Slack Slacker Encounters the Pumpkin Head Man

 

Slack Slacker Encounters the Pumpkin Head Man

Okay, boys and girls. Are you little ghouls ready for some terrifying shit? 

Well, buckle up, you maniacs in making after this tall tale, you’ll be fitted for a straitjacket! Let’s get started, shall we?

It was 3:33 PM on the wall clock when KLB, our hardworking and dedicated office manager, left for a planned meeting with a significant advertising client. And since she's been so understanding and forgiving of my habitual Friday absences, I decided to slip out and buy a beautiful bouquet of roses to be found on her desk upon her return. KLB has been a dream to work with, so I didn't want her to think I was taking advantage of her goodhearted nature. Unfortunately, all that changed due to the most astonishing series of events that took place en route to the florist.

When I exited the building, amid the hustle and bustle of foot traffic, begging bums, and honking cabs, I heard someone calling my name from across the street. "Slack, Slack, over here." OMG, it was Snotty Hottie from my favorite spot on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Snotty is a lot of fun once she gets to know you, but as her name implies, until she does, Snotty can seem a bit standoffish. So when she suggested we share a cab uptown to get a head start on a pre-Halloween happy hour special, it wasn't an invitation to turn down. Besides, I could always order some flowers and have KLB's roses sent to the office. I got an app for that.

When we got to the spot, Lumpy Louie, the bartender, was wearing a pirate's costume and serving up freebees to the early arrivals. In fact, most of the patrons were in costumes. While some were downright ridiculous, others were frighteningly realistic. This was a party neither Snotty nor I were prepared for, but hey, a good time was in the atmosphere, and we weren't gonna miss it. "Louie!" I yell above the bar noise. "Four shots of the second best you got." "Grab a booth, and I'll send them right over", he says with a smile, so we did.

When our barmaid, Honey Bunny, brought the drinks with a free order of buffalo wings, Snotty and I threw back a few and started a trip down memory lane, reminiscing over past drinking adventures we'd had. After what seemed like a thousand Tequila shots and as many buffalo wings later, we'd swapped so many lies that I needed a trip to the men's room, but my exit from the booth was being blocked by one of the costumed patrons. "Excuse me," I say in as sober a voice as I could muster. No response. "Dude, if you don't want homemade lemonade all over your weird get-up, you'd be wise to move." Without a word, the tall Pumpkin-head figure draped in a long black duster sat down next to Snotty. She wasn't amused.

Not in the mood or any condition to play hero, I warned the Pumpkin head man that if he wanted trouble, Snotty would be happy to kick the shit out of his ass. In disbelief of my lack of chivalry, Snotty stood up and slapped the Pumpkin head man so hard, it spun on his shoulders like a top spinning on the ground. It was almost magical. By now, others in the spot were drunkenly observing what was happening at our table and were waiting for a good drunk fight to break out. And while things did look funny for a minute, the laughter and taunting soon turned to gasps of horror when the Pumpkin head stopped spinning. We were staring at Mr. Jack O. Lantern now, and he didn't look amused either.

The pumpkin-headed man glared evilly at the shocked barflies as they stampeded out the front door. But Snotty and I were trapped. Thinking as quickly as any inebriated man can be expected to, I grabbed Snotty by the arm, snatching her from the pumpkin-headed man's grip. And not a second too soon, because just then, out of his ghastly gaze came a burst of molten lava-like substance that burned a massive hole in the floor. Snotty and I ran for cover behind the bar, but another blast of the hot pumpkin juice proved that a bad idea. When the bar's countertop began smoldering, we made a mad dash for the ladies' room, where Lumpy Louie was hiding. Oddly, the Pumpkin Head man didn't follow. 

We waited and waited and waited until the sounds of the joint being torn apart abated. Lumpy and I decided to take a chance and make a break for it, but Snotty said, "No, don't go." "This ain't over." And it was because of how Snotty said, "This ain't over," that I wondered if she had more than a clue about WTF was going on. "Hey, Snotty, I know you're a hottie, but is there any reason why the pumpkin-headed man seemed so interested in you?"  "Yes, I'm a witch", she confessed. 

