Moving On

2016 is in, full, swing. Could a year be in partial swing? Regardless, I am back to work, on my back, as I’ve decided to become a prostitute. No, seriously, my back has been weak since about a week back. So there’s that. The Golden Globes were last Sunday and Ricky Gervais introduced Mel Gibson and didn’t say anything about Mel looking like an old catcher’s mitt, which I thought was nice of Ricky. Crazy year already huh? The Browns hired a new coach, Hue Jackson. Cleveland Plain Dealer columnist Terry Pluto says there is cause for hope. Terry, Terry, Terry, as long as one can inhale and excrete bodily fluids, there is cause for hope. Call me when there is cause for optimism. In fact text me when the Browns reach 500, I’ll take you out for some objectivity, my treat. The Browns are like an infected scrotum, in dire need of help but too painful to touch. Moving on. Donald Trump remains a headline maker but what slays me is how orange he is and how white his eyes are. It’s like he’s some sort of agent orange even though he skipped Nam. How does the tanning light not hit around his eyes? Some things are better left unknown, like Donald Trump. Moving on. I got an iwatch for xmas. It tells me to stand every hour, which is really annoying in the middle of work; I told you about my new line of work right? Seriously, it does track my runs and exercise and I have lost some weight since the holidays, mostly from my wallet but hey, gotta keep the economy moving right…can’t spend it in hell right…