the end

today is the day i dreamed of and looked forward to for many, many years. today is the day that i planned on attaining or reaching nirvana.

it didn't happen. if i had a nickel for every time that little son of bitch buddha let me down, i could probably buy a pair of cheap sneakers. but i don't have a pocketful of nickels and nirvana is right up there with self-actualization as far as possibilities and probabilities go. it's like the proverbial carrot at the end of the stick. i need a shorter stick and a longer carrot.

yes, today is the day i am officially RETIRED! if that isn't nice, what is?

i dreamed of this day in my youth because i thought it would be party time. not having to get up in the morning and drag myself to the cracker factory meant i could party like it was 1999 every goddamned night. but a funny thing happened on my way to the forum, i got old and partying lost it's luster. partying actually lost it's luster years and years ago but so it goes. live and learn. i don't play golf, i don't play bridge, i don't fish.... what in the hell am i supposed to do? note to self; you're retired, you don't have to do anything! i've been practicing doing nothing for years so i'm very well prepared for retirement.

i'll mark the first day of my retirement by declaring my woeful countenance has been returned to the bottom right drawer of the old oak principal's desk where i waste too much time. the pilgrim is free to visit tralfamadore at a moment's notice. montana wildhack, here i come.

the moral to this story? enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. or how about just plain old enjoy the moment.

my swan song to the cracker factory:

i love you sons of bitches

adios summer

we've been in a drought all summer and if the weatherman is correct it's all going to come to an end tomorrow, heavy rain! last night panic set in, i hadn't cleaned the gutters all summer waiting for some cool weather because i didn't want to climb up on the roof in the hot sun. there was a tremendous amount of shit on the roof that i'm sure would have plugged the down pipes resulting in watering backing up the roof and spilling over the gutters. i took 3 plastic grocery bags with me but quickly realized that i'd need at least 5 bags. i was in a quandary since about the hardest part of the job is climbing down from the roof when the ladder is fully extended and very shaky. i decided to fill my 3 bags and toss the rest over the edge. adding to my stress was a certain dog whining and wanting to aid in the fun. she likes to follow me everywhere but she can't climb ladders for sour apples. i'm happy to report the dirty job is done.

in my drinking days the job would have been done long ago. how so you say? way back when i had this crazy sense of justice. if i did some chores, i could go out and get loaded with a clear conscience. i ended up getting a lot of stuff accomplished because being heavily into alcohol, i'd do almost anything to justify my evil ways. the good news was i got a lot of stuff done, the bad news is i usually had a hangover and of course spending time in bars costs a pretty penny.

here's the crazy part of my drinking, i always had a plan B in case things went wrong. it didn't matter how fucked up things got in my life i always had plan B to fall back on. my plan B was to quit drinking. quit drinking and the world would be my oyster. when i quit drinking, losing plan B was a problem. it was my crutch, how the fuck could i get depressed when there was always plan B to straighten things out. when i quit drinking plan B didn't really live up to my expectations. the problems didn't go away and i had no fucking plan B to fall back on. but at least the hangovers were gone and it's funny how much money you end up with in your wallet when alcohol is removed from the equation.

then one day i got a new plan B. fuck it, i could start drinking again. i still have a cupboard full of jack daniels and single malt. so plan B is within reach in case of emergency. so i got that going for me too, which is real nice.

i love you sons of bitches.

2 months

the rip has been my partner in crime for 2 months now and she's exceeded my expectations by a country mile. the first day she drove everyone nuts by pacing the perimeter of the fence in the back yard, she just wouldn't stop. she was like that energizer bunny. since she was a stray and lived on the streets for a while she's hyper alert, nothing gets by her. in 2 months i've been unable to get any good pictures because she just won't sit still unless she's sitting by my side. i tried to take a good picture this morning and this is the best i could get:

best of all, she's a totally excellent security system for the house. we were without a beast for 7 months after ruby ascended to the next level and that was the first time in my life i had been without a beast. i really missed the feeling of security knowing someone had my back. a guy always needs someone or something to have his back. fathers and dogs are the 2 things that never let you down and i lost both but now i have the rip and everything's coming up roses!

each night before crawling into bed i have a little chat with the rip and tell her what an excellent job she's doing. i spare no platitudes and i offer no suggestions on how she could improve her performance. ruby was bigger and much more powerful than the rip but good old rip makes up for it with speed and alertness.

and she caught a rat in the backyard! if that isn't nice, what is?

i love you sons of bitches.

fuck!

son of a bitch, i wrote a truly magnificent and inspiring epistle on the aging process and then i clicked on the wrong x and the goddamned son of a whore got deleted! perhaps it was a sign that the aging process is accelerating at a far greater pace than i had imagined. so it goes.

all the flowery prose and descriptions are down the crapper with the deleted post so here's the song i've selected to be played as i ascend to valhalla. anyone with half a fucking brain probably figured out what song i would select at the onset of this award winning series on the aging process of a man whom a few morons think is the product of white privilege.

