have done me good.

However, time moves on and life changes.

We are now sitting firmly in 2025 and life continues to change and evolve.  Today I gave my daughter her last Xmas gift which is a quad so that she can ride around with her brother in the neighborhood.

He is the one who follows the rules and does things properly and she is the one I have to worry about. But, that's why she has to ride with him so he can keep her in line.

So, what is going on for 2025?

Well, I'm glad you asked.

I'll be playing Video Games.

I'll Be grilling Meats.

I'll be Drinking Beers.

I'll be Playing Pokers.

The more things change, the more they stay the same I guess.

I'm at a point where I feel like I'm ready to start playing poker again.  I have a teeny tiny bankroll of wadded up cash in my sock that I'm going to start taking to the casinos (probably mostly South Point) and playin super tight while waiting for pocket aces so that I can get my money in pre-flop and hope that my opponent doesn't get lucky. You know, until I build up a few buy-ins and can play super loose and aggressive until I blow almost all of my money and have to resort to buying in short and pushing all in with anything that looks like it could help me win a pot.

I'm also going to work on losing weight again.  I've done it before and it's time to do it again.  I'm not giving pounds as there is no use for that, but I'll talk about successes and failures as I'm trying to get healthier.  

I'll also resort to posting my grilling success stories and pictures of smokey meats that make mouths water and panties wet.  I'm not 5 star chef, but my family enjoys what I cook and I definitely want to start making more (different) items on the grill.

When I say grill - I mean any of my backyard outdoor appliances that the wife has come to accept as I cook more which means she gets to cook less.

I also want to work on upgrading these backyard appliances over the course of the next year or so as I use them all the time and feel like I should treat myself to something better in one way or another.

For instance, I have a 22" griddle that I use.  However, I want to retire this griddle to use as our camping/mountain excursion griddle and get a bigger one for the back yard.  As it is now, when I'm doing steak and cheese sandwhiches I don't have enough room to cook everything all at once.  So, I have to cook things in a rotation in order to accomplish the goal.  More room will lead to a happier grrouch. This will also lead to drinking less which, I guess, is good in the long run.

Trapper Old Dudes

So, here is to a better 2025. Weather it is a happier 2025, a healthier 2025 or just a more fun 2025.

Life is short, make it better.

In theory - Tomorrow will be my first poker session of the year and hopefully I can bring back some good news to talk about how I am destroying the poker tables and picking up all the pussy.

Peace out and Trapper on dudes.

Bafangool

I've been slow to post lately and there is a lot going through my head.  But, between being constantly busy with life and death and just generally trying to deal with things I haven't really been able to put finger to keyboard properly and be coherent.

However, I had to share.

I'm at work recently.  The other day, the other week. The other something. Time just kind of bleeds right now.

But I'm at work and this older lady comes into my department and is looking at options to replace her flooring. (by the way, I'm typing on a chromebook that I don't usually use and the keyboard is smaller and thus the keystrokes aren't exactly where I am used to them being.  If you catch mistakes, especially in spelling, it is because I either missed that correction or I just didn't care to keep fixing them).

This lady is older and italian. She is telling me about certain things she wants to do and that she has had quotes from other companies over the past 5 years. She is going into details I don't care to know but is also giving me good information so that I can help lead her to something maybe she would be happy with.

However, she goes into this story about how she had a flooring quote and a window quote.  The window quote, from a company I have no affiliation with, came back at like 50 grand or higher.  She is explaining how the guys giving the quote are trying to convince her to drop 50k because they work on expensive, multi-million dollar homes and those quotes are higher.  She says that "my house is 250k, why in the hell would I put 50k worth of windows into a 250k home, it makes no sense to drop that much money.

As she is talking and relaying this story she gets to the point where she turns the crew down and tells them that it is too expensive and she is not interested.

She looks at me and says, "You know, why the hell do they think my little house should put that much money worth of windows into it.  Bafangool!"

I pause.

I smile.

My eyes water.

I don't know if she caught it, if she ignored it, whatever.  All I know is that I'm having a good day and enjoying random conversations with strangers at work and this lady drops a Bafangool on me, out of nowhere.

In all of my years, 47 of them now, I have now only run across two people who I have ever heard utter this phrase.  

