Hey There, Village Idiot Checking In.

I am Dan.

Slow to learn, long to struggle. I have nary a desire to continue struggling through one idiotic decision after another. Have you ever imagined what it would look like, trying to parent yourself?

Planning, lack of planning, gross misjudgment and intentional, outright defiance is what lights my twisted path through life.

I’m a comedian, a joker, or rather, I AM ….the “Grasshopper”. As in the Fable of the Ant and the Grasshopper, by Aesop. Strolling through life, not even once planning the future.

I am an extremist. Thank goodness I have not been approached by the Taliban. I’d get all jihadist on ya’lls asses! Can you see me in their customary dress and a suicide vest?

Perhaps my calling… nah!! I’m too pretty to splatter-paint a building or bus with my entrails (I’m really trying to convince myself of that). I still believe I will meet my end, slipping in a shower, while alone. Not a magestic end, to an epic life (trying to believe that as well). Not a fear, a hunch.

Jumping before looking, never sticking my toe in to test the water. So lessons never learned. Carrying the pain and hurts of previous failures doesn’t even serve as a lesson. I may as well have my mind erased. Pain is supposed to teach us… even the simple minded learn not to put their hand on a hot burner. I’ve managed to turn carpe diem into crapped and peed them, my drawers, and well life, bank account, mind.. etcetera.

Perfect illustration of my life would be as follows…

“That fucking brick wall is in my way! I know, I will….RAM. IT. DOWN!!”

Assuming the sprinters take-off position…”Think positive, positive thoughts… you got this! Ok mutherfucker, You got this!!” I tell myself.

As I slap my self about the face i chant to myself, “Mind over matter. Full speed…Take that wall down…GOOOOOO!”

Full speed and almost to the wall, I lead with my head..


Several hours later, I wake up disoriented, dizzy and bloody. Having no idea how I got here, I only know I need to get somewhere. Taking in my environment, surmising my situation (all the while, not even a bit concerned with the fact that I do not even recall my own name), while holding my throbbing head between my palms..

That fucking brick wall is in my way! I know..”

Oh dear God, someone call for a ambulance and a straight jacket.

Over the past four decades, it seems my conscious self, my subconscious self, my moral self, and my physical self have all been involved in some sort of bizarre melee. AGAINST, MYSELF.

And every single one of these pricks are Irish. Stupid, belligerent, stubborn drunks.

And guess who is getting his ass kicked tonight?

And yet, I keep going

20 buck says that Irish prick in the wheelchair hits a wall.

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