A.G.E's Joint

“Honey! Do you know where the camping box is?” “Out in the storage shed where you left it last, Dummy.” Yeah, Yeah. I knew that would be the answer. It’s a week until we leave and I want to make sure I don’t have any surprises. There have been too many trips with a hammer missing or the propane bottles were empty. It’s best to treat each trip like a new beginning , a fresh start. Like I had not done this a thousand times between family and scout trips. The storage bins are more or less organized from last time. There’s the gazebo. Need to rig up some better hangers to go on the inside, but it worked great the last time. A few coat hangers are willing to make a sacrifice to the greater good. The new lanterns are tested and they work. The coffee maker needs cleaning. Same with the picnic basket, although everything was clean when it was put back. Still have to work out the new Wapiti car top carrier. Never seen one quite like it, black with white elk silhouettes on the sides. ...

Steaming pavement ahead of me, I gunned the El Dorado down the Turnpike, wind blowing through my hair.  The 417 and Trashcoast Parkway faded into the rear view. No more Mickey for me.   A life long dream to stick it to man had borne fruit. I'd be picking up Mary in Boca and head to Candle Key.  She had most of the supplies for the boat.  Even if we are spotted,  a title search would trace it to a Grand Cayman shell corporation with a completely fictions board of directors. We'll drink and dance with one hand free , leaving the wreckage behind. You see, I had perfected a scam.  Logging on to unsuspecting blog sites hawking Le Parfait .  The latest in super anti aging cream for women with lots of money and more competition.  Only, the site that I sent them to was just a mirror.  A perfect clone of the original where I gathered more information than their Experian account.  And over the last several months I had mined the data f...

Hey, Heidy and Howdy!  It's your favorite randy dandy old time disc man Harry Handy, here to fill up your time in God's waiting room.  And have I got a story for you.  Ol' Harry here took a road trip out west, to beautiful Santa Fe, New Mexico.  I'd heard it was lovely and a great place to relax after dealing with program managers without a clue.  I mean, I know the music exists to sell advertising, but funeral home ads? I just had to go somewhere far, far away. Getting there was quite the ordeal.  I flew out the nest and up to St. Louis, where I had to do the one thing air travelers dread, changing planes. We were a little late getting off and my layover was short, so I knew it was going to be hustle. I asked the gate agent coming off the plane where my next flight was.  It was all the way at the other end of the airport and I had 20 minutes to get there.  It kind of looked like this. On the way over, I had to visit the facilities....