The first was my dad.  He used it a lot when I was in my middle school and high school years.  It was just a common expression from him.

Now, here I am, weeks after his passing and some random lady enters my life and drops a random Bafangool on me and shortly later just disappears to go off and think about what she wants to do, probably never to be seen again (by me - no one murdered her, no need to look into it).

I've come a long way from my younger years when I thought I was an athiest and now realize that I'm probably just agnostic.  I don't know what I believe in or where life is actually headed.

But, one thing I am one thousand percent sure of is that through this random encounter my Old Man was telling me that everything is going to be alright and to lighten the fuck up. Life is too short to waste it on being unhappy.

Bafangool indeed, dad, Bafangool!

I honestly needed that.

It's so hard to say goodbye

I have tried to compose this many times over the past week and have come up blank every time. The only conclusion I can come up with is that I do not want to accept the fact that it is real.

Every single day.  Multiple times every day, I find something that reminds me of you.  A look, a joke, a noise or even just a random drink on a table will take me back to a memory that is seared into my brain involving you.

That's normal. I spent nearly 47 years of life with you in one form or another. From living in the same house and seeing you daily to living across the country and only talking to you occasionally.

You were with me through the best times of my life and the worst times.  You got to experience the three greatest joys of my life and I can move forward with no regrets because of that. 

I started life with you in it.  You helped me grow older and turn into the man I have become. You helped me through some really tough years in middle school and through all of my younger asthma problems.  You were there for me in High School when I was a not-quite-typical teenager but still dealing with teen issues.  You were really there for me when I went away to college and you would drive mom up to see me at the drop of a hat.  If that was to visit or even just to come up and grab my laundry (because I was too lazy to do it).

You were there when I almost died of an asthma attack, multiple times in fact.

After college you were there for me when I went through a relationship crisis and the ended up moving across the country.

You were there for my next crisis and the next and the next.

You were there when I got married and when my children were born. You got to hold both of your grandbabies and love them and spoil them.

You were always there and you loved every minute of it, and even if you didn't you never complained.

This is what makes it all so hard, you were always there for me when I needed it and in your last moments I was unable to make it back in time to be there for you, with you.

I know that you know I love you, always have and always will. But, it breaks my heard that I have to live with the fact that in your final moments I wasn't quick enough to make it to you.

Feeling sorry for myself will not help, it just hurts. I'm just having trouble moving on.  I'm not dealing with your death well.

You can know something is coming and you can think you are prepared for it, but in this instance I realize I was not ready for anything.

I miss your voice.

The other day I was deleting some voicemails and I ran into the last one I ever received from you.  You called me completely by accident and you are talking to someone in the background.

I hit play and the moment I heard your voice I balled my eyes out.  I will never delete that message.

You mean so much to me and my life. What I am, what I was, what I will be.  How I raise my kids and how I hope they grow up. I am sad you won't get to see them get older.

Sad you won't get to see Jacob continue to play soccer, won't get to see Sofia become a balarina and do her crazy dances. Sad you won't get to throw pillows at them again or build things, see their graduation or weddings.

But you will always be there, you will always be in my memories and thoughts and I don't ever want them to fade.

I feel incomplete without you right now and I know that over time I won't be so sad and miserable all the time and I know that all of your suffering has ended and you have nothing to worry about and that everyone helping to take care of you can breathe a sigh of reliefe knowing you are in a better place watching down over us.

I just love you so much and I miss you so fucking much.

Rest in Piece dad. friend. everything.

I hope I do you proud.

 

Middle Aged John Wick

 Today I just at at home, alone and in the dark, watching movies and letting my mind melt.

My old man called me and we spoke for about a minute.  But, he called me because he was trying to reach mom and called me to ask me how to call her.

His voice sounds off lately, as if he is talking with a mouthful of cotton balls.

Man I want a beer or three now.

Movies.

Today I finished watching Halloween Ends.  I didn't get a chance to finish it last time because right near the end my wife realized that our 5 year old daughter snuck in and was watching and those end scenes are highly not appropriate for young kids.

After that I watched Champions, which is a movie where White Man who Can't Jump gets fired from a job, drunk drive crashes into police cars and then is sentenced to coach a special olympic basketball team. Overall it was very enjoyable. 