Snotty went on to explain that every year, a few days before Halloween, her cult conjures up the Pumpkinhead men to take a worthless soul in payment for eternal youth and beauty. Snotty said that sometimes they can be hard to control and will even turn on their masters to take more souls than they should. "Holy shit", I say. Lumpy asked her how long she'd been messing around with the dark arts, and Snotty said 347 years. "Holy shit", I say again, again, and again. "So why is he here?" Lumpy and I wanted to know. Without hesitation, Snotty said, "He wants your soul, Slack, and he won't leave without it." I'm all out of holy shits by now, so I cut to the chase. "You're telling me I'm the worthless soul being sacrificed tonight?" "I am sorry, Slack, but I'm afraid so", she said. "Besides, if you think the Pumpkin head man is scary, you don't want to see what an angry 347-year-old witch can be like."

Feeling a sense of relief and confidence, Lumpy peered out of the ladies' room door and saw the pumpkin-headed man sitting silently at what was left of a corner table, just glaring at a cinder-covered floor. When he thought it was safe, Lumpy slipped past the orange-headed monster and escaped into the night. And the dirty bastard never looked back.

"So, what happens to me now?" I asked. And that's when Snotty gave me a ray of hope. After she took a moment to think about it, she realized I did actually try to save her life, and that wasn't the act of a worthless soul. She told me that if I could evade the Pumpkin Head man until 12:01 AM, October 31st, he'd have to look for another soul instead. I wanted to ask how I could do that, but then she conjured a broom and flew out of the ladies' room, leaving me with nothing but questions. The things you don't know about some people, I'm thinking to myself.

Again, I waited and waited and waited, but the Pumpkin head man was now standing at the smoldering bar, seemingly waiting and waiting and waiting, too. Realizing this is a standoff I can't afford to lose, I'll be here a while. I hope to return to work on Monday morning. And BTW, I'll have those roses for KLB too.

Yours truly, Lee Bines aka Slack Slacker👺

GOLDBRICKING GOOFING OFF HUMOR LEE BINES SLACK SLACKER TAKING IT EASY TGIF TIME OFF

Slack Slacker Says: For Some People, Halloween Lasts Forever!

 

This is weird even for us. Share it if you want to, but remember it is what it is! Actually, this one is outright batshit crazy. Still, it is Halloween!

Lee Bines aka Slack Slacker 👺

Slack Slacker: Time is Life, So Don't Waste It Working Hard

 

Slack Slacker: How to Never Work a Hard Day in Your Life

The title of this post may seem like clickbait, but it's really a simple piece of advice I, Slack Slacker, wanted to share. It came to me while watching a warm, lazy sunrise on Miami’s South Beach last week. Being a sun lover and an early riser, by nature, I have ideas and positive thoughts that present themselves easily and consistently as though they were divinely inspired. 

Now, I don’t want the reader of this “rambling rant” to think these ideas and positive thoughts lit a light bulb over my head like some epiphany from the heavens above, because many times, ideas and positive thoughts have penetrated my thick cranium after a night of excessive consumption of high-octane Tequila. I only admit this for full disclosure. I don’t condone or recommend this too often because it comes with well-documented negative consequences. That said, let's get to the meat of the matter. 

As a lifelong slacker, I’ve often wondered why most people willingly join the rat race of life, seeking “careers” that may pay them handsomely but, at the end of the day, are stressful and unfulfilling. When this is how one lives for too long, they generally become resentful and disappointed with the choices they made, no matter what the rewards they’d received for their efforts and sacrifices they’ve made. Most people who venture down these “career” paths conclude that the only thing they’ve done with their lives is “Worked Hard” for a living, but they’ve never really lived.  

"Those Who Realize What They Truly Love Will Only Do What They Love."  Take me for instance, I've only truly loved reading, writing, thinking, researching, solving mysteries of all kinds, and sharing my thoughts and findings. But most rewarding of all is calling out those who do evil and shining a light on their dirty deeds. Oh yeah, I also like taking long walks, cooking my own food, and sitting on the beach at sunrise.

Sincerely, Lee Bines, aka Slack Slacker😎

Welcome to Issues Under Fire 2.0

 

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Adam First. I'll be your Host for the reboot of

Issues Under Fire. This reboot will continue to analyze, dissect, and deliver commentary to help you take positive next steps as you navigate what is expected to be a turbulent, volatile, and complex set of challenges in the very near future.

As many of you know, "We the People" are going to be struggling with issues like Health Care, the next set of forever Wars, and Isolation from the Global Community due to political circumstances beyond our current control. Therefore, I, Adam First, was created by Lee Bines to assist in his efforts to move our country toward peace and prosperity in America.

