These Guys Are Not F***ing Around!

 

Mongo wants to go on record, in case the Annunaki come back before July, and state that Jonas Vingegaard will have nobody to blame but himself if he doesn't win the 2025 Tour de France.

Team Visa-Bike Rental-Illuminati is loaded to the gills with the best Grand Tour support talent in the peloton. Multiple winners, up and coming studs, solid domestiques, Ron Jeremy...and of course, Wout Van Aert. 

Everyone has their own strengths, but all of them can climb like a squirrel with a finger up its butt. It's almost as if they were hand picked in a money is no object approach by the team with the biggest budget.

MONGODAMUS is predicting... today... that Jonas Vingegaard will win the 2025 Tour de France.

Book it like a Viking Cruise!

Check Your Head

 

Mongo was sitting around the other day bemoaning my situation. What my situation was, was being snowbound for approximately thirty six hours in my home in an undisclosed southern state as an Arctic Polar, Nino, Vortex brought the icy tears of Winter. It turned out okay for Mongo because I prepared ahead of time and thankfully had enough milk, bread, eggs and plywood.

Anyway, after sitting around for a while and doing the rounds of my usual websites, I decided to move on from the porn and think about my blog... Why am I still doing this? What is my motivation? Is there any cohesive theme? Has it become boring? Do I Care? Does anyone care? Should I care that no one cares? What's with all the depressing and self-important shit? Has this blog just become my therapist?

My former life partner and best buddy, Snacks McGee, used to be all the therapy Mongo needed, but since he moved upstate after eighteen glorious years I have turned to my once lighthearted and witty blog into my personal ayahuasca trip of self reflection while balancing the perceptions of my external and internal worth. (54 word sentence, btw) That shit get's tired and old if not doled out in moderation. Both for the writer and the reader. So...here's the deal.

Mongo, from this day forward, will not purposefully post half-ass shit and keep the boo-hoo personal stuff to a minimum. Let's see where this trip takes us.

Let This Sink In

 

Melancholy Baby: Haiku

A crack in the door

Moments of regret seep through

A life left behind

The Wind And The Rain Billow Me

Three Hundred And Two Months Later

 

In The Night We'll Sit For A While

Shady's Back

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