After that I put on a movie I had been wanting to watch for a long time, Nobody.  This turned out to be a highly enjoyable violent russian murdering romp.  It was essentially middle aged John Wick.

I need more movie suggestions if anyone has any good ones.

Keep yo Chin up

Life has been too busy lately but sometimes that is exactly what I need. Right now, in my down time, I am watching Air on Amazon Prime. Last night, with the wife, I watched Halloween Ends. Normally, these are the hours that I would be sitting down with a video game but lately I want to do less than think. I don't want to hit buttons, I don't want to decide the fate of the world. I want to sit around in my undewear and just let a good story remove me from my existance even for just a couple of hours. 

My son has Soccer practice 3 days a week. My daughter will have soccer practice 2 days a week. Sadly, they don't overlap. So, Monday - Friday will be practice and games are on Saturday. On my days off I attend every practice. When I'm working I'm taking long lunches if I have the chance so that I can join the practices and help coach the kids. And now, on Saturday's I'll be one of the guys coaching my boys U10 team since Coach will be coaching U8. It all started when a few members of last years team (including my kid) had to advance to U10 because of age. Coach didn't want to break the team up and next year the rest of the team will jump to U10 as well. So, after much talking and some buy-in from myself and a couple other fathers, the team will have a U8 and a U10 squad. It basically means that for the next year I'll be in a phase of never stop running. 

Right now, that is exactly what I need. Keep moving, keep myself and my mind busy. 

April 2022: 

This is when things started going downhill. Had no idea where it was heading. 

In April my old man took a trip to California to have a meeting to get his van altered in order for him to get in and out of his vehicle easier. He has one knee fused and limited mobility, this as going to make his life easier. Then, while he was in his hotel, he fell. 

I'll never know what actually led to him falling or how it happened. I'm pretty sure that he has told me multiple different stories and none of it actually matters. What matters is that he fell, his non-fused knee was damaged and he couldn't move it and it couldn't be touched for months. 

Fast forward a couple of months where constant bed-rest but the lack of any improvement led to deterioration of health and my old-man comes up with a case of pnemonia and his lung collapses. 

He was in a coma for a week to 10 days and that is where shit really took a turn. Nothing has gone right since then. Everything has gone fucking wrong. His strength continues to to deteriorate. His mental abilities have gone downhill and recently diagnosed with dementia. He has been in and out of hospitals and assisted living facilities. 

He has not been home with mom since April 2022. It's been over a year and I still don't know how to handle it. I'm trying my best to have a balance in life, but I don't think it will exist for some time. I work my 40, I play with my kids and help with their soccer coaching and I run and do everything for my mom since she doesn't drive. Groceries, Doctor visits, take her to visit my old-man. 

Every day I'm running somewhere to do something for someone. 

Days off are almost non-existent. I'm slacking on my duties at home because I'm constantly physically and, more importantly, mentally drained. Everything that I have liked to do for myself, my leisure, has all taken a back seat. 

I'm having trouble existing, functioning, keeping it all together and acting like everything is fine. Somedays I feel I'm on the verge of a mental break down. I can't let that show though because I need to be strong and present for everyone. I need to be there to support my mom who, obviously, is not (i snot) taking this easy. I have to be there for my old-man who needs all the support that he can get in his time of need. 

Last week we were told that he is probably on limited time and we should look into hospice care to make his life easier and more comfortable until the end. 

Once again, that fucking broke me. I'm weak. This is why I have turned back to writing. I just need an outlet. I need a place to bang on the keys and just let things out in watever form that takes. 

Writing has worked as therapy for me before. 

Calgon, take me away.

Hard Factor: Pre-Season

April 2023:

Ain't She a Beaut?

So there I was, roaming Walmart with my wife when the text message came through. New Hard-Core draft, being organized by Hard Corn Porn legend Dirty Dave Storms!!! Register now or go limp forever.

I've been waiting for an opportunity like this my entire life. Slop Knob with a celebrity and slowly rise to fame.

I clicked on the link without asking any questions and quickly threw the entry fee into my League Safe account, pulling it out of my child's college savings account.

