decent dec. deuce

yeah!
that's what's up.

i got wood, b!tches.

cords and cords and cords.

hot heated hottness.

we GOT them jauns up in the woodsly goodness.

warmth.

hell,

it isn't just warmth, kids.

there's sweat, too.

and tired arms.

and a sore back.

jeez, i really am old.

seems like i mostly spent these days off lifting heavy sh!t;

i moved a few thousand rounds of ammunition around a few times.

from our very good buddy elsah's house,

to the car,

to our house,

and then into the armory.

uh-huh, that's correct;

we have an armory.

have you even been paying any attention at all?

we call our crucial casa the

Folk Life & Liberty FORTRESS.

c'mon.

and it has an arsenal of heavy-leaded hole-punchers packed away inside.

that's even more awesome.

like a real-deal knighted warrior poet an' that,

i've got the hot-handed heaters to hold onto.

ka-splosions of dopeness, my duders.

a whole mother-flippin' roomful, even.

***********

i got a quick jump-up on the XI-mas jump off.

that means i got some stuffs.

stocking stuffs, even.

stuffering stuffers.

what?

be easy.

i like shopping.

a lot.

and i like XI-mas.

why?

because it's a socially acceptable time of excess.

and i excel at excess.

and,

what better way to express gratitude,

than with generosity?

there's no better, you know better.

of course,

tatblasting isn't exactly lucrative in winter in the mountains.

it's kind of remote, y'heard?

still,

i give what i have,

and get the big rewards later on.

i'm sayin',

super-hottness memories abound.

that's word.

spirits and memories of the woodsly goodness.

i'm far from anywhere,

but i'm right where i'm s'posed to be;

winter wonderland?

not really.

great northern barbarian barbican?

more likely.

there's a plan.

it's a secret.

and somewhere in those universal schematics,

there's a wrench.

that's me;

never quiet, never soft.....