HoboTalk – Episode One

Since I’ve mostly defaulted to using my YouTube channel for documenting the last several years of my life (Daily Dose of Tim), I’ve stopped blogging as much as I use to.  I’m not actually writing any less, as those who follow me on Facebook can attest.  I’m just ‘Done’ with Facebook as a platform. They’ve repeatedly shown they are incapable of handling my account and my data responsibly.  WordPress has it’s issues, but at least it hasn’t been front page news for the last couple years for trying to sell us out to the Russians and/or anybody else with ten cents to spare!  And don’t even get me started about the time they blocked me for a month for posting pornography.  I consider the added gravitas of that incident not only a resume enhancer, but also a sign of just how occupational flexible I could be in a pinch.  It’s all about finding the right angles, but I digress.

While we’re on the subject of porn I’m reminded of a cartoon porn version of Star Trek I saw about forty years ago.  One particular line of dialog is forever etched in my brain.  Doctor McCoy to Captain Kirk, “Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor not a dildo repairman!” The plot twist that led to that statement is lost to the vagaries of my galloping senility (though I lose the names still I know the faces. Time has come and left its traces.) but if I recall, it had something to do with an alien army of angry cartoon “Dickheads”.

I am extremely active on Twitter for an old hobo living in a van, tethered to the net with nothing more than spit and vinegar (whatever free public wi-fi is available),  Even with the ‘professional handicap”, I’m still heading towards a quarter million earned impressions, just in the last 28 days! 

Hundreds of Thousands Served Monthly

That noted, my heart has always been in blogging and I find it more satisfying collecting up a loyal ‘blogging family” than any of the other social media options, though I’ve acquired friends through Instagram and YouTube that are very dear to me as well.  I’m trying to increase my Instagram content at the present time.  The only one I’m actively avoiding is Facebook.

DJI Osmo Pocket

My desire to do video content has waned for the moment, along with the technical means to do so.  This may change if/when I purchase a new videocam.  I’ve been lucky to produce what I have considering the highest level of tech I own is a series 5 iPhone!  This DJI product which I might be able to afford would do a bang up job for me.  It’s the Osmo Pocket seen above.  At three hundred fifty bucks it’s right at the cusp of what an old hobo might be able to manage if Nellybelle doesn’t fall out from under me in the process.  If you haven’t seen or heard about it yet, I’m pretty sure you will before long.  Here’s the skinny.

I had previously claimed success concerning the manner in which I have accommodated the changes in lifestyle made necessary by my habitation in Nellybelle, my beloved ‘classic’ 93 Dodge minivan, but now I am officially claiming total ‘success’ on my relocation project of moving back to the US from Germany.  This is not meant to imply that things couldn’t potentially still go wildly astray in my immediate future.  It’s an important life construct to be constantly wary.  The Boy Scouts call it ‘being prepared”.  It’s what my mama raised me with.

I’m several winters into #vanlife here in the high mountain meadows.  As such, I’ve become somewhat of a local celebrity/curiosity around here, elevating my otherwise lowly status well above the average homeless derelict.  It helps that I worked here in a highly visible retail position here in town for a couple years, and having built up a lot of friends and goodwill along the way.  Being frugal and living long enough to secure the most minimal of SS benefits worked out pretty well for me.  The not dying along the way was a huge part of it.  When trying to parse the elements involved in any of my myriad success stories, be they real time events or rosy historical retellings of past glories, one must NEVER overlook how much my innate fabulosity had to do with it.  I never do. You can be sure of that! LOL.

Old Hobos
Given my recent acquisition of another rescue pup who is just as fabulous as I am, there’s every likelihood me and Sammy are going to continue kicking our own brand of high mountain magic right along down the road with us.

The many friends I’ve made here, along with all those I’m still connected with from afar (by virtue of over a decade on one form of social media or the other) are a big part of my ‘success’ here in this mountain village.  Now I’m ready to take it up to the next level in a manner consistent with proper hobo motion (slow).  Baby steps.  I could get a helluva lot more aggressive with my campaign for overnight success, but there are standards of hobo decorum that need to be considered because of my status as a role model for hopeful future hobo heretics to follow.

Did I already mention?  It’s what my mama raised me with.

Enjoy.

 

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How Subtle is Racism?

Screenshot 2018-12-02 at 1.51.03 PM
I was catching up with clips from SNL last night and among the tidbits I caught was this clip of New York humor.  It’s rather ironic that it was used in a bit delivered by a Black comedian leveraging humor off the most racist and corrupt President we’ve had since the 1800’s.

After viewing the SNL piece, I’m left to wonder if he really has a cousin named Tasha.

I’m also left to wonder if he realizes that the sorry state of masculinity and fatherhoodlessness in the Black community is a direct byproduct of the war on drugs and the destruction of what were once very stable Black neighborhoods in my early youth, and that by perpetuating an image of intentional familial recklessness on the part of both male and female Black couples he’s earning a racist paycheck whether he knows it or not.  That’s just how one White guy who happened to graduate from Jackson State University sees it anyway.

