In everyday terms, it’s called “stupidity”, “absentmindedness” or “careless”.
For all the Readers who emailed me to ask if I was okay, following the weekend’s late / non-existent posts, let me reassure you that I’m fine, just an idiot.
You see, the post that appeared on Sunday was actually supposed to appear on Saturday, only Idiot Kim scheduled the wrong date for it — hence the radio silence on Saturday — and yesterday’s post about… well, never mind, it’s too late now and will appear next Sunday.
And today’s New Roundup wasn’t completed, either — it sat completed, but Idiot Kim Pt. II hadn’t hit the “Update” button. Please go back and see the completed version, which has a bikini pic.
This time, it’s not Hosting Matters’ fault, but mine all mine, I tell ya.
Personally, I blame the Democrats.
Normal blogging service will resume after a gallon of coffee.
Just thought I’d point out that today is New Wife’s second (!) wedding anniversary with Yours Truly. All commentary about the burden she has to bear and her saintlike patience will be passed on. (She doesn’t visit this place more than once or so a week, because she’s not interested in guns or politics.)
I am a lucky man.
Yeah, they’re a pestilence too:
It’s open season year-round on feral pigs, whose population in Texas has grown to nearly 3 million. Hunters are not required to retrieve carcasses, although there’s an incentive to do so: “wild boar” sells for up to 60 cents a pound.
If anyone’s organizing one of these hunts in the near future, let me know. I have a new rifle that needs blooding.
Gotta tell you all that the past couple of weeks have drained my blogging batteries. It looks like life now revolves around Chinkvirus-inspired government tyranny (e.g. calls to “cancel” Thanksgiving WTF), what the Left has in store for us when that cocksucker Biden comes to power (as it seems he must — criminal fraud wins again), and the usual celebrity-inspired bullshit.
Fuck that. All of it.
And the mood amongst my Readers seems to be just as gloomy, judging from the tone in Comments recently.
So I’m taking a break from it all, and will spend my time between now and Monday at the range, cleaning my guns, watching Ronnie O’Sullivan playing snooker, and reading something (don’t know what, too enervated to bother).
There will be some posts, but nothing of consequence. I don’t even feel like posting pics of guns — and when did I ever say that?
Spend Thanksgiving with your families, and screw all those assholes who are preaching doom and gloom if you do. Some things are more important than life, and frankly, if I can’t spend time with my family and friends, there’s no point to any of it. (I have THREE Thanksgiving dinners on the schedule: the regular one with the kids minus #2 Son on Thursday, Friday Night Leftovers with Adopted Daughter at her dad’s new house, and Delayed Thanksgiving on Saturday with Doc Russia (who’s working at the VA in Thanksgiving Day).
Oh, and the Son&Heir is taking me to the DACA gun show at Market Hall, also on Saturday, because he wants to buy me a gun. So there’s that.
Come Monday, we can start afresh. I hope.
Had my semi-annual checkup last Friday, and as usual, the Sawbones told me to go away and stop wasting his time.
Yes, for those who are interested: I am in excellent health apart from the standard age-related issues, and plan on staying around to torment my children, snarl at the government and piss off the Usual Suspects (Commies, vegans, gun confiscators [some overlap] ).
Of course I gained weight during the Dreaded Lockdown — who didn’t? — but I have a plan in place to reduce my tonnage considerably, starting only next Monday because starting it during Thanksgiving would be an exercise in complete and abject failure, as any fule kno.
I think I’ll go to the range in a couple hours. For a couple hours.
However, last night I was struck by a profound thought:
So from now on, I’m going to act like I’m 40 even if it kills me.
Watch out, world: I’m coming to get you.