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Fun with a normal white guy...
Sharing experiences in the world of debauchery.
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More Scammers
Posted:Oct 14, 2020 9:56 am
Last Updated:Oct 18, 2020 8:19 pm

Back in Kansas after helping my parents get downsized. More on that to follow later, when I have some time.

While I was with my parents, prepping them for their move, I was shocked by the number of scam phone calls they received. These were after I blocked the assholes from the original set of scams. In the interest of payback on scammers everywhere, I did my best to have a bit of fun with the ones who called.

For example, we received a call from someone claiming to be with the Social Security Administration (actually, two different people over two days), advising that my parents' SS numbers were being used fraudulently and assets could be seized. So, when I asked them to confirm they were with SS, I followed with rapid fire questions.

When was the Social Security Administration founded??? Under what president? Tell me!!!

The woman went on to receive 'What are you wearing? Who's your daddy???'

A demanded the guy tell me if he sucked dick and that he sounded like a major cum chugger.

Another call was from an IT services company who said they were going out of business and were authorized to refund the $500 fee they charged (there was no service). All I had to do was log into an account with personal information and something else that I clipped with another peppering of questions about billing history, last payment, and whether the guy sucked dick or just fucked goats in the country he lived in.

Surprisingly, none of the people stayed on the line long.

But these are more examples of scams that the elderly could easily fall for. My mother was actually engaging the Social Security dick sucker, before I grabbed the phone from her.
The World in Two Parts
Posted:Sep 10, 2020 11:49 am
Last Updated:Nov 14, 2020 8:23 am

Continued below
The Promised Land Beckons
Posted:Sep 3, 2020 6:16 pm
Last Updated:Sep 4, 2020 7:52 am

Last night, I wrote a long ass, maudlin entry about how Kansas is slowly draining the life from my soul and how hopeless I feel, now that I'll be tied here indefinitely as a result of my father's alcohol induced dementia. I was more vulnerable with it than any other entry I've written, disclosing my own mental health challenges that have resurfaced, as a result of living here. In what I thought was a clever homage to Billy Joel, it was titled "Bill, I Believe This Is Killing Me". I wanted to jump off a cliff, but remembered I was in Kansas, where there aren't any, because everything's fucking flat. Then, I stumbled upon a seed of an idea, which has grown to almost full maturity in the past 18 hours. This mostly mature idea is a plan to actually get my ass out of here, as well as the asses of my parents.

At this point, what keeps me here comes down to money. It'll take a bit of it to get the rents and myself moved. While my parents gave theirs away, they do have a fair amount locked away in the form of equity in their house. That'll be unlocked by the end of the year (hopefully) and will be under my exclusive control. My reward for going above and beyond for my parents will be to live on the East Coast again. The way I figure it, they'll want to get the fuck out of here as I do, after they've lived here for a year, so they'll agree to whatever achieves that goal. Obviously, I'll pay my fair share of the move.

And there was light at the end of the tunnel and there was much rejoicing. Guess you'll have to find some vulnerability somewhere else!
Part 2 of Drunkenness, Scammers, and Seven Figures
Posted:Aug 31, 2020 5:08 pm
Last Updated:Sep 2, 2020 10:36 am

To recap from last entry, my drunken, slimy father gave away his life savings to scammers from somewhere in the Muslim world and I was left to put the pieces back together.

Long story short, my father did have a fair amount of money in his checking account, which I immediately took over and moved to an account he can't get to. He actually fought me a bit on that one, at which point I asked him to dig out the power of attorney they signed a few years ago. He apparently had the mental acuity to recognize that I didn't need his permission. Hell, I could have gone to the bank and taken him off his own account! Plus, I reminded him of the terms and conditions of my assistance, which are you do as I say, period.

