I'm back. It's been six years since I last posted, and in that time my Google blog has become inaccessible to me, so I've set up an new one, Passive Aggression 2. Nyah, nyah, Google!  
I'm writing now because it looks like I might be into phase x+1 of whatever was going on when I did my last bit of blogging back in 2006. Meaning that some more shit has gone on--hell, six years have gone on, though it seems like a lot more--and so it's time to start up again and start defiling the airwaves with bile, calumny, and self-absorption, enough, I hope, to make my old Anderson HS buddies wonder, WTF? If they even read this, which they should.

I mention my old Anderson pals because I've just come back into internet-mediated contact with a few of them:  Gary, Rocky, Krisha (maybe), Trip (maybe), and Nic. It all started when Nic and I hooked up on Facebook a couple of years ago. Nic, who found whom? I forget. I'm just happy that it happened.

I see Margie K.'s got a Facebook page, too.  Yo, Margie!

And for the record, I swear I walked right past Skeeter Chilton on a concourse at O'Hare airport in February 1970 as I was headed down to San Antonio, Texas for basic training.  Skeeter--or his doppleganger--was dressed in Army greens.  Anyone who can confirm or deny is welcome to.

Yes, I wound up as a fucking drunk at Anderson with a downward-trending GPA and I embarrassed myself and I'm sure a few others at the Senior Banquet (but Ronnie Sharp fell out of his fucking chair, for God's sake, which was almost as bad), and the fact that I'm writing about it now, 43 years later, should tell you that I have some unresolved issues.  Just bear with me; I promise not to burden anyone.  I just want to have fun and write some things, among other things, about a time in my life that I would definitely do over again if I could get the chance.  I didn't realize until I was much older how much I would miss the people I went through my adolescence with.

Well, now I need more beer.  Holy Christ, I'm watching the Miami Marlins, for God's sake.  Is there no mercy in this world?  At least their lady broadcasters are nice looking.  But damn, they're still lady broadcasters doing pro baseball, which means I have to turn off the sound.  Chicks talkin' guy talk just doesn't do it for me.