Before I even went through the motions, I knew that this was going to be a sin I was going to have to atone for in the very near future. But, Fuck it, greatness awaits.

June 2023:

After two months of tough negotiations and trying to find the Scum of the Earth, Dirty Dave succeeds in forming a complete league and the draft begins.

Draft Central

There is lots of wheeling and dealing and tough decisions. I often visited my local homeless shelters and hospice centers to get advice from people who have had a tough life because we all know the harder your life the better your decision-making process.

The homeless guys would give me advice for food. Or Weed. Or Beer. Or Liquor. Or a Handy. They weren't really picky, they just wanted something in return.

As for the hospice, I made sure to hit up the dementia ward so that they wouldn't want anything in return (except some nice old-fashioned companionship) and if they did want something they didn't remember it by the next time I arrived.

Mistakes were made.

The biggest mistake was having a joint bank account with my wife who saw the payment to the league and where the money came from.

Then telling her "Look bitch, I'm an adult and I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

Things I learned in June:

1 - Don't mess with a Mexican woman who has a big family.

2 - She can have the locks changed in the entire house pretty damn quickly

3 - It is possible for someone to freeze you out of a bank account with your name on it.

That's how I ended up living out of my Toyota Corolla with only the money in my wallet and the clothes on my back. But, with the right attitude I set out to who-knows-where not knowing how I was going to survive long enough to win this league, gain huge profits and convince my wife to take me back.

August 2023:

I consider my state of joblessness more of an early retirement or a long, overdue, vacation than I consider it being homeless. It makes me feel better to look at it in a more positive light so I don't accidentally get too depressed and Kurt Ka-Bang myself (As if I had the ability to seduce Courtney Love, marry her and have her off a 2nd husband while making it appear like a suicide.)

The reason why I have decided to start this journal (it's not a diary asshole) and start it now is two-fold. I have a LOT of free time on my hands. Like a-lot a lot.

I was finally able to barter my way into this Chromebook that I am typing on. I thought about using my phone but I don't want to develop carpal tunnel. We're not going to discuss what was actually bartered and how I found out that Rock-Bottom has more than just one layer. I've cried a lot since then.

Now you're caught up.

I'm sitting here at a McDonalds inside of a Walmart in order to get their free Wi-Fi so I can connect to the internet and see if anyone sent me any trades: Spoiler-Alert, they did not.

I'm currently in Las Vegas trying to get enough money to put gas in my car to head down to Texas where my first opponent resides (you know, provided he actually gave the right information and isn't a lying bastard).

I'm winning this league - by hook or by crook. I desperately need the money.

If I don't feel like my team can pull off a clean victory then I'm willing to make things happen, if you know what I mean.

National Toilet Paper Day

 Let us sit back and reflect for a minute on an invention that has truly revolutionized the world.

Other than you fancy screwballs with the anal squirt gun, can you imagine your life without toilet paper? This nifty roll of thank god I don't have to use the cat, the towel or the drapes saves you a lot of time and effort.  I mean, who wants to shower every time they have to poop?  Who wants skid marks in their undies?

Toilet Paper is truly one of the greatest inventions of our life time and that includes things like the Fleshlight

d

Somewhere, in a tote probably at my parents house, I still have a roll of Beavis and Butt-Head Buttwipe Toilet paper.  I mean, what child of the 90s who grew up worshipping at the alter of the Great Cornholio didn't have a roll of this laying around for those special occasions?

Is there a greater fear that popping a squat and reaching over only to find out that someone else (or, let's admit it, it was you. You lazy asshat. You did it and didn't replenish after because you expected someone else to do it for you and now you sit her with shit between your cheaks and have to make a walk of shame to clean yourself while hoping nothing falls out during that walk and you have to clean the floor.... and scary to think if it falls out on the carpet) didn't put a new roll on after they finished the old roll.  Is there another one close? Is there someone in the house that you can call to in order to bring you a fresh roll or do you have to figure this out on your own?

Now, Imagine that you are wiping your tushy and you misjudge something and now have some shit on your hands.

Imagine that you just grab some TP and you wipe that crap off of your hands and then leave the bathroom?

Gross right?  I mean, You need soap and water to clean your hands when you didn't touch some fecal matter so you need MORE soap and water when your hands got some poo on them.

