Well, regular readers know how I roll through my Sunday routines, but things change occasionally, even if it’s not much of a change. Sweet stroll, floating bar, John’s place, Red Bar, Jumpin’ Jacks. What’s new and what’s missing? Read on!

As seen on the Sunday Sweets Stroll:

So, no Hideaway feeding, but in its place:

On to dinner at John’s place. I have to wonder if this was the last one. No wine for Swan, and many more items on the menu that are no longer available. It seems like they are intentionally not restocking food supplies and are trying to sell out as much as possible before closing. I hope I’m wrong about that, but I don’t think so. Still, if you are losing money, you don’t have much choice but to close it down. It’s just not the same without John there.

A visit to Red Bar after dinner, and then a nightcap at Jumpin’ Jacks brought the evening to a close.

We did stop at the print shop on the way home to get a copy of my Vietnam visa.

(deleted visa photo for privacy purposes)

The trike made it to the house without incident this time.

It’s the last day of July 2016 in the LTG archives. I gotta say, this journey through the past has been heartrending lately. Back in the states, my kids were selling the contents of my house for me, almost as if I had died. And in a way, I did. One life ending and another yet to begin. But I made it through the storm.

Today’s YouTube video discusses ten things you don’t want to carry when you travel. I watched it just to make sure I’m up to speed for my upcoming trip to Vietnam. I recall the first time I visited Thailand, I was still into vaping and carried several e-cig pens with me. Somehow, I made it through customs without incident. Later, I was standing on a street in Bangkok waiting for the light to change and puffing away. A foreigner came up to me and said, “Dude, vaping is illegal in Thailand. The police will arrest you for that!” Damn, guess I got lucky.

Let me wipe that smile off your face:

And now it is time to prepare for another Hash Monday.

Back tomorrow with a full report.

When the winter rains
Come pourin' down
On that new home of mine,
Will you think of me
and wonder if I'm fine?
Will your restless heart
Come back to mine
On a journey through the past.
Will I still be in your eyes
And on your mind?

Still plodding along on this road we call life. Yesterday morning we did our first Decay Dance (candy walk) in a couple of weeks. The break made revisiting the familiar path a little more refreshing than usual. But we did see some new things along the way that were not so pleasant.

Our evening on the town started with some liquid refreshments at It Doesn’t Matter—the usual laid-back atmosphere, sitting on the patio and watching the world go by. Trikes are part of the lifestyle here, like them or not. Some folks even name their trikes. Like this one:

When the hunger pangs hit, we moseyed up the highway to Jewel Cafe for our usual treats.

Overall, a disappointing dining experience this time.

We crossed the highway rife with weekend traffic and did our nightcap at Cheap Charlies. Other than them being out of Zero beer (as are most of the bars in town), things went fine. Enjoyed watching the street scenes down below from our third-floor vantage point and then grabbed a trike for the ride home.

Nothing like a bit of excitement at the end of the day.

Here’s how I exploded some lefty heads on Facebook today:

From the July 2016 LTG archives is another post about my comings and goings in the being single in Seoul chapter of my life. I tried to make the best of it, despite the aching in my heart.

For today’s YouTube video, we visit a Filipina vlogger who shares her thoughts on why there has been a dearth of tourists in the Philippines lately. According to her, it is mainly about a lack of value for the money. I agree that’s a big part of it.

How about some humor?

I hope I didn’t duplicate any memes today, but if I did, how much worse can it be than the first time you saw it? When your memory fades, everything old is suddenly new again!

Well, my definition of “fun” may differ from yours, but at least I’m easy to please. I woke up to a rainy morning, but that wasn’t going to stop me from making my first hike of the new year.

I had some business to attend to early in the afternoon: the annual Hash leadership meeting. All current officers were re-elected, the Hash made money last year, so there is no need to raise the fees, and we voted to allow drinking to begin at 3 p.m. instead of the current 3:30.

When the meeting concluded, I headed to Alley Cats bar and had some beers while I awaited Swan’s arrival. I didn’t make any formal New Year’s resolutions, but I do plan to buy a new set of darts and take up the game again. I won’t be a fanatic like I was in the old days, but playing in a tourney or two each week would be a nice addition to my other routines.

