For some time now, I have endeavoured to operate a Twitter account, through which I share late-night wisdom, feelings about various idiots, and retweets of pictures of goats I like. This enterprise has earned me tens of followers, a good one-hundred-fifty of which are, I am convinced, actual persons.
Once upon a time, I bought this domain name with the idea to produce daily content related to foot ball and associated topics. I would, I thought to myself, set aside a time daily to read, research, and opine on such. I poured A Whiskey to begin my first post, and I posted. And then I did that about 7 more times and forgot about it.
But here I am again, vigour renewed, to breathe new life into this void through posts regarding whatever I happen to care about today. Foot ball may be mentioned. Real foot ball may be mentioned more. Food and drink more still. Places I go and have been. Places I want to go. Particularities I have observed. Bears I have met.
I am a 146 year old football coach. I reside in Alabama, in a house, with Mrs. Beaumont. My interests are American kick ball, foot ball, beverages served at base ball games, going to places I do not live, and restaurants where your uncle says the food is overpriced and underserved.
Boredom and ego.
This seems pointless.
Grease erodes your Arbys bag. It rips. curly fries litterr the sidewalk. kneel & greedily devour them, ignoring passersby. Arbys: no dignity
— Nihilist Arby's (@nihilist_arbys) April 9, 2015
You seem a bit cranky.
I’ve had some drinks.