I love milestones. I’m sure there was something I meant to talk about. Probably the weather? Probably that there’s some dumbfuck this very moment saying, “How ‘bout that global warming” and we’re not supposed to scream “You absolute shitstain, this is fucking global warming. You’re fucking living it. Jesus Christ. When the fucking ice caps melt, the polar…” We could scream it I guess. But facts don’t matter when whatever chucklefuck they watch on fox news made the “How ‘bout that global warming” joke last night and their neighbor said it too and so did everyone they know on facebook which is how you get everyone saying “I don’t know anyone who…” because they don’t understand the fucking algorithm is fucking designed to confirm their dipshittery, whatever their dipshittery.
Don’t start thinking you’re any better. It works on the left too. Ask anyone under the age of 25 if the holocaust really happened. You go on any social media site and they’ll tell you to not engage with rage bait. Engagement is how disinformation spreads. You dunk on the bad post, now every who follows you sees the bad post. But it spreads when you’re not looking too.
Let’s try something new. I’ll put the bulk of the post up here. I’ll lock the shittalking to paid subscribers. Cool? Awesome.
What were we going to talk about. I made a milestone. Ten thousand subscribers. Howdy. Holy shit. I really didn’t expect this little newsletter to grow like it did. Thank you. Truly.
I’m still in a cabin. Alright let’s quit the bullshit. This is a shed. It’s a fucking garden shed that someone turned into a cabin. I’m honestly impressed. I’ve looked at the sheds outside home depot and thought, yeah that could work. And it can. But maybe add some goddamn insulation. Maybe a door that fits so I don’t have to stuff towels in the gaps to keep the wind from whistling through it. Yesterday, the cabin-shed never made it above 52 degrees. I live in long johns now. This morning it was warm enough that I caught myself walking around in long johns and a bathrobe. Sexy shit.
The temp didn’t go above freezing for several days. A few days, it hovered in the single digits. I didn’t walk Woody those days. I let him out and he’d do a couple zoomies because he thinks he’s a husky and then bolt back inside because he’s also a pitbull.
I didn’t miss walking him. We’ve stopped walking to town anyway. The walk to town is a zig zag through a little neighborhood where every yard has a dog or three and none of them are fucking happy to see a dog walking by. I don’t blame them. Woody walks down the middle of the street like he’s chanting whatever the dog version is of “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..”
I know it’s how it is out here. We thought we were real animal lovers because our dog had a heat lamp in his house and we’d let him in the garage when a tornado came through. I haven’t seen many heat lamps. Didn’t hear as many dogs barking through the night when it was well below zero. But I heard enough. I’d say it’s fucking torture to listen to but I’m not the one freezing to death.
This is going to be a really fucking fun book. I can tell you that much. Inspiring is what they’ll say.
We take the farm road now, away from town. Still a couple dogs. But they’ve got a barn, or something. Maybe. I don’t fucking know. I can’t steal any dogs. I can’t steal every dog anyway. And it’s everywhere out here. Just how it is. That I fucking hate how it is doesn’t mean shit.
Let’s gossip. It’ll be fun. Here’s a picture of Woody, who sleeps next to a heater. I’ll drop an old post I’ve unlocked underneath him. And the rest will be paywalled. There’s gotta be some benefit to paying for his snacks.
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