Swan arrived, had a glass of wine, and then we crossed the highway for dinner at Mango’s.

After our meal, we moved on to Gold Bar, one of the newer venues in town.

Some beer, wine, and a lady drink later, we moved down the road to Queen Victoria for our nightcap.

As days go, it wasn’t a bad one.

On to July 2016 in the LTG archives. In this post, I came to terms with where I was in life and also accepted the me I was. Looking back on it now, it was an acknowledgement that the life I had lived before was over, and the future life was up to me to build. And here I am.

Let’s check in with the Filipina Pea for today’s YouTube video. Pea shares twelve unique aspects of Filipino culture, although I hadn’t caught on to most of them even after all these years.

Hold on to your hat, because here they come:

That’s all I’ve got for today.

Or should I say, the best day so far this year? Honestly speaking, it wasn’t that great. The lingering effects from the late-night celebration to welcome the new year kept me housebound for most of the day. But when the clock struck beer o’clock, I dragged my sorry ass into town for the first time all year. I had initially thought I’d grab a stool at Cheap Charlies, but they were closed, as were several other drinking establishments. Sloppy Joe’s, a 24/7 operation, was open and waiting for me, thereby earning my patronage.

Swan had spent the day at the family compound in Subic, so I was drinking alone. Swan messaged that she would join me at Sloppy Joe’s around 6 pm. I was surprised when a trike pulled up out front and dropped Swan and three of her Hashmates off. Swan had joined them for some New Year’s Day revelry and invited them along so they could play pool. I’d had about enough of Sloppy by then, so we moved the party next door to Green Room.

I enjoyed watching Honey and Grace play pool; they are both excellent players. The gals were in party mode, and I didn’t want to be that old guy who spoils the fun, so I sat at my own table and sipped some San Miguel Light beers (yep, the bars are running out of Zero again). Still, all good things must end, and I pulled the plug around 8:30.

And that’s how the first day of the new year went down. I’m sure they’ll get better.

Some good chatter in the comments section about why tourism is down in the Philippines. This post from the June 2016 LTG archives shares my tourist experience in Manila when taking a taxi to the airport. These days, most folks use the Grab app to arrange transport, which is a good way to beat the taxi scammers.

On one of the internet forums I frequent, I came across this thorough post describing what’s wrong with tourism in the Philippines. It’s worth a read if you are interested in this subject.

Today’s YouTube video provides an update on Vitaly, that asshole vlogger who got arrested last year for harassing Filipinos to make content for his asshole vlog. It seems he’s not doing well in jail and the prospects of him getting out any time soon are slim to none. Being locked up in a Filipino jail is my worst nightmare and would be tantamount to a death sentence for me (you have to wait years for a trial date). It’s hard to feel sorry for a dick like Vitaly, but I do have empathy for what he is going through, even it is well-deserved.

Let’s clean the palate with some alleged humor:

Time to get on with whatever the future has in store for me. Thanks for coming by.

Out with the old and in with the new. I said goodbye to 2025 with a nice morning hike to the seldom-visited Tibag community. And then I attended the New Year’s Eve gathering in the penthouse suite at the Rooftop Hotel. All my contributions (chili, cornbread muffins, brownies) seemed to be enjoyed, judging by the fact that there were no leftovers.

The party started at 4 pm, and I was the first to arrive. The only time I see midnight these days is when I get up to pee, so I wasn’t expecting to be around when the new year arrived. Another complicating factor was that there was no Zero beer available, so I was drinking the more powerful San Miguel Light. I limited myself to one bottle every thirty minutes, and that seemed to help keep me standing. And lo and behold, I was still on the rooftop when the fireworks started exploding over the bay. Yep, 2026 began with a miracle!

Here’s the day in pictures:

And then it was time to party! Tim spends six weeks a year in the Philippines (Pennsylvania is his home) and always rents the penthouse at the Rooftop Hotel. It is by far the biggest and nicest hotel room I’ve ever seen, more like a fancy apartment with three bedrooms, three baths, and a large, fully equipped kitchen. I understand that it was once the residence of the hotel owner. It’s on the top floor of the hotel, and the views are quite nice.

Time passed, and then this happened:

And then I was done.

A nice way to end the year. Let’s see what the new one brings.

