I Am An A-hole

I am evil. I know I am evil, but I can’t help it. In fact I take a fiendish glee in being evil.
I wasn't always evil; it just came upon me about six years ago. That’s when I moved from the frozen tundra of Rochester, NY, and relocated in Miami, FL.


I remember my last day working at the airport up in Rochester, it was 5 degrees, and colder than a witch’s left bosom. In fact, the last two months I worked there, were the coldest I could remember. I really didn’t want to leave my family, and friends, but, I was forced to travel to new horizons, in order to keep my job of twenty years.


Three days later, from the back of my friend Tom’s boat, which was harbored in the Florida Keys, I discovered my evilness. It was a beautiful evening, about 70 degrees, with a gorgeous sunset off to the west. I was nursing my sixth or seventh cold brew, when I got a call from my step son on my cell phone. He told me that it was a minus 4 degrees, and snowing like a bastard up in Rochester.


That’s when I turned evil. I couldn’t help but to tell him how warm, and beautiful it was in my neck of the woods. Just to hear him tell me to go f#&k off made me feel really good. I realized that I took extreme pleasure, in pissing him off about how nice it was to live in paradise. In fact I took pleasure in pissing off everybody from up north about it.


Sometimes I would just causally mention, how it was 82, and sunny; after they told me they just got 15 inches of snow, other times I would complain that we were going through a cold spell, and that we would hit a low of 55, with only a high temperature of 72, just to hear the responses I would get from them.


There is something about living in paradise that brings out the a-hole in a guy.


If you life up north, and want to bring out your inner a-holeness, I have a guest room, give me a call.


Did I mention that we are going through a cold spell? It is supposed to get down to 60 degrees tonight. I better put on my flannel pj's tonight! Brrrr

I Am An A-hole

I am evil. I know I am evil, but I can’t help it. In fact I take a fiendish glee in being evil.

I wasn't always evil; it just came upon me about six years ago. That’s when I moved from the frozen tundra of Rochester, NY, and relocated in Miami, FL.

I remember my last day working at the airport up in Rochester, it was 5 degrees, and colder than a witch’s left bosom. In fact, the last two months I worked there, were the coldest I could remember. I really didn’t want to leave my family, and friends, but, I was forced to travel to new horizons, in order to keep my job of twenty years.

It was three days later, from the back of my friend Tom’s boat, which was harbored in the Florida Keys, that I discovered my evilness. It was a beautiful evening, about 70 degrees, with a gorgeous sunset off to the west. I was nursing my sixth or seventh cold brew, when I got a call from my step son on my cell phone. He told me that it was a minus 4 degrees, and snowing like a bastard up in Rochester.

That’s when I turned evil. I couldn’t help but to tell him how warm, and beautiful it was in my neck of the woods. Just to hear him tell me to go f#&k off made me feel really good. I realized that I took extreme pleasure, in pissing him off about how nice it was to live in paradise. In fact I took pleasure in pissing off everybody from up north about it.

Sometimes I would just causally mention, how it was 82, and sunny; after they told me they just got 15 inches of snow, other times I would complain that we were going through a cold spell, and that we would hit a low of 55, with only a high temperature of 72, just to hear the responses I would get from them.

There is something about living in paradise that brings out the a-hole in a guy.

If you life up north, and want to bring out your inner a-hole, I have a guest room, give me a call.

Did I mention that we are going through a cold spell? It is supposed to get down to 60 degrees tonight. I better put on my flannel pj's tonight! Brrrr

The New Adventures Of Wilbur the Pig Chapter 5 "A-Huntin' We Will Go"

It was a long slow walk back to the house from the boat launch. We were physically beat, and mentally beaten; and I was in a foul mood. We barely had Wilbur for one day, and now he may be gone forever. Jeff was much more optimistic about Wilbur’s chances, “Don’t worry, he won’t freeze to death, he’ll find some warm place to hunker down for the night.” “Well he better,” I replied, “because it’s supposed to get down to 36 and rain all night.”