Thank you for your attention. And I hope you'll share this message.

The arrogant and ignorant overreach of a corrupt and incompetent government that has captured the reins of power.

Since common sense and compassion for humankind no longer sit at the table of the Billionaire Class, those rules "We the People" so unrulily, we need to hope for the best but be prepared for the worst.

To make a long story short, the Bottom Line is this. I, Lee Bines, am back in the game of bitching and complaining with a few solutions, dip in satire, and tequila and mescal. So, if you're interested, please stop by for some productive ranting and raving that'll hopefully spark some thought.

Yours Truly, Lee Bines aka Slack Slacker 😎

😎

Slack Slacker: Time is Life, So Don't Waste It Working Hard

Slack Slacker: How to Never Work a Hard Day in Your Life

The title of this post may seem like clickbait, but it's really a simple piece of advice I, Slack Slacker, wanted to share. It came to me while watching a warm, lazy sunrise on Miami’s South Beach last week. Being a sun lover and an early riser, by nature, I have ideas and positive thoughts that present themselves easily and consistently as though they were divinely inspired. 

Now, I don’t want the reader of this “rambling rant” to think these ideas and positive thoughts lit a light bulb over my head like some epiphany from the heavens above, because many times, ideas and positive thoughts have penetrated my thick cranium after a night of excessive consumption of high-octane Tequila. I only admit this for full disclosure. I don’t condone or recommend this too often because it comes with well-documented negative consequences. That said, let's get to the meat of the matter. 

As a lifelong slacker, I’ve often wondered why most people willingly join the rat race of life, seeking “careers” that may pay them handsomely but, at the end of the day, are stressful and unfulfilling. When this is how one lives for too long, they generally become resentful and disappointed with the choices they made, no matter what the rewards they’d received for their efforts and sacrifices they’ve made. Most people who venture down these “career” paths conclude that the only thing they’ve done with their lives is “Worked Hard” for a living, but they’ve never really lived.  

"Those Who Realize What They Truly Love Will Only Do What They Love." Take me for instance, I've only truly loved reading, writing, thinking, researching, solving mysteries of all kinds, and sharing my thoughts and findings. But most rewarding of all is calling out those who do evil and shining a light on their dirty deeds. Oh yeah, I also like taking long walks, cooking my own food, and sitting on the beach at sunrise.

Sincerely, Lee Bines, aka Slack Slacker😎

P.S. If you think what I've written is difficult to achieve, these days, I recommend you ask AI for a plan of action to earn a living doing what you love to do. Be specific and honest with your prompt and see what you get. I'm betting you're going to be surprised! But whatever you do, get your mind out of that God Damned Cube!

Slack Slacker Says Social Media Is Minding Your Business

 Slack Slacker Says Social Media Is Minding Your Business

Facebook asked me, "What's on my mind?" It does this every time I open my Facebook page. But this morning, for some strange reason, I decided to answer Facebook with a question of my own. I asked Facebook, Why do you want to know? If I don't get an answer within a reasonable amount of time, the next time Facebook asks this inane question, I will respond with, "It's none of your damn business. And I suggest you do the same!   

Bottom Line: I know it’s generous to share, but be careful what you share and who you’re sharing with. There are a lot of nosey bastards in this world, and not all of them are wishing you well. I’m just sharing a few wise words to ponder. Enjoy your Day! BTW, Share this message with a friend. 

Sincerely, Lee Bines aka Slack Slacker 😎

P.S. Call me a "Psycho Conspiracy Theorist" if you will; however, I beg to differ. So there.

Slack Slacker Joy Rides with Jesus 3

Slack Slacker Joy Rides with Jesus 3

As you may recall, last Friday, I was forced to miss work due to severe injuries sustained during my kidnapping and eventual rescue from Islamic militants seeking a billion-dollar reward for my radicalized Yorkie Terrier. After that life-changing event, I prayed to Jesus that I'd never lie again, as I was determined to turn over a new leaf. Actually, since I was sure Jesus had never caught me lying before, I was sure the sucker believed me. Little did I know, Jesus had been keeping track of me for weeks, maybe even months. So, here's how it all went down.