From the June 2016 LTG archives, I found myself unexpectedly in Manila for the weekend. I was coming home from a trip to Cebu and missed my connecting flight to Incheon. The airline couldn’t get me on another flight for two days, but they put me up in a decent hotel, and I got to do some exploring. I was still thinking of the Philippines as a potential retirement destination, but after this trip, I knew it wouldn’t be in Manila.

Today’s YouTube video is a short (4-minute) account of how the vlogger transitioned from being a visitor in the Philippines to it feeling like home. I’m approaching eight years here now, and I’ve still got only one foot firmly planted here. I just can’t seem to accept some of this culture’s norms, like noise and litter.

Let’s start the new year with a smile or three:

I’ve been a lazy shit and haven’t left the house all year so far. I’ll take a nap and see if I feel like going out later. Staying up until midnight kicked my ass.

Let me begin this post with an apology. Some readers have complained in the comments about being redirected to another website while trying to log on here at LTG. I contacted my blog host this morning in an effort to find out what the fuck is up with that. After jumping the usual hurdles, I was eventually connected with a human being. I explained the problem, and he came back with something about my storage disk being near capacity, along with a sales pitch to upgrade for additional space. I asked what that had to do with my readers being redirected, and he told me that, with my nearly full storage, there was insufficient space for SiteLock to search for and remove the problematic malware properly. He told me all my problems would go away if I added space on the disk for “only” $500 for two years. Having no other viable options, I consented.

Thank you for your patience today while we addressed the security concerns regarding your blog, mccrarey.com.

I am writing to confirm that we have successfully upgraded your account to the Pro 200 Plan. As we discussed, this provides the 200 GB of disk space necessary to bypass the storage limits that were hindering our security tools. With this “breathing room” now available, I have officially escalated Case #03872324 to our specialized SiteLock team.

Our security experts are now performing a deep-level manual scrub of your files and database to identify and remove the malicious scripts causing those gambling redirects.

Hopefully, I didn’t just get scammed.

Alright, then. Here’s what I remember about Tuesday. It’s my shopping day, and one of the morning routines I engage in is baking some breakfast muffins. I share them with my support team (Swan, our helper, the driver, and street urchin “Mama” when we see her). For whatever reason, I spaced out doing the baking until it was too late to complete the task prior to departure. Oh well, shit happens.

So, we were well on our way down the highway (like twenty minutes) when it suddenly dawned on me that I had forgotten to put my credit card in my wallet. Shit, I had no other way to pay for the groceries, so there was no alternative but to turn around and go fetch the card. My driver shrugged it off, but I wasn’t happy about this latest brain fart. I guess that’s just part of life in the 70s. At least I didn’t have a cart full of groceries at the checkout when I remembered I’d forgotten my card.

Other than the chocolate candies we give the kids still being out of stock, the shopping went fine. I was feeling lazy, so I skipped my usual neighborhood walk. Then I spent hours on a picture-filled post about the Sampaloc Cove Hash outing that didn’t generate the interest I expected. That’s okay, it is what it is.

It being Tuesday, next on the agenda was our regular weekly outing to Baloy Beach.

A bit later, we headed ashore for dinner at Treasure Island.

Home by our usual 8 pm and in bed shortly thereafter. My weary brain needs its rest.

From the June 2016 LTG archives is a post where I write about a writer who writes about Thailand. I hadn’t been there yet, but I found some of his stories on a Thailand-based website I followed (sorry, the links to those stories no longer work). Steve Rosse and I briefly became Facebook friends, and I purchased some of his books. Why aren’t we friends any longer? Welp, once Steve discovered I didn’t adhere to the leftist dogma, he blocked me. Stephen King is another good writer, but just as indoctrinated.

Today’s YouTube video is about a Brit who wound up homeless in the Philippines. I can’t believe people come to a third-world country and fuck it up for themselves, but it happens more often than it should.

Humor me:

And on that note, the final post of the year is nearly complete. I’ll be celebrating New Year’s Eve at Tim’s hotel (he’s Scott’s brother and visiting from the USA). I’ve got a crockpot full of chili to share. Also, some brownies in the oven, and if I don’t forget to bake them, a batch of cornbread muffins. I don’t expect I’ll be awake to see the new year arrive (the party starts at 4 pm), but you never know. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow.

