Good back-to-back days at the gym Sunday/Monday. Reader(s) of this blog have no doubt heard about the latest Tik Tik trend/controversy in which women record men ogling them at the gym. We admit this gave us pause. After some self-reflection we decided, na. Sorry, girls. We see plenty of women at the gym in sweats and a T-shirt. A lot of women prefer leggings and a T-shirt. Nobody needs to wear shinny Lycra leggings and a sports bra to exercise. No one. Ya'll know what you're doing. So just stop. Because one day you will be middle-aged and frumpy, and men won't notice you. Take it away, Paul Joseph Watson.
Well fuck all, if this isn't just a day full of failure.
We think an editor is ghosting us. Which is fine, we don't need to write for them. We miss colluding with the Soviets, sorry, Russians.
Also today a window company was supposed to replace several window sashes whose seals had popped. Those babies cost $23,000 in 2010 dollars, so you can damn well be sure they're fixing the goddamn problem. The sashes have been on back order since 2021. Supply chain problems, they say. I'll bet. The window company called us three hours after their scheduled arrival and said they're looking in the warehouse and can't find the window sashes. We're not going to get mad. We're just going to turn them over to our faire wife, who does corporate customer service for a living.* They're Georgia. She's Sherman.
As with most days we have this blog and at least two Word docs open. And away we go.
Only two things will survive a nuclear war, cockroaches and...' The IRS has an apocalypse plan, and they will make sure everyone – assuming they are a US citizen who doesn't make use of the normal ways of legally avoiding paying taxes – pays in the end.' Heh. It's nice to have plans. The Supreme Court was supposed to evacuate to North Carolina in case if nuclear war. When the Feds told Justice Warren Berger that his wife couldn't come, he stopped participating in the yearly evacuation exercises. There's a paragraph about this issue in The New American Order. Exit question: after the apocalypse goes down, where you gonna get the paper to file taxes?
In New Jersey culinary news: 'Beloved Jersey Shore eatery The Chicken or the Egg has opened its highly anticipated second location. The Chicken or the Egg unveiled a new spot in Marlton on Monday, Feb. 6.' The CHEGG as it is called is a Long Beach Island staple and we know it well. Ahh...we can see it now, sitting on the exterior porch of our condo, tanned by the sun and eating a crab cake sandwhich in the evening breeze before heading out to Sunset Pier.
We have begun our final readthrough (electronic) of The New American Order. The MS needs it, which is baffling. This will go quick, a chapter a day. Pro-tip: do the final edit in a different font. We like Courrier. No one's really giving us good ideas for plot additions at this point. So aside from tidying up the future history, this is it.
Monday Metal on Tuesday. We're all shocked and appalled by the Grammy's satanic worship, of course. Mission Accomplished, we guess. Now is the time for a little Ronnie James Dio, who right now is giving us the devil horns as he drinks ale in the hall of Vothan the One Eye. Also, when you listen to fools....The Mob RULES!:
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