now as an added bonus, here's how my main man shane has aged over the years. 30 years hence he is a free man in paris.

yes, i watched the whole concert and in the spirit of a true celtic warrior, shane appeared to be gaining strength as the concert went on.

i love you sons of bitches and i'm truly sorry that you were unable to read the original masterpiece that i mistakenly deleted.

the penultimate song

almost there. for the penultimate song in the aging series gimmick i'll focus on old men and memories. as we age, we tend to forget and there's a whole fucking industry out there only too willing to sell us supplements and brain exercise games designed to help us with our "perceived" memory loss. the only racket better than health supplements is probably religion but they both operate on the same principle, pay now and expect good things down the road. like i said, great racket.

back to memory loss and here's where you better pay attention. as i was sitting in the doctors office getting ready for some cognitive tests i was hit by a thought that everyone should consider when worrying about memory loss.

news flash, you're fucking delusional if you think you had a photographic memory in your youth. fuck me, i've been forgetting shit all my life so why beat myself up if i forget a few things in my old age. and here's the bonus, when you grasp this fact your memory actually improves because your stress level decreases and very few things fuck you up more than stress. so in case you forgot:

YOUR MEMORY WAS NEVER PERFECT, IT'S HEALTHY TO FORGET USELESS SHIT. IT FREES UP SPACE FOR GOOD STUFF.

now here's the song that reflects my current state of mind, old but still kicking.

i love you sons of bitches.

bonus

i have a confession. when i started this epic odyssey to document the aging process, the gimmick was front and center in my old mind. i didn't even know what 5 songs would be highlighted but such is life. to make amends for this transgression, allow me to share the most poignant poem of our generation:

There once was thug named Brown

Who bum-rushed a cop with a frown

Six bullets later

He met his creator

Then his homies burnt the town down

i wanted to share this epic poem on facebook but it might cost me a few friends and i can't afford to lose any more friends since they're dropping like flies these days.

i love you sons of bitches.

good riddance 59

my 59th year on this cursed ball of mud (harry turtledove reference) was undoubtedly my worst. in the space of 6 months i lost my dog, my father and my best friend. of course there were some good things but the scales of happiness were light years away from being balanced. of my losses, only my father is irreplaceable. i now have a new dog who is oozing with potential and i'm prepared to be my own best friend until the stars come into alignment and a new partner in crime emerges. yes, i am cautiously optimistic for the coming year.

i can't decide if falling in love with royal doulton character jugs was a positive or negative development. on the positive side, they're pretty cool to look at and under the right circumstances, they can speak to me. on the negative side, collecting china figurines isn't exactly what every young man dreams of doing. i'll never tire of don quixote, sancho panza or the viking but those other sons of bitches will probably end up in storage sooner or later.

this is a bit of a sappy song but i'm a sucker for rockin' ronnie.

i love you sons of bitches and remember these days are solid gold so you might as well enjoy the moment.

the 5 days of grey..................

some men would bemoan turning 60 while others would celebrate the great accomplishment. i see opportunity. a fabulous opportunity to boost my international readership with a top notch gimmick.

enjoy the moment is pleased as punch to announce the 5 days of music to commemorate the pilgrim turning 60. the previous gimmick involving the character jugs was too long for my easily distracted domestic readership. careful analysis of that gimmick revealed interest and readership peaked on the 6th day. my aging readership is clearly showing signs of cognitive impairment so this time it'll wrap up on day 5.

i plan to commemorate the blessed event with one song about aging each day until the winning song is revealed on day 5. (the days may or may not run consecutively as i, like the domestic readership, am easily distracted.)

i'll get things started with good old dino:

i love you sons of bitches.

i forgot to mention that ripper generously gave me a freshly killed rat for my birthday. for the first time since ruby ascended to the next level, full security has been restored at prilgrimville.

2 for $99

my old eyes are showing their age and as a result, i can't read for sour apples without reading glasses. i saw an ad for glasses priced at 2 pairs for $99 so i walked in and said i want 4 pairs of glasses. surprise, surprise the bill came to over $400. i was told that anti scratch, anti glare etc were essential and of course these were added costs. and of course i said, i want the 2 pairs for $99 deal at which point the owner, a fat old european with several ounces of gold hanging around his hairy old chest, came to set me straight. things got heated as the owner and i had a different ideas of what 2 pairs for $99 really means. can you guess how much i ended up paying for my 4 pairs of glasses? $198.

only an idiot pays for scratch resistant and anti glare lenses. and of course he told me that since he liked me so much he'd toss in these features for free. rather than telling him i knew that almost all lenses come with those features, i thanked him profusely so he could save face with his employees.

around the middle of next week the new specs will be ready, lucky me. our health care system gives free glasses to children and deadbeats. maybe next time i can find some 5 year old to take my prescription into the optician and pretend the glasses are for him/her. i wouldn't trust a deadbeat to pull it off.

i love you sons of bitches.