Why is it acceptable to to use a dry piece of paper to wipe pool off of your anus when you probably didn't get it all and now you have that smell festering in there.

Let's abandon TP all together and move towards at least using Wet Wipes because you can't clean shit without having some sort of moisture.

Thank you all for coming ot my TP talk.

Hi, It's me, again

I typed out a post.

I was unsatisfied with it.

I rambled and didn't say a fucking thing.

What I want to say is that I have the desire to start typing again.

This space is kind of therapy to me and I'm more drawn to it when I'm not in a great mental space and, quite frankly, I haven't been in a good mental space for quite some time.

That's not to say that there isn't a lot of good going on in my life - there absolutely is.

However, I've been holding the weight of the world on my shoulders for a while now with nobody lean on. No shoulder to cry on.  Just keeping it all bottled up inside and I know that isn't good for me.

I see the results, I feel the effects.

I need to talk.

I need to vent.

I need to get some things off of my chest.

I also have the desire to be a bit more creative and in the back of my head I have a story to tell. It's going to be disjointed and probably not make much sense at times, and it's going to revovle around a Fantasy Football league because I just want to be stupid for shits and giggles.

I don't know where I'm going but I damn sure know where I've been.

As I scream into the void I hope that someone is still listening.

I look back at this space of the internet very fondly and there has to be a reason I pay my yearly fee to keep the site alive right?

So, let me put it to use - Let me get back into the groove of story telling on this super old fashioned medium that has basically gone out of style and been replaced but yet still exists for the hardcore and the old fashioned and those not willing to let go of the past.

It's approaching 2 am, I couldn't sleep.  I have work tomorrow so I'm going to hit post and attempt to get a few hours in.

I'm off on Sunday so when I sit down to do this again late Saturday night I'm going to do it with a couple of beers....

scratch that

a couple of Hard Mountain Dew's in me.

The Local Fish Swims Again (but, you know, not at a poker table.... what is poker anyway?)

Fatman, Poker and Feedburner

 Fellow former poker blogger Lightning36 is in town and will be hitting up some spots for some poker.  Of course that means that I am, naturally, working late during most of this visit.  I received the message that tonight he will be hitting up South Point which is my current hangout and I will make every effort to meet up and get some cards in.

However, I work until 11pm which means that those damn fish might have already gone broke before I even get out of work.  That will not deter me from making a b-line to the casino after work and increasing the value of my sock-roll as I continue my journey to financial independence so that I can shed the restraints of my J-O-B and become a travelling poker player like our good buddy TBC.

Friday night I also work until 11, but Saturday and Sunday I am off so maybe one of those days I can catch up with some out of town friends before they head back to their own personal hell away from beautiful Las Vegas.

I'm continuing my journey to getting down to 200 pounds over at FatManinVegas and I threw up a new post today with some information.  I'm going to keep most of my personal development over there while I talk more and more about degeneracy here.  I will link back and forth when necessary for those who might  be interested in reading more of my words, but I feel that most of the people who come here prefer the seedy side of life.

And finally, Google has decided to kill another of their apps in Feedburner.  Feedburner was a way of subscribing to a blog so that you would get an email when a new one was posted and the big G decided that it just isn't worth keeping around any longer.

I have about 31 people that subscribe to me through the service, which really isn't much, so I'll be looking for a replacement.

Hopefully I get to see CokeHead (snicker) and Lightning at the tables tonight.

Tax Refund and Uncle Biden's Stimmy saved my savings account

 You know what feels all nice and satisfying?  Watching Uncle Biden's stimmy money hit my account and then doing my taxes and almost matching that number.

So, the good news is that when the tax refund hits my account in the next week or so we will have a fully funded emergency fund siting there staring at me.  Ideally we want to get this account to $20k and after these two big deposits we won't be far off.

On the poker side of life - after going through some expenses and suffering a crushing defeat my last outing, I will be sitting with about a grand in my sock-roll.

The last session was pretty brutal. 