As it turns out, they thankfully also have a fair amount of equity in their house. Plus social security and his pension. But they have no other option than to downsize into an apartment. Because I don't want them to be on their own any more, I'm moving them to be near me. I told him that because he trusted goatfuckers over his , he's going to die in fucking Kansas. While I'm ranting, my father called me last week, saying the scammers were trying to wire him money and his troubles could be over. That broke the camel's back with respect to any shred of sympathy that may have been hiding somewhere and I went completely nuclear on him. After repeatedly pointing out how the whole fucking thing was a scam PLUS forwarding him a note from the real HSBC that said the statement was bogus. Honestly, if it weren't for my mother, I'd let him rot in Florida.

All of this should give you an idea of what endeavors have occupied my time, recently. Dealing with realtors, looking for living accommodations, throwing things, etc.

Finally, not only has my father fucked himself, he's royally fucked my life as well. You see, COVID has demonstrated to the legion of skeptics that people can be even more productive working from home than in an office building. Having been an independent consultant for five years, I already knew this. I'd already made it clear to my management I had no intention of returning to an office. Regular readers can see where this is headed, which is the realization that holy fuck, I could move back to civilization!!! Just before Dad, I'd been mulling over whether my mental well being was worth the $12k I'd be out of pocket to reverse relocate. But, I could see it...I could see the promised land! Then, my father happened and my bit of happiness was short lived, because now, if I move back, I'd have to cover moving expenses for both my parents and myself, plus deal with the additional complexity. So, my dipshit father not only managed to fuck his own life and that of my mother's, but fucked mine as well. If anyone wants me, I'll be banging my head against the wall in the garage.
Of Dementia, Drunkenness, Scammers, and Seven Figures
Posted:Aug 29, 2020 4:04 pm
Last Updated:Sep 1, 2020 6:14 am
Thankfully, almost no one who reads this knows my true identity, which I guess is sort of the purpose here. That anonymity allows me to share shit that's quite embarrassing.

Ultimately, this one will include a life lesson, followed by a complete rant. I'm breaking it into two entries to make it less of a hump to read. Buckle in for a bumpy ride.

My father in a nutshell - really fucking smart, emotionally stunted, and a drunk. He was a well educated professional and rose from essentially being a clerk up to the C suite. He and my mother have been in Florida for about a decade, living in their exclusive gated community. My relationship with him hasn't always been great, due to the second and third trait I listed above. The last few times I visited, something about him seemed off, as though his mind was losing its sharpness. But I figured it was because he was drunk most of the time...was it alcohol or the onset of dementia?

About a year ago, I received an email from him indicating he and my mother needed to come live with me, because they were out of money. It seems he had lost most of his retirement savings in a investment scam around real estate in Turkey. I got on a plane and found he had just enough to stay in their home. I also made a point of finding out exactly how he had been scammed and was flabbergasted. Every bit of 'official' communication came from the common email domains starting in Y and G. This included the heads of state banks in Turkey and UAE. Once they hit him once, they kept hitting him with stories about how his money had been found and all he had to do was send even more money to get it back. And he blindly sent them over $750k. These fuckers screamed amateur hour. In one instance, my father asked about an email he supposedly received from the Murat Çetinkaya, the governor for Turkey's central bank. Aside from it coming from one of the email domains I mentioned, a quick search found that dude had been sacked by Erdogan two months prior. I couldn't fathom how my father couldn't recognize this shit for what it was, prima facie.

Anyway, I left from our visit and hit him hard with the message of don't give any more money to these people, which he agreed. Since then, I'd been asking him regularly if he'd been in communication with the scammers and he promised that he wasn't. My mother was convinced otherwise and told me so. But her mental acuity isn't exactly stellar, along with her physical health. Plus, this was at the beginning of COVID, so I wasn't about to jump on a plane. Until I got another email about a month ago. You guessed it, his alcohol induced early dementia self sent what money he had left to the scammers and he was about to be homeless...again. He wound up giving seven figures to scammers!!!

While the scammers had gotten slightly more sophisticated, they were still amateur hour. There was an investigator from Interpol on the case, Dustin Scott. However, our boy Dustin was also communicating via the same G email platform and writing using the exact same syntax / vocabulary as the other goat fuckers. Oh, and he was also receiving communication from Nuno Matos, the CEO of HSBC UK, you guessed it, same syntax and vocabulary. Numbnuts sent a statement showing the balance in my father's . Except any moron could look at the document and immediately tell it was bullshit. No bank, outside of perhaps some third world country, puts the CEO's picture on statements. Even more so, they don't spell his name wrong on said statement.

