Caustic Cannibal & the Woeful Women of Planet's Past

The Dark Pig and I talked about our little blog spots this past weekend, no we weren’t proudly projecting our sick scrotum spots on screen like the Puppetry of the Penis people or anything like that, we were waxing poetic about this peculiar place, so I figured I’d stop by and see if my space had been dismantled.

It turns out that it stands proud like a morning erection so I figured I’d raise a flag on it and see if the wind still blows around here.

A tumbleweed here and a tumbleweed there perhaps, but at very least indulge me for a moment and pull up a chair while I work one out in your face.

You thought my last year was a wild one? This one, though certainly a little more low key and devoid of double divorce (figuratively, not literally), is looking to at very least be on par for life indulgent events, enthralling acts of eroticism, neurotic displays of peacock precision and the weary eye of the wandering cannibal forever seeking his next meal. UC, a gynecological gypsy? No, still a skirt chasing suburban sycophant though who likes nothing more than a margarita morning, soft skin at my side and a forum from which to cast my dispersions, dictatorial direction and doodles. I’ve been a busy boy to be sure. New loves, new loathes, new grudges, new clothes. Still haunted by a past that for some reason is faster than my future, though certainly not to the extent that it once was, but once in awhile the specter of the previous makes a u-turn and winds up lost on the crescent of the present. No choice but to give it directions at this point, maybe offer it one of mom’s cookies for the road.

I’ve done some good and I’ve done some bad, but I guess “I did it, myyyyy wheyyyy”.
Greedy, overwrought, overbearing, orgasm addict? A calloused cannibal with an emotional handbag stuffed and sewn with the sins of the salty sword? Why do the woeful women of the past always try to make claim to a new future with such a creature?