It was full of all the standard beats that one receives while playing poker, only it was all strung together in one 2.5 hour session.  Flopped 2 pair vs flopped straight.  Flopped Set vs Flopped straight.  Flopped Set vs Turned bigger set.  Boat vs Quads.  Guy calling all his chips into the middle with a random flush draw vs your nut flush draw and winning because he caught a 3 to make a pair.  Lots of fun stuff.

And, by the end of my session I was down about $70 thanks to South Point having a promotion where they gave me money because I flopped a set with pocket 4s.  Yes, technically I didn't "win" that money  but what comes off the poker table is poker money.  It all goes to the same stinky, sweaty sock in the long run.

Today I do have a to make a trip to the store to buy some Burgers and Steaks so that I have food for the next week at work.  Since completing 75Hard I have definitely slacked off a bit and since my vacation I've really given in to temptation and need to make a change.  So, since I have gained a little bit of it back I need to take that off again and start working on my journey towards 200 pounds again.

So, that is going to involve a nice Low Carb High Protein diet that will consist of a large dose of burgers and steaks fresh off my grill!

 Honestly, over the years I have always hated cooking.  I turned to the microwave.  Over the years I have learned to love the toaster oven but nothing has truly made me enjoy cooking until I started learning the ways of the charcoal grill.

Every week it brings me great joy to spend a couple hours with my grill making food for the family.  Usually this means grilling 10+ burgers for the kids (sometimes only last for 2 days) and then some better quality burgers for myself and the wife.  Throwing a few steaks on or doing up a large batch of chicken wings.

The grill is my time of peace and relaxation, at least most of the time.  Sometime the kids love to interfere or demand my attention or just want to come out and ask a million questions.  However, it is all part of the charm of my life and I love every minute of it.

So, today I'll be shopping for some meat and potentially I'll fire up the grill today (maybe tomorrow) and take my family to Flavortown!

Paying for my Shelves

 One of the best things about working in a retail environment is being able to get some great deals that go above and beyond what any sale price could do.  A couple of those opportunities presented themselves in the form of shelving units that I can use in my garage to organize the horrible mess that is out there.

I grabbed a 5 Tier Craftsman unit which, honestly, is my second choice because the Commander version is Black and Yellow and better represents my true colors.  However, the price was more than right and I couldn't turn down the deal just because it didn't fit my preferred color scheme.

The other thing I bought was a Garage Cabinet by Kobalt which is metal and supposed to be a wall cabinet.  I now have two of them that I bought probably 8 years apart and both of them were on killer deals.  I doubt I'll wall mount them but they can still sit on the floor and be used to hide things.

After tax I was down about $50 bucks and that came straight out of my wallet.  Luckily I was working a late shift and when I called my wife on the drive home everyone was already in bed sleeping.  This meant that I was going to get a couple hours at the tables.

I drove to South Point and there was a seat open.  Now that their Winter Free-Roll is over and they are not running another one there are less tables running at midnight than previous, but there were still a good amount of games going.  I sat down and tried to size up my opponents and see where the opportunities were not knowing that I was going to get a great feel for the table within minutes.

My first orbit had me raising with 88 in late position to 10 and having a short stack come over top of me for 30.  It folded back around to me and when I looked at his chips I saw that he only had $58 total so I just put my chips in the middle which he, of course, snap called.

The Board ran out 2, 4, 7, J, A and he flipped over A3 for the win saying "I ain't afraid."  Within the next two orbits I would find out that he truly played every ace he had and most of them aggressively trying to get a win.

Three hands later I found myself calling a small raise with 55 and going to the flop 3 handed.

K24 hit the flop and I bet out and both players called.  The turn was a 6 which got checked around.  The River was a lovely 5!

First position made it $8, I made it 40, and he made it $80.  The kid in the hand with me I have previously played with and generally he is very aggressive with his draws.  He also likes to buy in for about half stack and try to build up from there.  I have never found him to be good or tricky and I haven't seen him make a play like this previously.  It was within his range to have a suited 3 or pocket 3s here so I called and he showed KK for flopped top set. 

Ouch.  Not a great start to winning back my $50!

About an orbit later I found myself in a spot where I believe I played scared because of those two hands.

I'm on the button with 35 suited and there was a raise to 10 with 2 callers.  I called and so did the blinds.

Flop came out 33J.  Raiser made a decent bet which I called and one other guy called.

