Another sappy post about why I blog

Grog, commenting on my post about that trifle I made for Phil, asked if I had ever met The Vulgar Curmudgeon hisself.

Nope. I ain't never met the guy. But I know he fixes his sister-in-laws car, he's a mechanic who works on massive machinery, he works too many hours for too little pay, and has been working hard his whole life. And has a fancy little sports car he might possibly maybe kinda might get on the road someday.

I know he's honest, except when pulling yer leg. And if you believe it, he's gonna run wif it. If ya hop fast enough, you might catch up.

I know a lot about a lot of folks whose blogs I follow. And I follow them because they are good folk.

There's this absolutely angelic woman in Texas, who will give you her soul before she sees you suffer, claims she is going to be tough next time someone asks her for more than she should give, and then gives it anyway. And cries in silence because she doesn't understand why people can be so cruel.

Know this guy out in California, used to be an Okie, and still picks on 'em, was a rebel in his day, and still seems like the meanest motherfucker out there you don't want to meet. But he takes care of folks he's never met, encourages those who need it, watches out for that lady in Texas (even warns her about guys like me), and if I ever needed REAL help, I'd go to him. Fucker's bull goose crazy!

And they are my family. With my apologies to those who actually believe I'm talking about them, I gotta say:

Family ain't those you share blood with, family is those who would share their blood for you.
And God bless 'em.

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