I’ve always said that if you’re going to present racist stereotype humor, it’s best delivered by a member of the minority being caricatured.  Kim Wade, Mississippi’s favorite Black Christian Nationalist, exists mainly for the purpose of having a local Black guy bash on other Black people.  It’s the way you get past the most blatant and obvious of the racism at the juicy center that even a semi-respectable right wing broadcaster couldn’t get away with back when I worked with him on-air.

These days the Christian Nationalists aren’t as beholden to the Black dog whistlers because they’ve abandoned dog whistling in lieu of Proud Boy marches and bullhorns.  I don’t think the comedian delivering these lines is in any way comparable to someone as hideously macabre as Kim Wade, but at the end of the day, I’ve got to call these things out when I see them based on my special sensitivity and expertise in the matter.

Contrary opinions will be scrutinized and mocked accordingly.

#hoboheretic  Enjoy.

The Ugly T(r)ooth of US Dentistry

It was Saturday night when I realized that my ongoing attempts to delay a much needed visit to the dentist were not going to be operative moving forward.  Suffice to say that the amount of misery that unceremoniously struck me that evening was a rude reminder of the degree of pain that one’s own body can inflict upon itself under the right/wrong conditions.  It’s as if Providence decided right there Saturday night, that it was time for my physical suffering to match that of the emotional pain I’m dealing with watching Trump trying to turn the United States into his own little Banana Republic.  But I digress…

Saturday night was fitful, with periods of semi-peace interrupted by brief sufferings mimicking nothing short of Medieval torture, but Sunday had me waking relatively pain free, figuring I could probably hold out til Monday when surely there’d be more dental options.  I can’t speak for everybody in America, but there are more than a few of us with a disdain for dentists so ingrained that a little Medieval torture seems like a fair trade off to avoid them.  Besides, I’d already made arrangements with Thomas, an old coworker friend of mine from 7-11, for an early Sunday round of Disc Golf, though that was before I knew that Saturday evening was going to be a challenging nightmare from Hell.  I mentioned my issue with tooth pain to Thomas when confirming our plans to meet at Poudre Middle School on Sunday morning and he offered and brought me a tube of OraGel which I applied lavishly upon his arrival.

We leisurely walked several rounds of nine hole disc golf in the cool breeze of the high mountain meadows morning.  In the ensuing Battle Royale, I was soundly thrashed beyond all hope and recognition as Thomas put on a disc golf show he’d previously been hiding, presumably up his ass somewhere.  I think he was taking out his frustration and aggravation on somebody smashing his car door with their foot, leaving both a huge dent and a matching dusty shoe print in the process.  Normally I could use such distractions to my advantage but I was a bit wrung out from the night’s torture sessions and didn’t really feel like inflicting the extra emotional carnage on Thomas that he’s come to expect from me.  Next time I’ll have to double up on the distracting old guy rants if I want to have any chance of upending these youngish middle-aged sport sharks.  Be assured, he took no mercy on me whatsoever during the round.  I’d have preferred to win but not having done so is no reason to denigrate the good time we had.

In what had to be one of the most awkward goodbyes in the Hipster Era, Thomas left me simultaneously writhing in pain, and wishing him a good day from my cot in Nellybelle because ‘the pain’ decided to go Level 10 at that moment and I was hopeless against it.

It was Thomas who mentioned Comfort Dental in Loveland, informing me that they accept my government dental benefits.  Thomas is close enough to being poor I knew he’d have advice on poor people health and dental care options.  I zeroed in on the Comfort Dental in Loveland near the Walmart at 57th and 287 for first thing Monday morning.  End Part One.

#hoboheretic  Enjoy.

New Year Thoughts and Plays

I pause once again to thank the goodness of my friends for helping enable the “level of success” I have achieved since returning to the US as a shell-shocked (yet surprisingly fabulous) senior citizen expat widower three years ago.  One thing I’ve learned from the experience is that there are more people out there actually paying attention to my content and concerned for my well being than I would ever anticipated. They’ve been the difference between survival and what I define as surthrival, which is at least halfway up the fourth tier on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.  Self actualization can only be achieved in a sunny high mountain meadow sipping fire-brewed coffee and passing one of Willie’s Reserve around the tambourine circle, but I don’t want to give away all the secret society stuff.  Come visit and we’ll talk.

The Hobo Heretic Has Arrived

I’m claiming my rightful throne as Hobo Heretic of the high mountain meadows.  It’s the direction that providence has pushed me.  A retirement position that combines talents acquired lately in the fine art of minivan living with my lifelong fight against the disruptive effects of belief in things that cannot be tested.  As always, my content will reflect that which interests or concerns me, untainted by the concern of mass appeal or monetary manipulations.  Expect a mix of the usual eclectic high mountain meadows magic, notes on van life along with the occasional political screed, because, well….just because.  (He’s guilty as shit and everybody knows it)

Enjoy.