Turn was a King and a guy in the blinds lead out for 50 which got called by the original raiser and myself.

The River was a lovely 5 giving me a boat.

The original raiser kept eyeing up my stack specifically and trying to decide what to do and finally led out for 15 into a nearly $200 pot.  I had about $150 behind and she had me more than covered.  She never looked at the other player in the hand and kept eyeing up my stack and then looking at hers.

I 100% played this hand like a bitch when I just called her $15 thinking that she was trying to get me to make a raise and commit myself to the rest of my stack.  Playing scared I squarely put her on JJ or KK for the bigger boat.

I called, the other guy called and my boat destroyed what everyone else had.  I kicked myself. I berated myself.  I let my minor string of bad luck in those two hands (and how my last session ended) influence this hand in which if I got unlucky I probably should have gone broke, but I should have given myself the opportunity to win more.  I should have raised.

This blog, since inception, has been called Confessions of a Local Fish.

That hand proves that I am a Fish.  My apologies dear reader.

However, that hand got me to more than even.  I was up $55 and considered leaving because I made back my money and could go home even for the night.

However, I kept playing.

I got myself into another hand with the guy who plays any Ace where I raised pre-flop to $15 with AQ and he bumped it to $35.  I bet $90 to cover his chips and he called (he had $89).  

Board runs out 2, 5, 7, 10, J and he turns over 33 for the win.

Idiot 2, Fish 0

Later I get into another hand with him where he rivers trip queens.

Idiot 3, Fish 0

Later I get into another hand with him where his NUTS (4 2 Suited) flops 2 pair against my over pair.

Idiot 4, Fish 0

Winding down and considering going home down $100 (plus $50 from the purchases) I raise with TJ in late position and get multiple callers.

Flop comes out 89A with two diamonds and I have the Jack of Diamonds.  I lead out for $35 and get one caller from the blinds.

Turn is a 7 of Diamonds and he leads out for $60 into me.  He has bought  back into the game 3 or 4 times for $300 each time and is one of the reasons I am still at the table.  He has been in this situation multiple times and has never had the flush here, so I called.

River is a K of Diamonds giving me a Jack High Flush and he checks to me.

I bet $50 and he calls with 56 off suit for the low straight.  My Jack of Diamonds takes it down (my straight also would have had the same effect).

A few hands later, and my last real hand, I am on the button with Q9s and make it $15.  Idiot calls me and one other guy who plays tight and then randomly plays weird called.

Three to the flop of 469 rainbow.  Checks to me and I bet $25 and get two callers.

Turn is a 9 giving a flush draw potential.  I check to Idiot who pushes all in for $75 or so.  Original raiser goes all in for about $75 or so.  I put out a stack of $100 to cover them.

Idiot flips over 97 for trip 9s. with a straight draw.  Forgetting that there is a 3rd player in the hand but so excited to actually be ahead of the Idiot and turn over my Q9.

Third Wheel turns over his 44 for flopped set and turned Boat.  I think to myself that I legitimately have 5 outs here and no matter what I am leaving after this hand.

River is a Queen giving me a boat and the pot and I cash out with $490 giving me a $190 win for the evening.

Idiot 4, Fish 1 - But the Fish got the Last Laugh on this Occasion.

Next post I'll update where my magical poker bankroll actually exists and we'll see how far I can run it up and how long I'll continue to keep posting to this blog.

Fish Out

Fart on Cops

I'm an avid gamer.  Some of my earliest memories are playing Ms Pac-Man on an arcade machine in the Bar where my grandmother worked.  I was given quarters to feed into that machine and some pinball, but Ms. Pac-Man was what held my interest.

As the years went on I continued to play games as systems made their way into the house.  The first system I remember having was a Pong system which had a switch that turned Pong into Hockey.  These are my memories and if I can ever come across another of these systems I would be sure to own it just to satisfy the collector in me.

Now that I'm a middle aged, grey haired white guy (grey or gray?  I feel it could go either way but I'm not about to look up the proper usage) I still am knee deep into the hobby, but with a j-o-b I have been able to afford to build a tremendous backlog.

The last time I didn't own all of the current systems was during the initial Playstation era.  I bought the Playstation for Final Fantasy 7, skipping the N64.  However, I have owned all systems after that phase of my life.

