Embrace the conspiracy of life

With all its intrigue and treason

Dance to the music

Sway with the breeze

Explore the adventure

Never to be assumed

Always to be celebrated


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The price is night

Hello loser. Hey you fucking loser. What, are you trying to sleep? So here it comes. Every fucking thing I’ve fucked up, everyone I’ve hurt, everything I’ve lost decides at this moment to come flooding back into my conscious thought process. Oh no, you couldn’t keep quiet tucked into my subconscious. You couldn’t be satisfied with knowing it’s only a matter of time before I add to the considerable pile stashed in the recessed corners of my mind. Oh no, it’s time. I can hear my conscious Bob Barker shouting, “come on down, the price is fucking right, let’s fuck with him now.”

I’d pay big pharmaceutical dollars to not be typing onto this screen at this moment. I’d love to be in a blissful pharmacological stupor. I’d love to not have fucked up literally everything in my life.

The voices are so loud tonight. Louder than they’ve been in a long time. I keep feeding them. I don’t mean to but it all stays inside. It all stays inside.

My earliest memories are of the screaming voices in my head. Not playing in the backyard on a sunny day, not swinging on a swing, not some warm family moment captured forever on the cover of some hallmark card. I remember the feeling of the screaming in my head. I remember how the screaming in my head made me feel. It hurt my stomach.

It’s funny, I don’t recall ever being able to discern words. It was more the physical impact of the screaming inside my head. I guess it’s like people’s reactions to the sound of fingernails on a blackboard. But not really.

A recoil. How do you recoil from a sound in your head. Unlike the blackboard you can’t physically move away from sounds in your head.

Ormond Street. Right off of Bridgeport avenue. That’s where I first heard them. Actually, that’s where I first felt them.

I remember trying to cover my ears so I couldn’t hear them. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. Nothing works.

It’s okay though. They’re my noise and my voices. Weird though, they are not my screams.

There you go, are you happy now? You bastards of cranial cacophony.

Don’t be afraid, it’s all in my head.

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Quiet, There be Ham About

I drove by a sign the other day that got the better of me.


Ham Shoot, what the hell is a Ham Shoot?

I can see it now……

First….what type of camo-gear do you wear to hunt ham?  Do I dress as some other barnyard animal?  Do I slather myself in honey or mustard and then roll in cloves?  I know, maybe I’ll grab a pineapple or two and secure them to my body.   A ham would never run from a pineapple.  Never.

I grab the Winchester.308 rifle from the secure gun closet, my custom made leather ammo belt with 100 rounds tucked safely into it  and head out to my pickup.

Damn, I forgot, I don’t have a pickup truck.  So I head out and get into my Toyota Prius.  Yes that battery powered wonder car capable of going from zero to sixty in about a week and a half.

I jump in and head off for the Ham Shoot.  As I head down the road I figure I might as well stop and get a coffee and some chew.  I mean, come on, it wouldn’t be a Ham Shoot without some chew.

I pull into the convenience store, run in and grab a black coffee and a tin of shredded beef jerky chew and head back to the Prius.

What?  You have a problem with beef jerky chew?  Sorry but I can’t stand that smokeless tobacco product.  The last time I put a wad of that in my mouth I was dizzy in about 15 minutes and then nauseous the rest of the day.  I figure walking around the woods hunting ham is not a good place to be dizzy.

I arrive at the Sportsman Club thinking this is going to be an interesting day.  Maybe I’ll be hanging out in someone’s tree stand waiting for an unsuspecting ham to wander by or maybe I’ll be tracking the some ham hocks through the denseNew England forest.

I go over to the recon board where this morning’s reports are highlighted.

Damn, there is ham everywhere!

According to the report:

  • A large pack of Smithfield’s were spotted about a mile away in a field
  • Elusive spiral ham tracks were seen by the river
  • There are random sightings of the solitary and vicious or is it viscous canned ham all over the area
  • Rare prosciutto were spotted sunning themselves near the mountain
  • And last but not lease there is a herd of wild smoked maple hams near the summit of the mountain.

So with my rifle over one shoulder, my custom leather ammo belt around my waist, two fresh pineapples bungeed together and draped around my neck like a fruit lei and a pocketful of synaptic provocateurs, I head off into the woods to get me a ham.  No not Mia Hamm, get me a ham.




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Positive Difference

Splendid morning here in the Happy Valley.  Sun is up, there is a brisk wind blowing and the temperature is a wee bit nippy 45 degrees.

Today is another one of those – get my head outta my ass days.  I seem to be having a year of these head outta my ass days.

I am empowered with a list that is long and damn it, I am going to get it all done.

I so frustrate myself.  I paralyze myself with self-doubt and self-loathing that I end up shutting out everything good in my life.  Whether that be family, friends, experiences or simply life.

So last night before I went to bed I plugged in my double-secret pozitoodinal recharging system and my energy level is outrageously high today (never mind the 36 oz of coffee).  Dangerously high I’d dare say.

Had a wonderful day with the family yesterday.  In true McIntyre fashion we went to visit Milt (dad) at his current resting spot.  See the below photo…..don’t ask.  All I know is that I am sure Milt would approve.

nuff said

From left to right the asses are (Michael, Betty, Des, Judy and Ed)  I was behind the camera.

