The Insurrectionist...

"Call out the instigators because there's something in the air. We've got to get together because the Revolutions' here."

Thunderclap Newman ~ Something in the Air

I have been trying to reach Mad Max since the Insurrection to no avail. Today I finally contacted him:

"Were you part of the Insurrection Mad Max? I watched a lot of videos of it and I didn't spot you in any of them. I'm not sure though. Why have you been avoiding all my calls & texts? Were you there or not?" 

Earlier in the week I chatted with a mutual associate of ours. I asked if he thought Mad Max went to the Insurrection, his answer was right to the point, "I think he is all talk and when it comes right down to it he doesn't have the balls. All talk, no action, that is our Mad Max." 

It is finally time to hear it straight from the horses' ass.

"Goddamn right I was there with the rest of the Patriot's," he answers emphatically, "Another thing asshole; stop referring to it as an Insurrection. It was a rally of the people formed to combat the fraud & tyranny our government is pushing upon us. The rally at the capitol is just the beginning."

"Did you actually go in the capitol?"

"No," adding sternly, "I marched from the rally to the capitol with the rest of the Patriot's, but me and the guys I were with stayed behind the barriers. We did nothing wrong, so the feds can kiss my ass."

"Did you take any pictures or videos?" - All talk no action. Show me some actual proof.

"I can't send or post anything because the feds are monitoring social media, trust me I was there. I wouldn't have missed the most historical moment in our countries history for anything."

The time Mad Max has been talking about for years is finally here; according to him. 

"You watch boy, the Revolution is upon us."

I'd heard enough Revolution talk for one day, I ask if he is excited about the Chiefs being in the Super Bowl. 

"See boy, this is what I don't get about your sorry ass. I'm telling you the country is at its most pivotal point since inception & you want to know what I think about a fucking football game. Wake the fuck up!"

"Jesus, give the Insurrection a break for a minute and tell me if you think the Chiefs are going to repeat as champions. You are going to blow a gasket if you don't relax."

"Relax," adding in a mocking tone, "Relaxing is for sheep like you. Do you remember what I told you a while back?"

"What's that Mad Max?"

"Your fat worthless ass will be the first to capitulate. The freedom fighters you witnessed at the rally are the one's people should be emulating. They will rise up against a tyrannical government and thrive. You & the majority of the masses will always be subservient."

After listening to him rant for a few more minutes, I ask another question.

"What did you wear to the Insurrection?"

"What do you mean? What kind of question is that? I wore clothes you fucking moron."

"I mean specifically. What were you wearing?"

"Why?"

"I heard there was a guy spotted wearing a Madison Bulldogs' hat & his old letter jacket. I thought it might have been you."

"You think all this is funny. Just wait asshole. You'll see soon enough."

try to get a straight answer...

The other day I called my friend Roy to gauge how much money he was going to bet on Kansas City covering the Super Bowl:

"More than you got son. It will be enough to buy the wife something nice with plenty leftover for a trip or two."

"Come on man, give me an actual dollar. You're probably talking ten grand or higher. I'm curious Roy. Tell me the actual amount."

"Like I said son, more money than you got."

He's weird like that. Instead of telling me the actual amount of his bet it's always the same answers... "More than you got boy; enough to buy my wife something nice; enough to make your asshole pucker; enough to court a couple of party girls for the week."

It's my belief he answers this way to shield the actual amount of money he loses. 

"Come on Roy. Give a straight answer for once."

"Let's put it this way boy. It's way more than you got in your bank account. I can guarantee you that much for sure."

He wasn't going to give up the actual amount. So we moved on to what happens if they don't cover.

"Not going to happen asshole. Andy, Patrick & the rest of the gang are going to beat the hell out of Tampa Bay. It won't even be close motherfucker," the confidence in his voice not wavering a bit.

"I admire your enthusiasm Roy. I got to know though. What happens if they don't cover?"

"Then I am out the money and my wife will throw me into the street," seriousness in his voice, "Stop fucking asking. KC is going to destroy Tampa Bay & the wad is going to get several inches thicker. That is what is going to happen!"

My plan is to watch the championship at my associate Fred's place. 

"Fred, we can start the dynasty talk after they win," exclaiming to him in no uncertain terms, "That will be two in a row with a bright future ahead. What do you think about that?"

"We'll see. They got to win this one before we start talking dynasty."

"They will," is my forceful response.