I thought we should call a war council after supper, to figure out our strategy, so I sent Jeff out to get us a twelve pack. I always do my best figuring with a cold beer or two, and a shot of bourbon or two. After what I had gone through earlier, there was no question the need for either of the two, and we needed a game plan for tomorrow. There was no way I was going to go out in the cold, and rain tomorrow, and chase that damn pig around. This was starting to get personal. If that pig wasn't frozen solid tomorrow, his ass was mine!

The war council convened after we finished the dishes; it consisted of Rhea, Jeff, and me. There were two things we had going in our favor; we knew the general area where Wilbur was located, and we had Toby. Wilbur could run, but he could not hide. Jeff brought up the point that when he saw Wilbur run from Toby when they were in the brush, Wilbur stayed on the path, and did not run through the undergrowth. This was a key observation on Jeff’s part, because there would only be Jeff, me, and Toby, around in the morning to get the job done.

The general plan was simple, Jeff would take Toby to the far side of the brush along the fence line, and I would stand down the path a ways with Sean’s fishing net. When Toby caught scent of Wilbur, and went after him, the only direction Wilbur could go without running into the creek was towards the parking lot…and me. As he ran past me I would simply lower the net, and bag myself a pig. It was a good plan, and I went to bed confident that we would catch him; if he didn't freeze to death over night.

When we got up the next morning, I was dismayed to see that the weatherman had actually been correct for once; it was indeed colder than a witch’s left tit, and it was raining. After a couple cups of hot coffee we grabbed Sean’s fishing net, and put Toby on the leash; it was pig hunting time.

Down the road we plodded in our boots, and rain gear. I carried Sean’s net like a rifle over my shoulder, and Jeff had Toby pulling him down the street. I am sure we were a sight to see, fortunately there were no neighbors out to watch us go “fishing” without a pole.

When we got to the boat launch we went into the brush along the creek. Jeff showed me the best place along the path to stand, it was very narrow, and Wilbur would have to stay on that path or he would take a tumble down the slope into the creek. I took up my position and waited for Jeff and Toby to walk down to the fence line. Jeff yelled out to me, “Wilbur’s alright, I can hear his little grunts, he’s looking for food.” We couldn't see him, but we could hear him. “That’s good”, I thought, “Everything is going to plan.” Jeff, and Toby got in place and Jeff yelled, “Get ready, I’m unloosing the hounds!” He had got that line from the Jerry Seinfeld commercial that was popular at the time. It made me grin, but I braced myself for the charge. It didn't take more than a couple of seconds before a din of noise arose from the silence,

Aroooo! Aroooo! From an excited Toby, followed by a loud Wreeeee! Wreeeee! from a terrified Wilber. “I see them!” shouted Jeff, “Here they come!” I looked up the path, and sure enough they were coming my way as if they had been shot out of a cannon. Wilbur came running by me, and I put the fishing net down.

Not only did Wilbur look like he had been shot out of a cannon, but he had the mass of a cannon ball, and he tore right through the fishing net! I was left standing there with my mouth agape as Wilbur and Toby tore down the path towards the parking lot. I tried to give chase, but in my heavy boots, and rain gear I stood no chance. Once again Wilbur ran around the parking lot and high weeds until Toby was too tired to chase him any longer, then he disappeared back into the brush.

The fishing net was destroyed along with my pride, and self esteem. Wilbur simply refused to make this easy for us, and I was steamed. We walked back down the street to my house.

Rhea’s older brother Dickie lived across the street from us in the house that Rhea grew up in. He was outside, and he asked us what we were up to. Dickie got a good laugh at our expense as I told him our story. “Here boys” he said as he went into his garage, “this net can handle a twenty pound pike, and I'm sure it can handle your little pig!” He handed me his fishing net, “Just make sure you bring it back after you haul in your little pig.” I assured him we would, and back down the road we went.

We went back down to the boat launch knowing that we had to get it right this time. Once again I took up my position on the side of the path, while Jeff and Toby went down to the fence line. “Here we go!” Jeff hollered and let Toby loose. “Catching Wilbur, take two!” I thought to myself as we replayed the previous scene. Just as before, Toby found Wilbur in a matter of seconds, and the chase was on! I could hear them long before I could see them, but here they came, Wilbur shooting down the path with Toby nipping at his heels. When Wilbur reached me I lowered the net, but this time when Wilbur ran into it, I released it (on Jeffs advice). Wilbur’s momentum took him and the net about six feet down the path, but the net held, and Wilbur got all tangled up. This was my big chance and I seized it! I pounced on Wilbur, and the net; the prize was mine! Wilbur was shrieking his little head off, fighting to get away, but I was not letting go, not after all we had been through.