Anyway, here’s a short recounting of my Saturday, um, as the crow flies dies.

We didn’t have any chocolates to dispense because ALL the stores (we visited several) are sold out. So, no candy bags but a few odds and ends to hand out. Not enough for the regular Decay Dance, so we just did an abbreviated walkabout.

It Doesn’t Matter Bar was having its end-of-year party at McCoy’s on Baloy Beach. We dropped by, but things were already well underway; there was nowhere to sit, and no more Zero or Light beers. That’s what happens when you arrive late. I dropped off the sweets (muffins and lollipops) I’d brought, then headed up the beach for Treasure Island.

Neighbors Jeff and Davina were having a family outing at Treasure Island, and several others had joined in the fun, so we did too.

It was well after dark when home beckoned. When I got my tab, it said I had drunk 14 San Miguel Zeros. I’m not sure that was right, but I was in no position to argue about it, so I paid. And just to be clear, I was on my feet and doing fine. We even had to walk a bit before finding a trike. Back at the house, I put some yogurt on a brownie for dessert, played some solitaire on the laptop, and had no trouble once I hit the sack.

I had a weird dream (aren’t they all?) just before waking up, that I actually remember. The details are fuzzy, but basically, it involved a transgender man being ridiculed by a group of individuals in a public setting. I defended the tranny by shouting out that he has the right to live as he chooses (notably, I did not do that pronoun thing). When I thought about the dream, it was not inconsistent with my usual modus operandi. The tranny wasn’t invading any female spaces (which I vehemently oppose) or engaging in any other untoward behavior. So, live and let live is fine by me, unless and until you cross the line and let your insanity impact others around you. Anyway, it was a weird thing to dream about.

Facebook memories took me back to this day in 2017. I was visiting the Philippines, and a Manila gal I’d been chatting with for a while met me at the airport when I landed.

It’s still May 2016 in the LTG archives, and in this post, I write about closing more doors as I worked to escape the trauma of my broken marriage. It only hurts until the pain goes away.

For today’s YouTube video, I share some of this vlogger’s perspectives on what a bad day really looks like. I noted that he took some heat in the comments for parts of his commentary and video structure (like that gal on the balcony who didn’t encounter any disasters other than being clickbait). Still, I was there for the action shots of destruction and wasn’t disappointed.

You gotta laugh, or at least try and smile:

Whatever it means, I’m outta here for now. Rumor has it that the Arizona floating bar is back in operation, so I’ll be checking that out. According to their Facebook page, John’s place will be open today, so we’ll be dining there. And then we shall see what happens.

At least until next year.

So, the last Friday of 2025 started with the group hike.

Since it was only Scott and me, and Scott had his car, we took a drive to the seldom-visited countryside out Mangan-Vacca way and commenced our hike. Scott reminded me that our last time out here was in April, that we’d gotten lost, and he had nearly collapsed from exhaustion and dehydration. He’s not sure if that incident triggered his stroke a week later, but the memories are intertwined.

After that pleasant start to the day, when beer o’clock rolled around, Swan was hungry, so we headed for Jewel Cafe. Upon arrival, there was a sign on the door saying that, due to unforeseen circumstances, they would be closed until Saturday. I suggested Myleen’s as an alternative, but as we walked past It Doesn’t Matter, we decided we could eat and drink there. Talk about killing two birds with one stone! The food was good, and the beer was cold, so that was a win.

I suggested Cheap Charlies for our nightcap, but we could see from the street that it was crowded upstairs, so we kept walking to Wet Spot. Met an interesting expat who lives in San Antonio, and we had an enjoyable chat. It seems he’s become disillusioned with the Philippines after many years here and is planning his escape, with Vietnam being his first choice. He hadn’t heard about Dave Fisher’s passing, so I had to share that sad news with him. Anyway, it was a nice night out on the town.

Still plowing through the May 2016 LTG archives, and came upon the sad post about my dear friend Bridget Werner’s passing. She was one of the most unique personalities I’ve encountered over the course of my life, and I still miss her wit and wisdom. What the balls, Bridget! You left us way too soon.

