One Ringy Dingy Two Ringy Dingy

Recently my phone battery discharged. It was inactive for an unknown period of time. After recharging I turned it on to find two garbled messages. One was something about an Apple Macbook possibly and the other did not come through at all unless it happened to be about Teamspeak. There was an entry of "TS" at one point, but this may have been coincidence. Anyway, folks I've asked everyone time and time again to pick up the phone and call me. If you are concerned about an involved conversation, yes I can be longwinded, then tell me that you are making a 'text' phone call. You won't even have to say goodbye. I will be brief as possible. It takes longer to type the text than say the words. Depresses me that people apparently don't like my voice and avoid verbal conversation. I am sorry about missing the messages. This has been a recurrent issue since we had a block put on my phone not to receive photos. The block may in some weird way be the source of the problem. Who knows? Probably not. First guess is the strange cell tower network in Saltillo. Phone phreaky!

If you receive a bill increase of say 30 or 40 bucks per month because people constantly send you pictures (that you've nicely requested not be sent) then what else can you do but block them? I don't have a digital plan. Can't afford it. I don't receive pictures. Can't afford it. I look at that 30 or 40 dollars a month as gasoline or cheap unhealthy food, both in short supply. So please don't blatantly attempt to muck up this situation because you have more income or just don't care. Hmmm, okay those that have forgotten the spoken language keep texting. Better than nothing. Back to the subject at hand: I loathe not having money. Thanks to Nobama and this rotten economy many of us are living well below our normal comfort level. Still, at least I am not in some God forsaken place like North Korea or Iran. Oh yeah, if you don't like my negative take on the current administration or gathering places of foreign idiots and fools please get the hell off my page.

Recently the beach house was blessed with a gift. "What," you ask? New cell phone, a sorely needed device. It's a Samsung Strive which is super nice. Thanks MJR for coming to my aid once again. I like it in spite of the fact the keypad was designed for a person of sub-Hobbit stature. The keys are about .25" square. The tips of my fingers are barely small enough to manipulate most elevator buttons and certainly can't use these keys. This reduction in size is pretty much the norm in all cell phones. Aside from the small keypad input device, this little non data plan phone is awesome. Looks good, feels good, easy to read, stores a ton of music, has pleasant tones and an extremely long battery life. It suits me after 7-8 years of using Motorola Razr phones. And another bit of info: If possible ALL texting n such on this phone would be shut down. If I can ever afford a nice data plan and phone to match where the touch screen actually can be used by my clumsy fingers then it's almost a sure thing my opinion will change. So please please call me or send an email to cybersouth@gmail.com.

This, sadly, is a necessary post. Somehow this will mean to some folks that they need to stop communication with me. Here's the proverbial nutshell - Look, I'm no spring chicken. Death has its eye on me and I've managed to skirt around it a few times in this life. Time and "luck" are running out. Feel guilty here? Then good. You should. I am looking out for others and myself. Here's the deal: You'll kick yourself in the ass once they've mixed my ashes with mule manure and sprinkled it out of an airplane over the left wing liberal section of the Democratic Party National Headquarters. Certainly no offense meant to my intelligent, conservative Democratic friends. Yes, the ones that didn't vote for Nobama. Anyway, you might want to talk to me just so you won't have to say stupid stuff like "I wish I'd told him so n so' or 'damn, he's gone and I can't bitch at him about that' or 'sorry devil died to keep from paying me.' The voice of experience is speaking. BTW, the mule manure thangy came from some creative thinking to avoid being dug up and bitched at some more or having to do some work after death. Let's face it, there's a chance of a bad lingering odor but once I am dead, hopefully there will be peace smelly as it may be...

In closing, just remember those famous words of Elvis the Pelvis aka Hound Dawgy, "We can all use a helping hand once in a while...so could you pass me another helpin' of those mashed potatoes n gravy? Thank you. Thank you vuurry much!"