Whenever Fred and I watch the games; undoubtedly, we will see an advertisement for a food delivery application (Grubhub, Postmates, DoorDash). It's painful seeing how successful the process has become knowing full well I was at the forefront of it...I missed out as usual.

"Goddamn Fred, did you see how much the initial public offering of DoorDash is. It's valued at over sixty fucking billion. That's billion with a fucking b!" 

If you've followed the blog for a substantial amount of time you are familiar with my foray into the restaurants of Chinatown. Those restaurants are worth millions upon millions nowadays. I was there before anyone; with connections to boot...still I failed...it's a hard pill to swallow nowadays.

"Think about all those fucking restaurants I had under my thumb Fred. I was in Chinatown before anyone else. It was ours for the taking and it got away. Think about all the money & opportunities this family lost because I was weak. It's the biggest miss in family history."

Fred remembers the time I am referencing. I ask him if he has any regrets about it; knowing full well how profitable the process has become. 

"You need to let it go. It's over now. You missed," is his terse response to my question.

I ask again in hopes of getting an answer.

"Get a life," is his next terse response.

No Tyreek! No Super Bowl!

I realize an actual parade with real life people standing next to each other is out of the question. Chalk it up as another casualty of the cancel culture. Although, I am now informed, a virtual parade is the way to go...the plan is to host one on FaceBook sometime after their victory. I'll get back to you with more details.

"No Tyreek! No Super Bowl!" 

I watched the game at my associate Fred's house.

"Tyreek also happens to be my idol nowadays. What do you think about that Fred?"

"I wish you would stop saying that," he finds my favorite chant about my favorite player annoying.

"It's the truth," is my answer every time he complains.

"I don't care, it's obnoxious. Find a new chant."

"I can't just change my favorite chant at the end of the season. They got one more game to win. I'll find a new chant next year. For now the chant stays."

"Get a life," is his response.

I called Roy on the ride home from Fred's place.

"Chiefs motherfucker!" 

The unbridled enthusiasm in his voice tells me he hit it big on the game.

"How much boy? What did you have going on it?"

"The entire wad son," his enthusiasm growing evermore.

"Are you going to get down on them again in the Super Bowl?" 

I already knew his answer, but I ask nonetheless.

"You bet your blue boots I am. I'm going to ride them all the way home. I told the wife last night when they cover we are going to buy her something nice. It brought a big smile to her face," I often wonder if his wife is aware of the extent of his habit.

"So how much are you going to get down on them for the Super Bowl?"

"The whole load motherfucker. I'm going to get it all back plus some. Goddamn boy they looked good yesterday," his enthusiasm not wavering a bit, "They're going to beat the hell out of Tampa Bay. Do you want to know something else boy?"

"What?"

"Your pep talk the other day gave me the confidence to slap it all down on Andy & the boys. They kicked ass like you said they would. Boy did I need it asshole! I truly believe my wife would have thrown me out of the house if I would have lost the bet. Speaking of that, she's yelling at me right now. I got to talk to you later boy."

"Before you go Roy I got one thing to say."

"What?"

"Chiefs motherfucker!"

He reciprocates.

  

Cover the spread already...

I called my friend Roy in Kansas to discuss the game Sunday:

"The only thing different is they're not covering the spread. That's eight games in a fucking row I've lost betting on them."

"At least they won and have clinched a third straight AFC title game at home. You got to love that Roy."

"That doesn't do me any good asshole. If they don't cover my bookie takes my money and I am left with shit. The winning part is irrelevant to me."

When I called Roy to gauge his excitement about another Chief's title run I should have known better because he is a gambling man. KC hasn't covered a thing in eight weeks no matter what their record states.

"Don't worry Roy," in an attempt to calm his nerves, "They're going to beat the hell out of Buffalo. Get down on them again. Besides, they are due to cover."

"Due to cover," he says in a mocking tone, "I've been saying the exact same thing for eight weeks & all I'm getting from it is a shrinking bankroll. You really are a fucking moron if you think the Chiefs are going to cover against Buffalo."

"Are you going to take Buffalo instead?"

"No," with desperation in his tone, "I am going to take Kansas City again."

"Why would you take them when you are getting killed by them?"

"Because I am fucking stupid."

Chief's football in all its glory is too upsetting for Roy to discuss any further. We change the subject to something less stressful.

"Is your idol going to find a way to keep his job?" A belligerent snicker accompanies his question.