I exited my favorite watering hole on the Upper West Side of Manhattan late last night with my best bud, Crazy Lazy. After an evening of Tequila shots with draft beer chasers, Crazy Lazy and I thought it'd be cool to check out a nearby A.A. meeting to taunt the twelve-stepers trying to get their lives back on track. That's when we heard the voice. "Say, fellas, may I have a word with the two of you?

Without a sound, a black tricked-out VW Beetle van appeared curbside with Jesus behind the wheel. The front passenger window rolled down, and a woman, whom I later realized was Mother Teresa, yelled, "Hey Slack, you wanna party?" Startled but curious, I took a quick glance in the rear seats and saw two of the hottest babes on the planet. My answer was a no-brainer: " Let's roll!" 

Peeling away from the curb with reckless abandon, silently, my only concern was with Mother Teresa riding shotgun. How do we let Jesus know he's getting stuck with Mother "Mugshot" without offending him? It was then that Mother Teresa lit up a spliff and passed it, along with a flask filled with Patron Gold, to us in the back. Crazy grabbed both and picked up where we'd left off at the bar. But I was trying to ask Jesus if this was cool. After a long toke on his own doobie, he said calmly, "When you party with Jesus, everything is cool.

During a slow spin through Central Park (closed to traffic at the time), Crazy and I got to know the two angelic babes better while enjoying Mother T's heavenly weed. Jesus, just cruising the city and taking in the sights, suddenly says, I always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. I tried to remind him it was late, it was closed, it was cold, and it would be impossible to get there by van, but after a long toke of his doobie and a few shots from his flask, Jesus said, "When you party with me, nothing is impossible."

Putting the tricked-out VW Beetle van into interstellar drive, Jesus headed south on West End Ave toward South Ferry. Neither red lights, stop signs, nor even pedestrians appeared to impede his intended destination, as Jesus carelessly navigated the rocket-like vehicle through the city streets like a maniac on meth. To say we were exceeding the speed limit would be an understatement when an NYPD ground unit began following us.

Anticipating my concerns, without flinching, Jesus took a toke, a swig, and with a sly smile on his face said, "Yo Slack, I got this!" It was apparent the cops had no chance of keeping up, so Jesus ignored them and floored them. When we went airborne off a patch of black ice, Mother T just laughed wildly while telling Jesus to go faster and faster. By now, my stomach was doing cartwheels, and when I looked over at Crazy, he'd passed out.

Since the two hotties were just as excited, I had to ask, "Was Jesus always like this?" Oddly, they both said yes, but mainly on Thursday nights. I asked Jesus to pull over and let me out, but he just called me a pussy and said the fun hadn't even started yet. As we continued to careen wildly out of control, helicopters could be heard above, tracking our movements. I saw lights ahead with heavily armored vehicles positioned along the street.

Smashing through police barricades, road blocks, and spike strips designed to puncture tires, Jesus made mincemeat of the NYPD's defenses. When we finally arrived at South Ferry, I just knew the party was over because cops were everywhere, with weapons drawn and malice aforethought etched on every face. "Jesus, you had your fun," I said. "Don't you think the party's over now?" "Besides, how can we cross the river to the Statue of Liberty in this van?" Jesus took a toke and swig and said, "When you hang with Jesus, you gotta have faith. And that's when Jesus exceeded his own hype.

Ploughing through the last guardrail of sanity, Jesus plunged the van into the river. Oh shit, I'm thinking, but miraculously we didn't sink. Jesus was driving on water. When we arrived on Liberty Island, my heart was pounding, and my head was aching. Jesus got out of his car, looked around briefly, and said, "I always wanted to visit the Empire State Building. "You Boyz Down?"

When I, Crazy, replied "Hell no!, within the blink of an eye, Jesus, the two hotties, Mother T. and the tricked-out Cooper Classic were gone. After watching the cops swarm all over Liberty Island searching for Jesus and his crew, they turned to Crazy and me for answers they wouldn't believe. C-Ya Next Monday

Yours Truly, Lee Bines (aka) Slack Slacker 😎

Slack Slacker & Doobie Tangle with Radicalized Leprechauns

Yeah, Doobie is back! Dressed in a camouflage uniform with a patch over one eye and carrying an AK-47 automatic weapon, with another crazy scheme to scam Slack Slacker into an adventure that'll put his life and job in jeopardy. While I know you've concluded by now, I have reality issues. I learned long ago that insanity can be a blast. And no drugs are needed because crazy is organic.

