Category: Life with Pet

My happily ever after

This is not an Anti-Trump Story

… in which Mr John learns his dog is a communist –

I didn’t need a rabid Trump supporter to tell me my dog is an asshole. I figured that out the first time she woke me up at three in the morning to go sniff the yard for ten minutes or the time she vomited between my legs in the middle of the night making me think I crapped the bed.

Mostly I don’t drive anymore. My wife doesn’t trust me to be safe and most of the time she isn’t wrong. Yesterday though, she had a wisdom tooth out, and I got a rare chance to adult. (whee). My appointed task was to drive to KFC, collect food and return home, hopefully without incident.

Siri suggested a sensible route of larger city highway, under an overpass and there I would find the KFC. Easier than falling off a log.

As I pulled up at the light beneath the overpass. I couldn’t help but see a large gathering of Trump supporters. Mostly Boomer folks, waving assorted Trump 2020 flags intermingled with confederate flags, the “thin blue line flag” and an eye-catching gray flag with a black AK-47 on it.

My mind wandered at the long light; What would you call a group of Trump Supporters?

“Pigs” as a puppy. Does this dog look like an asshole?

Grumble of Pugs, Murder of Crows, Unkindness of Ravens, Stench of Skunks, a Knot of Toads – all taken. I was at a loss.

The light soon changed, and my mind shifted back to the task at hand. Four KFC Famous bowls, a Diet Pepsi, and three Dr. Peppers. On the return trip, I noticed a few counter-protesters had gathered a safe distance from the Trumpers, with black hoodies and black gloves, standing silently with raised fists.

As I passed under the overpass, I really hoped I would not end up stopped in front of the Trumpers, but naturally, that is exactly what happened. Busses can be hatefully timed at rush hour. I couldn’t help but study the spectacle. It was like a rotting carcass being devoured by a pack of vultures, revolting yet so interesting.

It’s true, she is an asshole, seen here warming said hole in the sun.

My musing was broken when someone thumped on my window and yelled:

“Your dog is a fucking asshole”

Startled, (on several levels), I muted Nine Inch Nails, turned, cracked the window down and asked the gentleman; “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your dog is a god damn communist asshole.”

Now it might be my condition, or my relative fearlessness, but my mind turned to what in the hell could have so triggered this freak of nature.  I ignored his rants. “How did he know I had a dog?” Antifa! “Think think think.” Socialist! “Is this happening, or did I forget my pills this morning?”


Finally, it hit me. The magnet I took off the old freezer we just tossed out.  ‘My Dog is a Democrat’.

Just as traffic was moving, I looked up at him and said “Yeah, and she’s black too.”

“Fuck You!”

As I drove home, I decided on: A vitriol of Trump Supporters.

Update: Driving past the intersection today, right in the middle of where the story unfurled was a large “NO TRESPASSING” sign “BY ORDER OF SEMINOLE COUNTY SHERIFF”. somehow my dog and I feel safer. 🙂

Devo : 37

“I’m envious of your IQ of 37”

My Brain Broke

To make a long story short, the cumulative effects of my life; Abuse, “The Rough Patch,” Accidents, Traumas, my Penance, and pretty much everything you will read about here has broken me. The story of my decline, how we discovered my disability and treated it, is for another story or two, but here are the basics.

A laundry list

In short, I have :

  • C-PTSD
  • Generalized Anxiety Disorder
  • Metabolic Syndrome
  • Cognitive Dysfunction
  • Depression
  • Previous undiagnosed ADHD
  • Prone to fits of rage (I have a doctor’s note to be a raging asshole)
  • To quote my Psychologist “behavioral abnormalities” (which I “think” is shorthand for “You’re an Asshole.)”
  • and my favorite; “You might be on the spectrum, if not then really close.” (this must be a massive surprise for the Adaptation folks -insert wry grin here.)

Concentrating is very hard and exhausting for me. I pretty much cannot do simple math anymore.

I take drugs for my issues, and I take medications for side effects of these drugs. These can sometimes leave me in various states of mania, stoned, raging, or unable to stay conscious. Some days I can’t get out of my tracks and therefore accomplish nothing.

So if I skip a week (or six) between posts, now you know why.

The good news is that I have over 30 draft posts ready to share with you when I can. The bad news is that it takes days to write a single post and it must be proofread and edited by Kerry before finally posting for you all to see.

House Elf?

If you are a Harry Potter fan, you will instantly know Dobby the House Elf. Here in case, you forgot, or you are a godless heathen that knows not of Harry Potter, this is Dobby.

When It became evident that even simple math was an issue for me and there was no way I could get a steady job doing anything, my wife stepped up to the plate and became not only a Realtor but an Insurance Agent. My life was reduced to housework, naps, and attending to the children. I have become a House Elf.

My wife also blogs about our life so if you want to read her thoughts on all this mess, you can read them here: Life in the Cuckoos Nest.

A Quick One

… in which Mr. John is left speechless

Kerry and I got together shortly before Adaptation started shooting. We shared a comfortable, if not microscopic, flat in Boston. It was perfect.

The phone rings.

Me: “What?” (as I was apt to answer the phone at the time)

Father: “John! John! You will never guess what happened!” My father gushed.

Me: “Hi Dad”

Father: “You won’t believe it!

Me: “Are you OK? (there was a short pause)

Father: “You won’t believe it!”


Me: Oh. Neat! (another pause)

Me: Well, Pop did you get the question right? (an uncomfortably long pause)

Father: Umm . . .

Me: Dad!!!!

Such is my life. I had no idea how to respond to that except say “I love you Pop,” hang up and bust out laughing.

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