The Mormon and madman

“There he goes. One of Earth’s own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and to rare to die.”

 Jaron, the beast known as The ODJ around these parts, has departed the great desert meadows for grander adventures along Huntington Beach, California. SoCal’s tweaker Riviera. He shall be missed by Las Vegas barkeeps and aimless suburban socialites avoiding strings. May the cool ocean breeze not turn you soft my friend. You are UNLV stock… U Never Leave Vegas.

 

As for my workouts… now that the conductor of the pain train has taken an out of state work assignment I expect to be a more obedient gym rat. Unlike most trainers, Jaron did not charge me for work outs. I got what I paid for. Cheap laughs and half-hearted effort. And that was what I brought to the table. We spent more time creating back stories for our fellow gym patrons than actually working out. (See My name is, what?) We were the fattest people in the gym, but knew more about fitness than the certifieds on staff.

For nearly 25 years of sailing away on conversations of the odd and askew, Jaron’s latest sojourn will be my gain. Or, my loss. If keeping score in pounds I will take the latter. 250 miles of Mojave separates us for the next 3-5 years. Peace be with me. Grateful is my humor, because our conversations will continue via text. With the thumb typing speed of hyperactive 15 year old gossipy girls and the Monday morning whit of Winston Churchill after a weekend bender at Stalin’s, the Mormon and madman will be alright. Now where are my workouts?!?!