Yours Truly, Lee Bines (aka) Slack Slacker 😎

Oh, what the Hell, here's the copy!

After the incredible circumstances I find myself in every Thursday night, drinking and carousing with all sorts of unsavory characters, I'd just chill for once and make it into work on a Friday morning. However, God as my witness, if Salacious Curvaceous, AKA Sally Curves, weren't meeting at my favorite Tequila Joint on the Upper West Side last night, I'd be sitting somber and sober in my stupid cube today.

 

Unfortunately, it was five shots for the price of one night at the spot, and since Sally Curves can drink her bulbous booty off, naturally, it'd make sense to hook up on the cheap. After downing enough to build a pyramid of shot glasses just short of the ceiling, Sally said she'd be ready for round two after a brief visit to the big girls' room. Eying Lanky Swanky, one of the joint's snootier patrons while awaiting Sally's return, my cell rang, and, believe it or not, it was my dog, Doobie, calling. Knowing it could be nothing but trouble, I answered like a fool.

 

Come outside, I need your help getting a message to the Department of Homeland Security. I didn't know what to think, because as you may recall, Doobie was radicalized and was placed on the DHS's shit list for hooking up with ISIS. Why would Doobie want to make contact with the authorities, I wondered. Curious, I left out the back door as instructed and saw Doobie smoking a Cuban cigar with a patch over his right eye.

 

Not having seen him in a while, Doobie looked tough and hardened. After explaining how he'd lost his eye during a firefight with ISIS fighters in Aleppo, he went on to tell me that the upper West Side of Manhattan will be attacked this weekend by forces the world's intelligence agencies have yet to detect. Why are you telling me this? I wanted to know. Doobie said he's tired of being on the run. After a violent falling out with all the world's terror crews, he tried to come in from the cold, but needed to do something to show he'd changed his ways. So what's up, I ask. "Leprechauns," he says.

 

Even in my inebriated state, I wasn't buying this nonsense, especially since Doobie is such a liar. Anticipating my disbelief, Doobie flipped me the heaviest gold coin I'd ever seen. By today's cost per ounce, I was holding about 25k in the palm of my hand. "Interested?" he asked. I was. We hailed a cab, telling our stuttering Somali driver to follow the rainbow downtown. When we arrived at a brownstone on the Lower East Side, I was stunned to see three tiny little guys, all dressed in green with glowing red eyes, scurrying down into a basement apartment. WTF? 

You ain't seen nothing yet, Doobie says as he warms me, "No matter what happens, don't look them directly in the eyes." "They're really tricky," he said.

 

Apparently, the Leprechaun community was convinced the price of gold would increase tenfold if the world were hurled into global chaos. What better way to create panic in the streets than headlines reading Radicalized Leprechauns Rape and Behead New Yorkers by the Thousands. Using ISIS-like tactics, everybody would suspect ISIS was behind the terror. Well, that's what my dog Doobie said.

 

"So what's the plan?" I ask. "Simple," Doobie says, We go in, jack-em for the pot-o-gold, rat-em out to the Feds for a deal to take the heat off me and chill in Miami this spring like the kings of bling. Won't they resist? I ask. "Slack, they're tiny, just bitch slap the bastards and grab the pot." Okay, I say, but you do the slapping and I'll do the grabbing. "No problem," Doobie says as we stealthily enter a door left slightly ajar.

 

After descending several unexpected flights of stairs to a sub-basement level, we came to a large, heavily reinforced door being guarded by three tiny, green-clad figures with red, glowing eyes. Without the slightest hesitation, Doodie rounded the corner and started beating the living shit out of the startled trio. "Yo Doobie, don't you think we should find out who has the key before you slap them senseless?" "Sorry," he says, "I kinda like this part the most." From behind and avoiding eye contact, Doobie snatched the smallest by the collar and shook him so violently that a key fell from his hand. Flinging them aside like rag dolls, we opened the door and witnessed a Mother Load of gold.

 

"Grab all you can carry," Doobie says, "We'll need a little for evidence and a lot for us" No problem," I say while filling every pocket with coins and wondering how we're gonna get the heavy pot-o-gold upstairs. Just then, a loud, piercing alarm sounded, and the sound of thousands of little feet could be heard approaching. "Forget the pot, take what you got and let's get the Hell outta here". Doobie says, while reminding me not to look them directly in the eyes on the way out."

