-- Independence Day
When the scales creep up toward 235 lbs... aka Blogpocalypse, it is very important that Jaron; my friend, my trainer, and my dedicated chop buster is distracted by hot women or really ignorant gym patrons when I step on the scales. Because if he doesn't see the number, the number doesn't exist.
I am bound by the 5th Amendment and a middle school fear of habeas corpus in an orange jump suit. So I cannot confirm or deny that a few tenths of a pound are keeping me under 235 lbs. The existence of this blog is teetering on the verge of nuclear holocaust. We are in the throes of the 1962 Cuban missile crisis and JBK is playing the part of JFK. Unlike the beloved Catholic and Marilyn Monroe loving President, our protagonist in this crisis has less hair, the DTs, and little tolerance for communist cramping his vacation plans. Freaking commies are always trying to tell us what to do.
If the
good doctor finds out I've slid all the way back to my 2012
weigh... bye, bye to the venerable institution know as No
Fat Jokes Please. There is good news to report during these
smoggy times. We are looking strong in our resurrection of the
Stability Phase. Hopefully the next post will come... we live day by
day under the constant threat of digital annihilation. If my fat
cells can come to a collective bargaining agreement with metabolism, the
next blog post should paint a wonderful picture of the hell that is
stability.
Ole JT would make a terrible spy. His grasp of secrecy is infantile. If you don't want me to know about it, don't publish it in the blog in which I am blood-oathed to reply. Blogpocalypse is nigh! 235! Square one?! I am, apparently, a scarce few tenths of a pound from comprehensive trainer failure, and, from pulling the plug on this journalistic juggernaut that is limping along on life support. We's broke down in Death Valley, people, last known refuge of the Manson family. I am beginning to question my unfounded nihilism. If I am JFK in this narrative (rather than JBK), I've just arrived in Dallas, ready to board my wildly impractical convertible. We need a change of course, perhaps avoid Dealey Plaza. This phase is a last ditch effort to cull the obesity bug that appears to be going around. Time will tell if my mad genius is more mad or genius. Stay tuned, rubes...
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