Now What?

Good morning everyone!  Been awhile since I posted a long form missive on my blog, so those of you who aren’t following me on Youtube, Twitter, Instagram, Yelp etc. might want to take a trip to my Social page  if you want to keep better track of me.  As it is, I’m generally pretty busy keeping track of myself.  Here’s my latest attempt at summarizing my situation, my moods and my many mirth-filled meanderings.

Realtime Tim

I’m sitting here this morning under the heavy shade of an abnormally mature tree in the parking lot of a collection of strip malls.  This tree was probably planted when the (now defunct) K-Mart opened, which I expect was in the 70’s.  I was already in junior high back then and now I’m sitting next to a tree that’s probably 45 years old.  It’s a bit humbling realizing that this tree is really only just getting started and I’m already inching towards the finish line.

Anyway, it’s barely 8:30 but I’ve been up since around 7:00, which is about an hour after sunrise and the normal start of a working day for me. I slept in the lot at work last night so I could recharge my laptop and wake-up to a free cup of coffee (and a close bathroom…lol) before rolling out of the lot to my current location.  I just happen to have the day off and am taking full advantage of the cool breeze and morning tranquility (none of the stores are open yet) to compose this missive and upload it on some very excellent free wifi near enough I can snatch it from my post here in the van.  A homeless guy just wandered by, looked back over his shoulder at me and commented “Nice setup you have there”.  Perspective, folks, perspective.

Perspective

Unlike so many of YouTube van and RV channels, I don’t bounce around the country like a BB in a paint can.  That’s far too expensive and way too much work IMHO.  I’m much more ‘grounded’.  I’ve been at the same job and the same ‘address’ almost since the day I arrived here in Colorado.  I am a known quantity up and down these urban streets and benefit greatly from the respect I receive from people on all social levels.  For better or worse, I’ve become somewhat notorious around here.

It’s kinda funny.  I’m a beacon of hope for both the homeless and the home bound.

Brother Can You Spare a Dime?

I do my best to act as a role model for the many homeless and beleaguered souls I cross paths with as a result of my occupational awareness of the issues they confront.  They often have very little, so it’s no surprise that they are impressed with my setup.  I always point out to them that I got where I am from where they are (economically at least) on what amounts to $8.50 an hour (after my 15% loss for student loan extraction) in about two years.  Let me note that all too often, the individuals I encounter have already squandered more free resources than those I have earned.  They’ve squandered (and will likely continue to squander) every opportunity presented.  I’m not assigning blame, just noting for the record.

Pulling yourself up by the bootstraps is a hard thing to do if you are not if full possession of all your faculties and therefore, I do not mean to impugn the failures of those with far less fabulosity than I have.

It’s extremely difficult to wipe off your boots when the rug is constantly being pulled out from under you.

You Play Golf!!!??

On the other side of the economic spectrum are the more affluent, who have also taken an interest in me, generally because I’m so freaking fabulous overall and specifically because I manage to do it all while living out of an ancient minivan.  Old as she is, Nelly Belle cleans up well, runs well, and has an interior modeled after the inside of Jeannie’s bottle (if Jeannie had a 32 inch flatscreen).  I keep the interior sharp as a tack.  Neatness counts.   I sense a lot of envy from guys who are undoubtedly making way more money than I am, just as I can sense a bit of resentment and jealousy from others because I can afford to be so carefree.  Being a working, widowed, single male with no family responsibilities and no house payment certainly allows me much greater financial flexibility that many (most?) people making way more than me.  Yeah, I play golf, and don’t be surprised if you see me dining at a restaurant you assumed I was priced out of.  I’m 100% dedicated to making my life as pleasant and stress free as is humanly possible and I’m dam good at it. This fact alone is enough to engender fear and loathing towards me in at least a small subset of the population, most notably that recalcitrant 35% of folks still swinging off Trump’s nutsack.

Politics

Trump is a lying scumbag.  Was before the election.  Has been since the election.  Probably should be in jail or geriatric care.  If he fires Mueller I’ve already informed my boss that I’m immediately going on strike.  I’ll be out in the streets with a placard along the highway within fifteen minutes of that news.  I encourage other true patriots do the same.

Relationship Status

It’s complicated right now but be assured that the glorious and sordid details would shock and amuse you.  The blurb on any potential autobiography will undoubtedly be “A Must Read”.

YouTube

I’ve shifted quite a bit of my creative output to YouTube over the last couple years and will probably continue to do so.  I’ll continue to post here on my WordPress blog as time and situation warrant.

Near Future

Re-retirement at the end of the year and a hard shift to finding land and building my tiny home.

Enjoy.