 

That was easier for Doobie than it was for me, because Doobie only had one eye. Somehow, one of the little bastards caught my gaze and said the magic words "They're Magically Delicious" before disappearing in a puff of greenish smoke. Suddenly, I felt dizzy and nauseous. I stumbled upstairs and staggered out into the streets with Doobie nowhere to be seen. The cab we'd instructed to wait with the meter running until our return was gone, and it was beginning to snow. 

"God damn it", I scolded myself. Here I was, with another evening of tall tales and not a shred of proof to back me up. Briefly, I had a ray of hope when I remembered the gold I'd stuffed in my pockets. Nobody would ever doubt me again once they saw all the gold coins I had.

 

Unfortunately, when I reached into my pockets, they were all filled with nothing but Lucky Charms. And even though they were tasty, they upset my stomach something awful. See you Monday, I've got a monster tummy ache with a mean hangover to match.

Slack Slacker’s Philosophy of Life

 

Slack Slacker’s Philosophy of Life

Let’s get serious for two New York minutes. I’m aware that many in my life have wondered why I’ve never pursued the concept of working hard to achieve success, notoriety, clout, power, wealth, and material “trappings” to impress people who hold no meaning or value for me. In this video, you will find some wise words that you should seriously consider to save yourself from a shit load of regret as you reach your inevitable end!  

One hundred years from now, all of us will be dead. Someone else will be living in your house. The car you drive is going to be scrapped. Everything you work so hard to build will be gone, given away, forgotten, and your name will completely fade away within just a couple of generations. Think about that. Do you know your great-grandparents' full names, their story, anything about them? 

This should make you realize that 99% of the worries that fill your mind every day are entirely pointless. We live on a rock that's spinning 1000 miles an hour in a universe with 400 million sextillion stars. That's a four with 23 zeros after it. And you're going to be dead soon, and I'm going to be dead too, so if you can think about that for a moment every single day, that awareness that none of that actually even matters can actually free you up to truly live your life.

This is why I’ve always adopted a carefree attitude, never worrying about the small stuff, and living and letting live. But most importantly, I always give everyone who crosses my path a reason to smile and be happy. This is my philosophy of life, and it has served me well. So relax, life is not meant to be difficult, stressful, chaotic, or dramatic. Life was always meant to be happy, peaceful, and easy.

 

Yours Truly, Lee Bines, also known as Slack Slacker. 😎

Slack Slacker and Revenge of the Buffalo Wings

In this adventure of Slack Slacker, Slack is attacked by a giant foul fowl, bent on avenging his family that was consumed as appetizers by greedy partygoers looking for cheap late-night munchies and Tequila.

Were it not for Colonel Sanders of KFC, Slack Slacker may not have survived this horrible, harrowing experience. This is genuinely one of Slack Slacker's tallest tales told! Thanks for believing me. So, few do.

Yours Truly, Lee Bines (aka) Slack Slacker 😎

Slack Slacker, Doobie & The Mind Manipulator

 

 Slack Slacker, Doobie & The Mind Manipulator

We want to introduce you to Doobie, Slack Slacker's radicalized pet Yorkie. Doobie has been on the run from every domestic and international law enforcement and spy agency on this planet. Doobie is a bona fide mad dog, determined to undermine the world order as we know it. And as usual, Slack Slacker is caught up in another unbelievable situation that'll challenge your faith in Slack's ability to tell a tale without exaggerating.

Yours Truly, Lee Bines (aka) Slack Slacker😎

Slack Slacker's Mission Impossible in Mosul

Slack Slacker's Mission Impossible in Mosul

This tall tale is more than ten years old, when my pet Yorkie, Doobie, turned to the dark side. He committed himself to a life of crimes against humanity. Yes, he expanded his criminal activities internationally. Doobie went so bad that the CIA, NSA, FBI, ATF, MI6, and Interpol wanted him dead by any means necessary. Now, AITA for thinking you won't believe me when I say I was forced to apprehend Doobie because I was blamed for his radicalization. Ain't that a Bitch?

Well, since I retired from doing essentially "Not Much," I've had time to reminisce about the unbelievably misadventures and unlikely fantastical predicaments only a SLACKER could find himself in. I know this all sounds ridiculous, but my life choices beat working hard for a living. And I got away with it. Go figure!

So, enjoy the video and share it with a friend.

Yours Truly, Lee Bines (aka) Slacker 😎