"I've told you this a hundred times Roy. He's not my idol. Tyreek Hill is my idol. Please stop calling him my idol."

"Whatever Trump lover," adding with a snicker, "If he's not your idol than why do you ride around with a Trump bumper sticker on your car."

"I don't have a Trump bumper sticker on my car jerk off."

"That's not what I heard," is his reply with another snicker.

"Whatever dude. Why don't you tell me something interesting? You use to be a fucking Legend," Roy's nickname back in the day was Legend. No one has referred to him as such in over twenty years. No one, that is, accept me.

The conversation shifts back to the betting line on the Chiefs.

"Look brother, I have been getting my ass whipped & my confidence isn't what it use to be. I will lay something down on the Chiefs this Sunday because I don't know any better. They need to fucking win or my bankroll will be gone."

Listening to Roy whine is annoying. He needed a pep talk in the worst way.

"Stop whining Legend. Get yourself together," he is a shell of the man he use to be...it's hard for me to except at times, "I want you to do me a favor & shift your thoughts from now to twenty years ago. Think about that guy back then & how he could dissect a spread in his sleep. All you did was pick winners. Think about all the confidence you had in yourself. Now keep that state of mind and go all in with Kansas City. You will get your money back & then some when they win the Super Bowl."

"I did pick a lot of winners back then," a hint of confidence finally returning to his voice, "I'm going to call my bookie and tell him to let it all ride on the Chief's this Sunday. Andy & Patrick won't let me down. Besides they're due to cover."

"There's the fucking Legend. He's back!"

"I hope your right boy. If not my wife is going to throw me into the streets."

my girl...

There seems to be some confusion on who fancies who at the LaSolana pool:

"I saw your girl with her new guy today. They were riding bikes along Mountain View. You should see this bozo she is with now. She dumped you for a total tool."

Gino's confusion is innocent enough. It's humorous to be honest with you.

"Gino, for goodness sake. She is not my girl. You are the one who has eyes for her. Why do you keep saying she's my girl?"

A certain lady in a string bikini turns heads at the pool. I'll say 'hi' to her when she is there. That is the extent of our relationship. However, I made a suggestive remark one day when both of us were gawking at her. He won't let me forget it.

"That's what you told me. Those were you're exact words. You said, 'that's my girl' and motioned in her direction."

I play along for the hell of it.

"Okay Gino, you got me. She is my girl, not a full time thing though. If she wants to strut her stuff with another fella. Who am I to say no? I'm not the jealous type."

"Really," he says with a surprising gaze, "You don't mind that she is stepping out on you with another guy. I would be mad as hell."

I extend the farce more.

"You got me again Gino, I'm supposed to meet her at the hotel around the corner at nine. She says she is going to make it up to me."

"What the hell are you going to do at a hotel?"

"We're not going to play tiddly winks; that much is for sure."

A wide smile comes to his tan face after my proclamation; even at eighty eight it's still the first thing on a man's mind.

"You are a lucky guy. I wish I could take your place."

"If it is fiction you can say whatever you want," is my continuing thought.

"Gino, I'm just joking about meeting her at the hotel. She's actually coming over to my place tonight and I'm fixing her dinner. You know what desert is going to be," directing a wink and nod in his direction.

"Really," he says with a tone of jealousy.

"No, not really. It's a pleasant thought though."

old people talk at the pool...

The other day I was floating in the pool at LaSolana when Frank, who is eighty eight years old, says to me, "I saw your girlfriend out here today with another guy. I thought you said she was your girl. It sure doesn't look like it."

It's the opposite going on here, Frank has the hots for this gal & she is uninterested, thus causing him to turn his failure on me. I play along for the hell of it.

"Frank, she was never my girl. You were the one who had the hots for her. Don't get me wrong, she's an attractive lady. There was never anything there though. I could tell it when are eyes first gazed at one another. I knew she would never be my girl," the truth of the matter is she couldn't pick me out of a line up. 

"Don't give me that," he says insistently, "She dumped you for one of these old guys. How does that make you feel?"

"Not too bad since she was never my girl to begin with. Why don't you ask her out if you are so interested. She might tell her new guy to take a hike & start hanging out with you."

"Do you think so?"

"Probably not good buddy," is all I can muster.

There is a distinguished gentlemen who frequents the pool most afternoons. His name is Carmine & he tilts way to the right. The other day we had a brief conversation about Hunter Biden's lap top while floating around in the shallow end.