This brings me to current life where I have a house full of systems that multiple people play on.  Both kids play on Playstation 4 systems.  I have an Xbox One X that gets used when my teen has friends visiting so that they have a system to hook up and play the latest Call of Duty.  Each of my kids has a Switch (as do I).  And I own, but the kids cannot touch, the Playstation 5 and Xbox Series X.

I have Game Pass Ultimate which I do believe my subscription ends in 2023 (or at least late 2022) and I have Playstation Plus for a few more months.  Those two subscription services make it so that I don't actually have to spend money on Video games very often, if ever.  I could, theoretically, never buy another game again and just play games that are available through those services (except for Nintendo Games of course).

I bring this up because all of my extra activity money has to come from my poker playing and not my paycheck.  The Paycheck is for household expenses only. 

I am trying to build discipline in multiple areas of my life and this will help me build discipline in the financial aspect of it.

I only bring all of that up because today I say down with my boy to play some Outriders (available everywhere except for the Switch) and after about 30 or so minutes their servers crashed.  Per their Twitter account, multiple hours later, they are still working on trying to figure out why it crashed and re-build the infrastructure to help make sure it won't happen again.

My boy is playing it (or will be) on his Playstation 4 (bought for Easter by grandparents) and I am playing it on Xbox because it launched into Gamepass.  It is made by the same people who did Bulletstorm which is one of my kids favorite games.

So far the game is a fun mixture of gun play, bad story telling and equipment upgrades which means I'll probably put a couple hundred hours into it when all is said and done as I have been looking for a new game to fill my Diablo/Borderlands cravings.

So, because the servers were down I ended up going outside to take a walk and enjoy nature on my last day of vacation before being forced to return to work and be accosted by customers again.

At the beginning of my walk I ran into this little man, I will call him Franklin.

Franklin and I talked about how it was a nice warm day and how glad we are that "winter" is over.  Franklin is not looking forward to the next few months because he runs serious risk of dehydration in the desert heat if he cannot find good shade and a supply of water.

I promised Franklin that I would start leaving out a little dish of water in my backyard for him to get some much needed hydration should he ever wonder over to my neck of the neighborhood.  I gave him directions to my house, he then thanked me and scurried off into the drainage under the road.

I have serious doubts about my ability to remember to put the water dish out, but he'll probably be hit by a car before he can ever guilt trip me about my negligence.

On my walk I had plenty of time to think about the situation I am in and how to make it better.  There are many aspects of my life that I need to improve in and I'm going to start working on them instead of putting them off for the mythical tomorrow.

I still have weight to lose and am contemplating going through 75 Hard again. I'd like to lose another 30 pounds and get down to 200 even.

I need to get my finances in order.  There are debts that need paid off. There are savings accounts that need to be filled up.  There are college funds that need to be maxed out.  The world is bloody expensive when you sit down and really look at things.

On the back half of my hour long walk I ran into some fun graffiti (and, honestly, thanks to google I just discovered that graffiti has two F's but only one T).

I hope this isn't just the super polite and super white version of the N.W.A. Classic.  Instead I imagine that this is advertising a grunge (I'm a child of the 90's and it will never die in my heart) garage band that is forming in our neighborhood by some of the local teens who aspire to have musical ability.

I assume that in the near future I'll start to see parts of their songs on TikTok and the police will get monthly noise complaints as they get together for a Jam Session after all of their homework is done and their parents disinfect the garage and put big black X's with Duct Tape to make sure the band is using proper social distancing procedures.  I mean, you wouldn't want to be the cause of your own band mate's demise, although I do suppose that is the shit that starts legends.  "Yeah, Franklin kept playing off key so we low-key gave him Covid-19 and now need a new guitar player."   Hell Yeah - Fart on Cops is going to make it big one day.

I'm drinking water to stay hydrated. I'm looking for a Futon for my gaming room so I can have a bed to sleep on. I'm checking the Outriders Twitter every three minutes to see if I can get some gaming time in before I hit the casino tonight for my last vacation poker session.

I'll have to remember to check Spotify daily for my new favorite band!  When they blow I want to say I knew of them before they were cool.