It's cryin' time again!

I wept bitter tears as I watched the thermometer plummeted downward from a toasty 95 to a miserable 65. Once again we are plunging into the horrible, cold, wet abyss that is winter. Will I bemoan this condition until the ides of March? You know I will. Delano gets a big, fat "F" for weather this month.

The Seahawks got beat again, casting a darker shadow on the onset of winter. At least my Okies are back on the winning track. It is hard to believe the unusual twists and turns that college football has taken this year. If I were a betting man, I would be living in a cardboard box. All the preseason top ten picks have fallen. The only good part is that the arrogant sports "experts" have had to eat road apples. It is loads of fun watching them blame a thousand different factors on these events when they don't really have a clue.

Recently received e-mails have confirmed my belief that the only good Muslim is a dead Muslim. If one of those bastards has been born here, educated here and has a good job here, how in the hell are we supposed to stop him? Our gun shops have some pretty good solutions to this problem. Maybe we should all order some firearms before the idiot politicians make it illegal to defend ourselves. We might want to polish off a few illegal aliens while we're at it. Of course, with our limp-wristed, dumb ass delegates, especially the ones here in Californicate, we don't stand much of a chance. Feinstein and Boxer, the worst senatorial pair since Schummer and Clinton, seem to be doing their level best to aid the enemies of this country. Very seldom do I hear of a good decision coming from either of these two utterly worthless politicos. Our judiciary seems to have abandoned us in favor of unconstitutional stupidity. The taxpayers are forced to support the invaders of our country. I am glad that I will croak soon. I don't want to witness the coming debacle.

See what lousy weather does to me? I sends me into a grand funk. I've got to change the subject quick, before I go jump onto the freeway.

At least my literary endeavors are gaining readership. I get a few disparaging remarks, but for the most part, reviews are good. I now have close to forty stories and poems (yes, poems) published on literotica. Writing seems to have a soothing effect on me. The strange thing is, when I start to write a story, I seldom know where it is going. After the initial nudge, it seems to take on a life of its own. I find myself wanting to write something just to see how it turns out. I also find that the more I write, the less porn I read. Maybe I'm just drifting away into old age with no idea about where I am or where I'm going. Probably, I'm weirder than I think.

Well, it's twelve thirty. Time for me to listen to Trish Trang and Koda Kumi. Hiding in music is an obsession. It is so pleasant to just shut off my mind and let some sweet little songstress take me away.

And so it goes.