"This is complete bullshit on what Twitter is doing. Things like this is how communism gets its roots."

I had no idea what he was referring to...he explains it to me.

"They're suppressing the Hunter Biden/Russia story. They don't want the masses to see how crooked the Biden's really are," adding to his rant, "It turns out the moron had a bunch of top secret stuff on his lap top implicating all the shady deals he did while daddy was vice president. Some kind of genius this guy is. He takes the computer to get fixed and forgets where it is. He was probably coked out of his mind. The computer ends up in the hands of the FBI & they are not pushing the issue either. It's a sham!"

"So what does this got to do with Twitter?"

"They disconnect anyone who posts about it."

I wasn't sure if he had the story exactly right. The truth is I could care less. I didn't want to tell him that because I knew it would be a no win situation for me. Turns out, I was already in a no win situation.

"Bummer, so much for that 'October surprise," fully expecting him to reply with irritation.

"Bummer," he says in a mocking tone, "I'm telling you the whole shit house is on fire & that's all you have to say."

I abandon the conversation and wade over to the other side of the pool where Miss Kitty is at.

"It will be nice when the election is over Miss Kitty. I still don't know what people around here will talk about."

"There's always football Rob," is her immediate answer.

The latest happenings at the LaSolana pool...

I haven't officially measured the distance from my front door to the entrance of the LaSolana pool area. I'm guessing it can't be more than fifty paces. Maybe one of these days I will measure it for real & settle my own curiosity:

"Don't tell me the 'Rona has made it to the pool Jack. Why in the world is the entire pool roped off with yellow tape?"

Entering the pool area I notice yellow tape surrounding the entire pool. The 'Rona is the first thing that comes to mind.

"It's not the 'Rona Rob," he adds while lounging in a green lawn chair in the smoking area, "One of these old guys took a shit in the pool and they had to call in the cleaner to come and shock it. He said it would take two days for the chemicals to take affect. That's why the yellow tape is there."

"That is disgusting," is my initial words, adding, "I will have the image in my head every time I get in the pool from now on out. Who was it?"

"Nobody knows for sure. It could have been a number of these old guys. I don't think a lady would do that," adding with a shrug, "You got to remember something around here. It's all old people for the most part, so shit happens...literally."

I'm happy to report the problem is resolved and all is back to normal.

The other day I was in the pool floating in circles when I decided to ask a friend to reveal her secret.

"How did you get so good at picking football games Miss Kitty?"

"I just have a knack for it Rob," is her modest answer as a flotation device guides her gently around the pool.

Miss Kitty, a distinguished lady in her own right, is currently the win leader in the football pool at LaSolana.

"How do you think you'll do this week?"

"Hopefully I can win it again Rob," she won the last pot and has finished runner up twice. The season is only five weeks old.

"How come you're so bad at picking games Rob? I would think a guy like you would be better at it. You seem to know a lot about football," the truth is the more you know about football, the worse you are at picking games. I've seen it a million times. I tell her such.

"It's hard to believe someone can be as bad as me Miss Kitty. Unfortunately, I just don't have it. That's why I finish last every week. The best thing to do is let me tell you what I like & take the opposite. What's your secret Miss Kitty? How come you are so proficient at it?"

"I just concentrate for a few seconds on each pick and then I go with the one that sticks. Nothing more than that Rob. Mix in a lot of luck as well."

I know it's luck; she knows it's luck; everyone at the pool knows it's luck...the thing is if you do it consistently is it really luck? I had to make sure she wasn't trying to hustle me.

"Don't give me this luck story Miss Kitty. Everyone knows you are connected in ways that I can't even fathom. You probably got a hot line to some guy way up there and when things aren't going well you ring him up & whammo! All the calls start to go your way. It's way past a guy like me."

"I wish Rob," adding with a giggle, "My son will tell me what he thinks every once in a while, but I just go with my gut for the most part."

The two of us float around the pool for a bit more and then I ask, "Where is Carmine?"

"I haven't seen him in a few days. Do you think the zombies finally got him?"

Carmine is a patron of the pool who tilts ultra right. He's convinced the country will be staring down a President Pelosi come inauguration time.

"That's crazy," I add with a laugh, "Last week he told me Antifa was on his trail."

"Never a dull moment at LaSolana with all these old guys around Rob," she adds with a smile.

"You got that right," is my immediate response.