So on this beautiful Monday morning I have but one goal for the week and that is to make a positive difference.  Make a positive difference in my life, in some one else’s life, to the planet, to society….I don’t care.  All I know is that this week, I will make a positive difference.

My challenge to you is to do the same.  It’s a simple goal and a goal that we all should be able to achieve.  Shit, if I can do it so can you.

Get out there and rock the positive difference.

Pozitoodinal righteousness will reign supreme!

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23 minutes

23 minutes of pozitoodinally righteousness.  That was the time it took me to go from the car to the top of Rattlesnake Knob on the Holyoke Mountain Range.  23 minutes of lung burning, sweat inducing joy.

Watch out world, the endorphins are running wild today.  Who the hell knows what I’ll do next.

Yee Fucking Ha!

According to an email I received it only takes 23 minutes to reverse the aging process.  If I can keep doing the knob in 23 minutes I too can reverse the aging process and it didn’t cost me nothing but 23 minutes of my day.

So as you ponder your day, think about if you can fit 23 minutes of pure pozitoodinal righteousness into your day.  Screw that – FIT 23 minutes of pozitoodinal righteousness into your day.

Maybe it’s 23 minutes of sitting quietly.  Maybe it’s 23 minutes of reading a book for pleasure.  Shit, maybe it’s sitting for 23 minutes in your car and not swearing at anybody.

Take 23 minutes for yourself today.  It’s a great way to start!

Ciao Mein!

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Fall Classic Reprised

Below is an original post of mine from October of 2007.  Based on a few animated conversations with friends I thought it would be appropriate to update it for 2009.

The Fall Classic – nope, I am not talking about the World Series of Baseball.  Nope.  I am talking about the Fall Classic.  The championship of championships.   The only sport that encourages the use of performance enhancing drugs, is violently opposed to dog fighting, supports all efforts to decriminalize the use of David aka Mr. Puff Puff and is still in search of that corporate sponsorship and ESPN coverage.  I can see it now – signs all over the 1970 Sport Fury from our sponsors –  Ez-Wider, Oreo cookies, Lays potato chips, Stone Brewing Co., Greenflash Brewing, High Times.  Shit, for the right coin I have no problem selling out. 

I’d love to hear the commentary on ESPN.  They could have the dudes that do Nascar races cover the Fall Classic.  Shit, it would be more interesting than talking about cars making only left turns for 5 hours.

It could go something like this:

Daryl:  Well then Brad it looks like Nick has taken a more aggressive position since he was handed the keys to the car from Pat.  Nick inherited a line of 5 cars behind him and he has already increased it by 3.  He does have to be careful because at 42 miles an hour in a 50 MPH zone he is quickly moving into that neutral speed activation range.

Brad:  Well Daryl, I think you’re full of crap.  Pat had a fine run going and the only thing Nick has done is fog up the windows and …..

Daryl:  HOLD ON NOW BRAD, I think Nick just spilled his Greenflash IPA – if so that is a 10 point deduction for alcohol abuse.

Brad:  Holy Jeebus Daryl, I think you’re right.  Let’s go back to the slo-mo replay and see if some of that fine Greenflash IPA actually tumbled from the cup and into Nick’s lap.  YEP, I can see it clear as day Daryl….

I could go on…… 

Before we kick off the Fall Classic we need to acquire a few things.

First is a big ole car from the 1970’s.  You know one of those cars from a time when Buicks were cool.  Actually, I am not sure Buicks were ever cool.  There are a lot of decent choices.  The Chevy Impala or Caprice are noble choices as is the Ford Galaxy 500 series.  My choice is the 1970 Plymouth Sport Fury GT.  Why the Sport Fury?  Cuz it’s the embodiment of all things american.  Shit, it had enough metal in it to build 4 or 5 Subaru’s.  It’s one of the largest two door coupe’s ever produced and was powered by a 440cubic in. engine capable of producing 390 horsepower.  This engine also generate 490 ft. lbs. of stump pulling torque.   Plus there were less than 700 of them built!  Less than 20 had the “6-pack” option (3 dual carburetors)  vrooom, vrooom.

It was almost 18 feet long (think Chevy Suburban) and over 6 and a half feet wide.  In this instance, size does matter.   It makes a fucking Hummer look like a Geo.  Plus, it’s great, great, great grandma was the 1958 Fury which was Stephen King’s Christine.   Talk about a bitchin car…..

OK.  We got our car.  Next we need some big ol’ fake glasses and a gray or blue haired old lady wig.  Also, as recommended by my my friend Nick, we need some baubles like a pearl necklace (don’t go there), maybe a strand or two of Mardi Gras beads or maybe a fine “Easter like” bonnet. 

Finally, the Fall Classic would not be complete without a cornucopia of synaptic provocateurs for the ride.

Here’s the game.  We load up the car with stuff for the weekend and put on our wigs and glasses to complete that “Leaf Peeper” look and then head out to the back roads of New England to terrorize all those folks looking at the foliage….we’re gonna leaf peep the leaf peepers.   