We triumphantly walked home listening to Wilbur’s chorus of complaints.

Next…Wilbur becomes part of the family.

I Am an A-hole

I am evil. I know I am evil, but I can’t help it. In fact I take a fiendish glee in being evil. I wasn’t always evil; it just came upon me about eight years ago. That’s when I moved from the frozen tundra of Rochester, NY, and relocated in Miami, FL.


I remember my last day working at the airport up in Rochester, it was 5 degrees, and colder than a witch’s left bosom. In fact, the last two months I worked there, were the coldest I could remember. I really didn’t want to leave my family, and friends, but, I was forced to travel to new horizons, in order to keep my job of twenty years.


Three days later, from the back of my friend, Tom’s boat, harbored in the Florida Keys, I discovered my evilness. It was a beautiful evening, about 70 degrees, with a gorgeous sunset off to the west. I was nursing my sixth or seventh cold brew, when I got a call from my step son on my cell phone. He told me that it was a minus 4 degrees, and snowing like a bastard up in Rochester. That’s when I turned evil. I couldn’t help but to tell him how warm, and beautiful it was in my neck of the woods. Just to hear him tell me to go f#&k off made me feel really good. I realized that I took extreme pleasure, in pissing him off about how nice it was to live in paradise. In fact I took pleasure in pissing off everybody from up north about it.


Sometimes I would just causally mention, how it was 82, and sunny; after they told me they just got 15 inches of snow, other times I would complain that we were going through a cold spell, and we would hit a low of 55, with only a high temperature of 72, just to hear the responses I would get from them. There is something about living in paradise that brings out the a-hole in a guy.


If you life up north, and want to bring out your inner a-holeness, I have a guest room. Give me a call.


Did I mention that we are going through a cold spell? It is supposed to get down to 60 degrees tonight. I better put on my flannel pj's tonight! Brrrr

Fire and Icicles

After living my entire life up in the frozen tundra of Western New York (with the exception of a two year stint at the U. of Miami), I have spent the last seven years in the paradise known as Miami, Florida. After dreading the coming of winter for so many years, I am now in the enviable position of looking forward to it. Summers in Miami are hot, humid, and sticky; whereas the winter time is sunny, dry, and comfortable...well most years anyway. This year Miami has experienced record high temperatures in both the months of November, and December this year. We are in the middle of winter and still running our air conditioner! This is not right! I am supposed to be saving money on the electric bill by giving the air conditioner a much needed rest, but not this year.

In contrast, the northern states are getting hammered with bitter cold, and snow fall being measured by the foot not by the inch. There are many people I know up there that would love to change places with me. With the exception of the higher than normal electric bills, I guess I have no reason to gripe.

When I first moved to Miami many people told me that it is ungodly hot and humid here in the summer time. My response to them was "I would rather gripe about the heat than the cold." I still feel that way. There is no way I would want to change places with anyone up north in the winter time. I feel for all people that have to put up with frigid temperatures, no sunshine and piles of snow for over four months a year; however I don't feel so bad for them that I won't rub it in every chance I get.

I admit I get a fiendish kick mentioning on Facebook that we had a record high temperature of 89 yesterday after reading them moan about the cold and snow. I love to read their responses (I would print a couple of these remarks, but this is a family column) it makes me feel all warm and evil inside. I love to causally mention that it is 85 and sunny here, after my friend tells me they just got sixteen inches of snow; just so I can hear him tell me to go screw myself.

Does this make me a bad guy? Am I really evil? When I die will I be sentenced to become one of Satan's minions because of this? Perhaps, it might be fitting to have one of my old friends up in Heaven causally mention over the phone that it is beautiful and 75 there after I got done griping that it is 2500 degrees and raining flaming brimstone. I wonder; do you have to shovel brimstone out of your driveway to get to work in hell? I know there are plenty of folks up north reading this that hope I will.