So, I jumped on a plane and did what I needed to do. This may sound callous, but fuck my father. His dementia is the result of his unwillingness to quit drinking. I rode him pretty hard, asking him repeatedly in what universe did he think he was going to get his money back by sending them more money. Going through the communication, the goat fuckers were even trolling him. One piece of comms from HSBC came from Lisa Simpson. Oh, they also threw a woman into the mix, who he sent $30k for a diamond ring because he said he loved her. Worth noting was that her picture was essentially a stock photo of a bimbo. Now, this is a sensitive topic for me, because a few years ago, my father drunkenly admitted to having a ten year affair with a family friend. So, my father is essentially a scumbag, on top of a drunken moron. You may sense some displeasure with this situation on my part. Well, there's a fuck ton of it. And sympathy is reserved for those who get scammed and neither lie to me nor attempt to cheat on my mother.

I'll conclude Part 1 with the life lesson, which is if you suspect one of your family members of dementia, take action. I should have taken over the finances after the first three quarter of a mill, but a) I figured the fuck tard had learned his lesson and b) he would have fought me tooth and nail.

It's a lovely fucking life, isn't it?
A Little Bit Of Wireless Sunshine
Posted:Aug 26, 2020 6:52 pm
Last Updated:Aug 27, 2020 10:14 am

See below for actual entry.
Plenty of Shit Innovates
Posted:Jul 15, 2020 4:29 pm
Last Updated:Jul 16, 2020 10:38 am

The website has been a previous target of my ire and continues to innovate in ways to raise it. If I've not previously mentioned it, I was finally able to create an account on the site and not have it deleted fifteen minutes later. Like other free dating sites, there's now a premium service option, where you pay and receive some sort of benefits. No clue what they are, since communicating is still free and I don't care enough to investigate. As usual, I have an opinion and that is those who pay for a free dating site are ripe targets for fleecing.

One of the new features available to both the fleeced or unfleeced, is the option to check a box that prevents the unfleeced from contacting you. The site attempts to convince you that they're more serious about finding a partner. My position is do you really want to date someone who's dim enough to pay for a free site? And besides, am I really going to pay for a service in the hopes the one person I'm interested will even respond? Nah. In any case, I've run across a few who've not unchecked the box and pass them by. No one's been that irresistible. That's where the site shows how slimy it's become.

Like every dating site, there's some way to 'like' another user. You'll receive a little notification someone liked you and they show up in your matches. Until I hid my profile, I was receiving a growing number of likes from really beautiful women. I'd click on them and immediately got the pop up saying this member only receives messages from those who've been properly fleeced. Hmm...something's not quite kosher, but I can't put my finger on it. LOL

I'm sure you can fill in the blanks from there.

On a semi-related note, Okey Cupie has updated their site / app again and achieved the pinnacle of making it completely unusable. No longer can you just do a basic search for people in your area, within an age range. You're forced to search by interests or some shit. Oh, and of course, they want to fleece you as well. Not surprising, considering they're both owned by the same company.

Of course, at this point in time, fleeced or unfleeced, ain't no one worth the risk of infection.

And that's the dating scene in 2020.
Homemade is Always Better
Posted:Jul 15, 2020 4:11 pm
Last Updated:Dec 12, 2020 4:40 pm

I'm sure many of you have been riveted, awaiting my assessment of the silencer I bought and recently came be in my possession. It was a bit of a let down, honestly. I bought it before I knew a whole lot about suppression and it wasn't exactly the best choice I could have made.

How did it stack up the silencers I've built, myself? After doing heads up testing against the three cans I've built, I can honestly say that two of my three beat the commercial unit handily. The third is too close to tell. Mine are all lighter, as well, since they're either partially or entirely titanium.

