A Guinness Extra Stout.

A Guinness Extra Stout. Oh yes, that hits the spot. Am I extra stout? No, I would say not. I am stouter than some, much less stout than many. I am probably right at the top of the bell curve when it comes to being a stout, suburban father. You know, a badass dad who keeps a gun and kills small animals for fun vs. a simpering bleeding heart who wears the panties in the family. I’m right in the middle. I liked watching some romcoms with my wife and her favorite shows when we were dating, just to show her I wasn’t completely opposed to sitting through these things and being entertained by them. But, I prefer Sci-Fi and violent action, horror and thriller movies–mostly psychological horror, but if someone’s guts need to be opened up now and again, I can be a fan. However, I have completely stopped watching sports, except when the game is on at my Father-in-Law’s house. In that aspect, I guess I tend toward the simperer.

I think of myself more as a primitive, than a pansy. I don’t like guns, tools and gadgets mostly because I prefer simple machines and primitive things. If you left me completely to my own devices without any sort of sense of duty and obligation to family and loved ones, I would be a homeless, crusty guy.

I’ve never considered my civilization to be one that was air-tight guaranteed to remain the way that it is. In fact, I would hardly be surprised (though I don’t want this to happen) if our civilization collapsed and anarchy broke out for a few decades before some heavy-handed brute pulled it all back together again and we reformed under the Mark of the Beast–at least those of us who don’t care about our souls–where I am not even including myself in the Royal We.

I’m not a Luddite or anti-technology–I want to be clear about that. I am simply not opposed to the idea of living without most of it. While it’s here, yes, I am going to leverage the technology that I like to use.

Then, I go looking at trucks on Craigslist under $3500. I want to have one and some land out in a place like Smithville some day. Or, Charleston, South Carolina. I can live out there and write mysteries like John Grisham.

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