Here’s the skinny – you got this huge fucking car that, when the accelerator is depressed to the floor, will generate enough torque to rip your head off  right off your fucking shoulders.  The car is the key.  You will use it to create a rolling road block.  Nothing better than slowly cruising up route 103, 5, 100, 4…etc. in Vermont with a funeral parade of cars behind you and some great tunes flowing out the windows. 


The scoring is as follows:

1.   You get one point  for every car that you can get stuck behind you.  You get 2 points for every car stuck behind you if your speed is less than 25 mph.  If you get more than 10 cars stuck behind you there is a 2x multiplier for every next car that ends up stuck behind you.

2.  For every car that tries to pass you that you speed up and block from passing you get 10 points.

3.  If a car passes you successfully it’s minus 5 points.

4.  Every time someone beeps the horn at you, you get a point.

5.   Every time some one flips you the bird you get 2 points.

6.  If you get pulled over by the police and escape with nothing more than a smile and laugh you get 100 points.

7.  If you get pulled over by the police and get a ticket (not sure for what) you get minus 25 points.

8.  If you have to stop and pee and anyone passes you lose 1 point per car.

9.  If you have to stop and pee and leave the car in the road blocking anyone from passing, you get a 20 point bonus.

10.  If by chance a car of elderly males pulls up and asks you to have a drink you win automatically.

11.  If you are within 5 miles an hour of the posted speed you enter the neutral speed activation range in which you score no points for adding cars behind you.

12.  Any spillage of beer or droppage of David results in a 10 point scoring deduction.

You alternate driving every 2 hours.  The first driver to 200 wins.  The length of the game is until it is over.

Game starts next weekend…gotta go car shopping today….heheheheheheh



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I am listing to one side

I am updating an old post (from February 2007), for a friend.

Well almost updating it, first up is walking Otis the Wonder Dog outside for his morning pee and poop.

Me walking Otis is not a pretty sight.  Actually Otis walks me in the sort of way a boat drags it’s anchor across the bottom of a lake or ocean.

Wow, what a morning here in the Pioneer Valley.  It is already 74 degrees yikes.  Hold on, what’s that sound, yep it’s Al Gore voice echoing through the trees. 

Is there anything better than sitting out with that fresh cup of coffee listening to the world come alive on a glorious Sunday morning.   The smells of the morning are amazing including the fresh Otis poop – better outside than in the house.

I am sure you all know someone who is a list-giver.  You know the person who manages their expectations of people through the distribution of assignments organized in columns via hardcopy (paper) or email.  I envy such people. 

I envy their ability to be that organized and that precise.   I think my world would be easier if I could become one of these people because I still have way too much to do. 

One of my many problems is that the simple activity of making a list of what needs to get done is exhausting.  The thought of having to put together a list usually paralyzes me into non-activity. 

I just can’t put together a list.

Well that’s not true, I can put together a list, I just don’t feel like putting together a list at this moment or any moment in the future. 

A wise friend of mine once said of procrastination, “Why do today what you may not have to do tomorrow.”  I love that thought.  Unfortunately I have found my friends guidance a wee bit, how shall I say, misguided.  You see, when something ends up on the “to do” list it never, ever ends up on the “you don’t need to do it” list.  

Last week I had a significant setback to the attainment of completing said lists, yes, I had to fire my third shift.  Not because of any slowdown in the economy or the non arrival of TARP or stimulus package funds.  Nope, I had to fire my third shift because they didn’t do shit.

That’s right, they didn’t do shit.  

Every morning I woke up and nothing on my “to do” list was done, NOTHING.

Lazy, that’s what they were, just plain lazy.  

Unless I am around to motivate them they spend all night lounging about drinking beer, ingesting any synaptic provocateur they can get their hands on and chasing lime green Lemurs while giving Paris Hilton a piggyback ride.  Ughh!  

So now I have to hire a new third shift.  The training alone is going to take me forever. 

I just finished putting together an on-line advertisement for the team and yes Mike E I am saving the Supervisor job for you.

Wanted – multi-talented figments of my imagination to work on my personal “to do” list while I sleep comfortably in bed.  Compensation is commensurate with experience.  Apply within…..

How cool would that be – your own personal third shift.  You know a team of folks that will pick up the slack and work on your personal list of things to do while you sleep and dream about your “don’t need to do it list.”   

Is there such thing as a “you don’t need to do it” list?  Hmmm, I like the concept.  You compile the list during the day of things you don’t need to do and then at the end of the day you can check them all of as not being done.

What a satisfying way to end the day.  Everything on the list would not be done.  The ultimate sense of achievement.  I just started my list for today:

Sunday -You Don’t Need To Do List

Paint the dog
Mow the carpet
Shave the neighbors cat
Bury nuclear waste in backyard
Run the Kentucky Derby
Carve a idol god
Rake the bathtub
Find my lost skull and bones tree house key
Make a concrete canoe

Wow – I am feeling better already!  I haven’t done shit and already have gotten a lot accomplished.

 Gotta go, someone just applied for the third shift and my subconscious wants to interview them ASAP.



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