So, there's your range report for mid-July.
Be Very Very Quiet
Posted:Jul 7, 2020 4:40 pm
Last Updated:Dec 12, 2020 4:40 pm

This entry has zero to do with dating or sex, but it's cool stuff and keeping my shelter in place mind off of dating, sex, and my hatred of the Midwest. Also, per typical Senior Sizzle, words will be removed for no reason, so give me some credit for being coherent.

I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice to say one of my work friends is an evil enabler, when it comes to things that go bang. My current stop on the train to a permanent spot on the government's watch list is Silencer City.

Late last year, I purchased my first silencer. Cool, right? For a gun guy it is, so humor me. What's not so cool is I still can't take it home. You see, once you've purchased and paid for your adorable tube of quiet, the ATF must still approve that purchase, so, your little black cylinder of joy sits 'in jail' until the that happens, which can be up to a year. I'm at 188 days, not that I'm keeping track. I own the silencer and can use it at my dealer's shooting range; I just can't take it home. Shortly after my second conjugal visit, I discovered that you can legally build your own silencer. The best part is that the associated ATF approval for that only takes about 30 days. Well, why didn't you tell me!?

You may be thinking you need your own machine shop to fabricate one of these little gems, but it's amazingly simple. There are devices called solvent traps, which are tubes that screw onto the end of your barrel during cleaning, and are designed to catch excess solvent and cleaning patches. They have little dividers and chambers to maximize the amount of material they can hold. But when you drill a hole through the center of the solvent trap and through the dividers, it becomes a silencer. There's quite a bit more to it than that, but nothing that can't be done with a drill press and a Dremel. And like most hobbies, there's a very active online community that you can lean on for advice.

So, off I went. So far, I've designed and built three silencers, and am waiting on ATF approval for one final can. God bless the ATF. Each and every silencer application, officially known as a Form 1, requires a background check, submitting two sets of finger prints, and a $200 tribute to the crown. Once approved, you receive a tax stamp (it literally is a stamp) for the silencer you want to build. With that in hand (or in your email), it's time to break out the tools. Should you drill prior to receiving your stamp, you are committing a felony.

The best part is that if you've done your homework, you'll wind up with a can that outperforms ones you can buy off the shelf. That is, if you design for a particular application. For example, my first silencer was designed to be used solely for subsonic 300 Blackout, and it's damned good. The loudest thing you hear is the rifle's bolt cycling.

And now, the Q&A:

Do silencers really work as well as in the movies? In a word, No. A silencer will decrease the level of sound created by a gun shot, but it won't eliminate it. This is particularly true with higher powered rounds, which still require hearing protection, while using a silencer. Plus, there's the noise of the gun cycling, as I mentioned. One of the folks I know measured the sound of a bolt cycling at 112 decibels; about as loud as a jackhammer, which is not quiet.

Why would you need a silencer? I'll admit my primary reason for wanting to own a silencer is because it's fucking cool (for a shooting enthusiast). I'd be lying through my teeth if I claimed to not to have felt a little James Bond ish, when I threaded a silencer onto a gun, the first few times. There are also legit benefits to using these devices. If, heaven forbid, you have to use your gun to defend your home against an intruder, you either suffer permanent hearing loss or use a silencer. They also protect your hearing, when shooting at the range. High power rifles are really loud, so hearing protection can only do so much; I had a mild ringing in my right ear after a recent session. A silencer attenuates the sound enough to make them safer; you'll still want to wear hearing protection, though.

Why would I want to build a own silencer? Because You.Can.Build.Your.Own.Silencer. Plus, as I mentioned above, you can frequently achieve better results versus commercial offerings. They're lighter, too, because we tend to build everything out of titanium. It may seem unusual, but some people make a hobby out of it.

Once I finish my last suppressor, I'll be departing Silencer City. It's been a fun hobby, but it's not inexpensive. The can I mentioned above cost me $640, not including the $200 tax stamp.

And under the heading of fortuitous timing, I just received a call that the stamp for the silencer in jail just arrived. Off to claim it as mine.
Senior Sizzle Blogs - Worse than Trump
Posted:May 13, 2020 2:40 pm
Last Updated:Jun 11, 2021 2:27 pm

Rant - I copy paste my blog entries from my real blog, which is what I did with my most recent one. When I went reread it later, I discovered the word '' had been removed from the first half of the entry.

