Poppa, Summerisacuminin & Six Degrees of Fuckedness

It's Father's Day, and I think of mine. But it has been 30+ years he's been gone and memories fade. I do remember his laughter, which is where I got my guffaw. He was a character, he was a thinker, he was a Milton, he taught me a lot. I miss him.


It's also Summer Solstice, time to bring plans to fruition. The vivid lush greens are spectacular here. We've had enough rain in Vermont to make everything burst out & thrive well.

I've also composed a scale of fuckedness. See how much applies in your life.

First you have fucktards. They can't help it, whatever it is.

Then come fuckers. That can apply to anywhere, anything, anyone.

Then you have fuckin fuckers, the irritating fuckers.

Then you get motherfuckers. They are muthafuckers.

Then you have motherfucker fuckers, who outfuck the motherfuckers. This can also be a compliment, as in, "Keith Emerson is a motherfucker fucker!"

And then there are motherfucker uberfuckers. There are no words. The last words in fuckedness.

So how many fuckers apply in your life? I have mostly 2nd and 3rd degrees...