Interesting. You actually catalogue and inventory episodes of old tv shows you've watched.
Hold on! -- I had to check on what "sub" I was on because the fascist moderators might lobby the owner to ban me if I displease them to much -- anyway, what's your grift, dude?
Are you just some affable knob job like Old Joe the Canuck who posts inane bullshit just hoping to have responses from someone, anyone because life has become so interminably lonely, or are you perhaps some Flametown pedigreed persona with a history of textual wit and flame? I don't know.
I analyze things, you see. Read what people write and try to discover a thing or two from the spaces between the letters they type.
Anyway, I forgot what point I was thinking of making since I wandered in to the kitchen to grab a beer, and then decided to go up into the front room to warm up the tv, then went down to the garage to call the fucking cat in -- she's a calico, you see, with lots of white and we got coyotes and eagles and foxes and Chinese Restaurant Owners that will eat your cat if you don't watch over them -- then I wandered back in here and forgot what I was posting about.
See?
What's my grift? I'll assume it means what's my story.
Well, you seem like a friendly person and member who cares deeply about his fellow members' happiness and well-being so I'll share.
I'm a product of an affair my mother had with Pablo Escobar in the 70's in Medellin, Colombia. After my mother gave birth to me Pablo took one look at me and knew in his heart that he helped create a new life who was destined for greatness. In order for the three of us to live a happy and productive life Pablo had his current wife at the time (Anabella Yolanda Paola Hoochi) killed.
At the ripe old age of 6 Pablo (dad) taught me how to dismember an entire human body using only a plastic butter knife and sandpaper. He emphasized how important it was to use only 40 grit. We were in luck because his dead ex wife's corpse could be used for practice. No need to seek out a disloyal mule and take him out for skimming off the top from dad. I accidently broke the butter knife in an attempt cut the arm off at the elbow and he whipped me mercilessly with an old bamboo fishing pole he had handy. My back bled a little but luckily the plastic tarp on the floor was there to keep the blood off of his $500 a yard Persian rug.
When I was around 12yo my mother lost her marbles and was placed in a psychiatric facility leaving only me and dad with the entire three floor mansion with 12 bathrooms and a huge man cave which I took an immediate interest in, to ourselves. Even at such a young age the allure of porn, Yahtzee, Monopoly, liquor and cocaine was simply too much to resist. Dad would never play Monopoly with me because we weren't using real money and he felt there was no point in playing. But Yahtzee was a completely different story. He loved that game so much that he even had his own custom dice made out of diamonds!
The years rolled on. At 18yo I met this beautiful woman at a local bar with tits so big they could be used as heavy bags at the local boxing club. I'm as serious as a heart attack Reggie. I couldn't even fully wrap my arms around her when we danced because her bosom prevented me from getting in close enough. Little did I know that this sexy woman had a secret agenda. With her seemingly divine powers of seduction she took me into the back room where a silk heart-shaped bed lay. The next thing I knew I woke up in a field of coca plants and my wallet was gone. Alas, one more shot at true love that just wasn't meant to be.
With tears in my eyes I went home and directly into the man cave to interact with my true friend who has always been there for me. My pal cocaine. I did 14 lines, sat down and pondered about the way I was living my life and what kind of future lay ahead for me if I stay on this track I'm on. At this point dad came down the stairs shaking the Yahtzee box clearly eager to play a few games. I told him that I didn't feel like it and he asked why. I told him about my experience with that beautiful woman and he scolded me for being so careless. After a long talk he told me that he may have the solution to my problems. He decided to bring me into the family business, a job I truly coveted but never had the opportunity until now. I instantly cheered up and we played Yahtzee all night in celebration.
My start in the family business wasn't a glamorous one. It was my job to brew the coffee, sweep the floors and make runs to the local hardware store for plastic bags and duct tape. After two years of that the old man promoted me to weighing and packaging product and shipping it out. After what seemed like an eternity, he made me an enforcer. It was heaven on earth! I got paid to take out skimming mules and anyone who beat dad at Yahtzee. As the years passed on my father was shot and killed. Because I was his son I inherited the business much to the chagrin of some of the workers who had been there much longer than I. Simply talking to these men and offering them a pay raise, they still resented me, so after much thought about what dad would do I made a decision.
Before the complaining workers broke for lunch I poisoned their cerveza with an odorless and tasteless hybrid of Rohypnol and laundry detergent. Each of their bodies were discovered a week later hanging upside down with their noses, lips and genitals removed, from a local bridge by the hardware store where I bought the plastic and duct tape. Seeing this horrible display the loyal workers decided to work for me for free out of the immense respect and awe of my leadership skills. Many years later I retired and here I am now typing this story for you in my man cave surrounded by drugs, games and that beautiful woman from the bar who robbed me and is now my wife, wearing the diamond ring from dad's ex wife that he killed. Life is sweet my friends. Just sweet.