Face Of New Orleans

I’d have punched you in the face.  No dear readers, not you.  I’m referring to “fighters” that would implode if they didn’t make an ever so irritating “tssst” or “psshh” or whatever the hell other variant they exclaim when they manage to flail their limbs about.  Listen up guys, making those noises officially buys you a lifetime membership to the moron club.  Your bumper sticker with MC on it is in the mail.  And yes…..this also applies to those of you that make these freakishly irritating noises when you do your benchpress, well, because that’s all you really work out.  That is all children.

Snow is softly falling.  Yes children, it truly is winter.  Recalling those early years of Hendrix.  That wonderful uncertainty of where every life I knew would go, and caring more for them than for mine.  I still hope that all are well and happy with where the journey has taken every one of you.  But alas, the lamp is growing dim, so take grasp of what you hold dear, because, dear children, I’m through for the eve.