Nice Guys Finish Last…


I think it’s true that nice guys finish last.

I’m just not sure they care about the race all that much.

At least not the one most of us are running.

(Does that mean they win?)

Hello World! (My Ass…)

Me, my bro, and my funny as can be grandfather.  (This was taken yesterday.  Might as well have anyway.)

The title to this post is the default provided by WordPress when you start a new blog.

It’s preloaded with HELLO WORLD! I added the (My Ass…) part.

This could be fun.  Kinda’ like the old days before my hosting company lost everything I published over the past 9 years.  (Good times.  Good times.)

I didn’t kick anything when I tried to login to my old site and got a message that said something like, “This site doesn’t exist.  Never did.”

I didn’t yell or raise my voice.  I just sat there and reviewed some of the things I’d written…and wondered where they went.  (I thought everything remained “out there” once you post it.  Maybe only the embarrassing pics like the one above, or late night drunken rants are permanent.)

I chalk up my lack of an outburst to the death and dying lessons.  It IS…after all…little more than spilled milk.  Doesn’t amount to a hill of beans really.

So I get to rebuild…and start over…and what the heck?

One of my new hopes with this iteration of Thirty Seconds… is that I will swear less.  Swearing on blogs and in silly meme’s is happening most of the time…and it’s not so effective because I think it’s overdone.

I’m going old school on this and I hope it still has an edge even though when I get upset I’ll use the word “upset,” instead of “pissed off.”  (When I’m really cheesed off I think I’ll say, “Holy Jumpin’ Up and Down!”  Boom! That’ll get your attention.)

Hope to find my audience again…or that you find me.  You really helped a guy through some tough spots…and I miss you.

Bare with me as I reconstruct my site…and work to carve out some time to join the ever growing army of bleeding hearts who think their lives are inspiring enough to warrant a damn story about how enlightened they are.(We are some narcissistic bastards.  Wait.  I meant to say narcissistic son-of-a-guns.)