Monday, June 08, 2009

I Got A Wicked Good Post Heah

Blog stats don'l lie.

Many people are finding this here blog by searching for "Tracy C. Shaddox". Some are even throwing "pedophile" in there as well. You have renewed my faith in humanity. This will now be his new moniker:

Ernest Shackleton, explorer
Barack Obama, president
Tracy C. Shaddox, pedophile

My curiosity is whether it is just blog readers or if it is probation officers, lawyers, legal people, or perhaps future cell mates wanting to see what the next crop of meat will bring.

If I can do nothing else, I can let the members of society that are currently incarcerated know this: Tracy C.Shaddox is a pedophile.

Remember what your daddy did to you?

Now, onto more important things.

The state of Maine.

I went to school in the state of maine. I sailed on the TS State of Maine, I LOVE the state of Maine.

Now why the heck has no one from the state of Maine ever tuned into my blog.

Perhaps because I've never mentioned my attendance at the University of Maine at Machias? Or my time at the shellfish hatchery on Beal's Island? Or my time crewing aboard the Natalie Todd? (Which I just learned has been sold, renamed, and is now in California under the witness protection program.)

I see people from New Hampshire, Connecticut, New York, and Massachusetts (Let it be said, Massachusetts, I NEVER referred to your statesmen as 'mass-holes' when I lived in Maine. Although you have to admit, BEST CUT DOWN EVAH!)

Maine is on the short list for where I will move when my kids are out of school. That and three other states which are famous for their decided lack of geographical psychological trauma.

In other words, I don't want to move back to a place where I can point out landmarks and say "Hey, that's where so and so broke my heart."

I never got involved with any heartbreakers in Maine. That's because I was an outsider and according to the east coast unwritten rules, you are forbidden to date an outsider and the definition of an outsider is anyone with less than four generations of relatives in the local cemetary.

That and the fact that I spent an inordinant amount of time in full foul weather gear and a grubby black watch cap.

Oh yeah baby, I was HOT!

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