I think I'm entitled ask 'what the ever loving fuck????' If there are actual mods this thing, they're most certainly victims of horrendous brain trauma, sitting in their own feces.

Let's see how long it takes for this get pulled.

, Motherfucker!
When This Is Over...When Is This Over?
Posted:May 13, 2020 12:30 pm
Last Updated:Jun 5, 2020 10:20 am

The pandemic has caused us behave in a way that's so atypical for most people. Everyone wants this to be over, obviously to end the suffering and death, but also to get the hell out of their houses. Most everyone longs to break from the confines of their homes and interact with friends, family, lovers, and so on.

I've read and heard so many sentiments, from people, regarding what they're going do when this is over. Road trip, begin dating, have sex with whomever I want, pursue a life long love of curling, raise pangolins in the Belgian Congo. The list goes on.

But when is this over? When do you emerge from your bunker and resume life?

If you're waiting for someone broadcast an ALL CLEAR, you'll be waiting for some time. That will take an effective vaccine to be developed and distributed, which is at least a year out. Until then, you can count the sociopath in chief to bungle the response, with the infections and deaths flowing from peak to peak. He'll likely screw the pooch getting a vaccine to the populous, as well.

Countries with competent leaders thought they'd contained the virus and allowed a slow reopening, only to have to shut things back down, when the number of cases began to surge again.

And the virus has become a nasty fucker, killing people without them exhibiting symptoms and attacking beyond the respiratory system.

So, when is it over for you? At what point will you attempt to resume some sort of normal life?

Is your decision tied to an infection or death rate dropping to a certain level? Perhaps, it's a mental barrier, where you say 'fuck it, those fucking pangolins are calling!'

Personally, I'm nowhere near that point and won't be any time soon. And I truly feel for those who's lives have been upended and lost their incomes. My stylist texted me yesterday, telling me her salon was reopening and could she book an appointment for me on the 24th. Hell no. I told her I'd for an appointment, but not show.

So when is it really over for you?
Fuck Me Harder!!...And We'll Put In a Happy Little Tree Over Here
Posted:Apr 30, 2020 6:44 pm
Last Updated:May 1, 2020 12:23 pm

In trading notes with the remaining ex, who recently resurfaced, she reminded me of one of the most amusing moments we had in bed.

It was a Saturday afternoon and we were relaxing to an episode of Bob Ross. We apparently began to feel frisky and after pausing Bob, we found ourselves in the heat of passion in my bedroom. I had a first floor master, so the living room was just outside the master bedroom. Anyway, as I'm thrusting deep inside her, her nearing her next orgasm, Bob Ross begins to talk about putting in happy little trees. The DVR I had would only pause for 20 minutes, then resume playing.

I rolled off of her, both of us laughing hysterically about our sexplay being interrupted by Bob Ross. Needless to say, I went out and properly shut Bob down, before returning to complete my mission.
A Herd of Exes
Posted:Apr 28, 2020 6:23 pm
Last Updated:Apr 29, 2020 3:17 pm

At some point, over the past few weeks of lock down, I recall seeing something on social media on a trend of people reaching out to reconnect with their exes. I quickly dismissed it, because it's just not something I would do. That's not to say I wouldn't like to reconnect. With the exception of those like the thing that wouldn't leave and borderline ex-wife, I still respect the hell out of most of those I've been intimate with. Unfortunately, these are also the women who I was unable to give them what they wanted from me. Trust me, I miss interacting with a few of my previous partners and had tamped impulses to reach out, before the quarantine. But the last thing I want to do is dredge up feelings they've hopefully put in their little boxes. Causing others pain because of my own selfish motives isn't something I can allow myself to do. I just wish that someone would tell the ones I miss about the selfish thing.

This evening marks the third woman, who lives on the above list, to reach out. Two immediately ghosted me, one remains present and in communication.

How many exes have you reconnected with, during the lockdown?

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