Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Friday, 24 April 2020

Filthie’s Friday Flatulent Philharmonic Pops

Morning all ~

Like many... with time on my hands, I’ve put some effort into getting some chores done that I absolutely would rather not do. One of them is shredding old financial records. We keep our receipts and file them in bankers boxes in case we ever get audited... but I kinda let them pile up over the years. You only need to go back 7 years, I am told... and we go back twice that. They take up space, and collect dust and are a pain to clean around. So... I’m shredding paper. It’s boring as hell and time consuming.

But that isn’t the issue. I can’t help but read some of them as they pass through my hands. An old vet bill for Joe The Cat... or Sled Dog Sally... I remember them with love and fondness. A bill for a present my wife bought for our daughter, back when she was a beautiful young lady with world at her feet. A bill for a supper out with the outlaws back before the world went nuts. All these memories come flooding back... and then get turned into confetti in the shredder. I’m at that age where a lot of stuff is better of being forgotten than remembered! I dunno who said it (probably one of you guys): why is it so hard to let go of old baggage that is extremely heavy and painful to drag around? It’s the damnedest thing...!

Being of unsound mind and unsettled body today - I have a disjointed collection of the usual rot you’ve come to expect from The Thunderbox.

I DO have an odd treat, plucked from the unplumbed profundity known as Blab. Y’all will want your tuxes for it, and I’ve saved it for last. Enjoy your Friday.

1 comment:

  1. The paint-shaker girl; we used to go into the local hardware store, where the shakers were in the pain aisle for anyone to use. We'd clamp in a couple of cans of soda, turn on the machines, and walk out the door...