I don’t usually read posts from people I don’t know on Facebook, but for some reason I read this long-ass thing today, and it resonated. It ends with these words:

Don’t wait for someone to make room for you where you don’t belong. The map is wide. The road is long. And the best seat in the house is wherever you decide to stop.

I’ll paste the rest at the end of this post. You can read it or not there at your leisure.

I also came across this article, which says that any amount of marijuana use is bad for teenagers. Well, I smoked pot regularly from age fifteen until my twenties. That may explain a lot, like my inability to use proper grammar. Heh, that reminds me of the time in high school when I went to my English class after smoking a joint at lunchtime. We had to write an essay in the classroom that day, so I wrote about having to write an essay while stoned. To her credit, the teacher recognized me for my honesty, and I got a passing grade. Ah, life is full of memories up until the time you forget them.

Today’s YouTube video reveals the disgusting things going on inside your body while you sleep. I found it interesting; you may too. I feel kind of bad for all the interruptions I cause when I get up to pee every hour or so.

On to what I claim is humor:

And now it is onward to whatever adventure the rest of Saturday holds in store for me.

Here’s that Facebook post I mentioned above:

I was erased from my daughter’s life with a phone call that lasted less than thirty seconds.

I stood in my driveway, November wind cutting through my jacket, fingers stiff around a cooler packed with homemade smoked venison jerky. Two days before Thanksgiving. Behind me sat The Beast—my restored 1978 emerald-green pickup, polished for months until the chrome reflected the sky. I’d planned to drive seven hundred miles to Chicago.

Barnaby, my twelve-year-old Blue Tick Coonhound, was already buckled into the passenger seat, his red holiday bandana tied just right. His tail thumped happily. He knew the cooler meant one thing.

We were going to see The Girl.

Then my phone buzzed.

“Dad,” Emily said. Her voice wasn’t warm. It was tight, rushed, layered with the clatter of keyboards behind her. “Plans changed. Mark’s CEO is coming for dinner. It’s… important. A big networking thing.”

My hand froze on the icy door handle.

“That’s okay,” I said gently. “I packed my navy suit—the one from your graduation.”

“No, Dad—listen,” she interrupted quickly, as if speeding through it would dull the impact. “It’s crowded. And the new house has white wool carpets. Very… intentional. With Barnaby, and your stories—you know how loud they get—it might be better if you stayed at a hotel this time. And maybe boarded Barnaby? There’s a kennel off the interstate.”

The silence between us roared louder than the wind.

She wasn’t just asking me to stay elsewhere. She was editing her life for an audience—and I didn’t fit the aesthetic. The grease permanently etched into my hands. The old truck that smelled like pine and fuel. The hound who snored like a freight train.

We were clutter.

“Don’t worry about it, Em,” I said, keeping my voice steady while something caved in behind my ribs. “I actually forgot—I’ve got a tractor transmission to fix here. Probably shouldn’t leave town anyway. You all have a wonderful night.”

“Oh.” She sounded relieved. That hurt the most. “Okay. That works. We’ll FaceTime. Love you, Dad.”

The call ended.

Barnaby let out a low, mournful howl and rested his chin on the dashboard. He didn’t know the words—but he understood.

“Well, buddy,” I said, climbing into the cab and slamming the heavy door shut. “Looks like Chicago’s off the list.”

I sat there, engine idling, staring at the GPS on my phone.

Six hours, forty-two minutes. Blue line. Efficient. Sterile.

I reached into the glove box and pulled out something I hadn’t used in years—a battered paper road atlas. Its edges were soft as cloth. I opened it, breathing in the scent of ink and old paper.

“You know what?” I traced a line west with my thumb. Away from snow. Away from white carpets. Away from shrinking myself. “Let’s go see that big hole in the ground Mom always wanted to see.”

I tossed my phone face-down and shifted into gear.

We avoided interstates where everyone drives like they’re being chased. We took back roads—two-lane highways curling through towns with named water towers and people who still wave at strangers.

We ate at roadside diners where the menus were sticky and the waitresses called you “Sugar” without irony. I shared my hash browns with Barnaby. Nobody minded. In Missouri, a tattooed kid admired the truck and asked about carburetors. We talked for an hour. No screens. Just people.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel outdated.

I felt alive.

Late on the second day, near the edge of New Mexico, the weather turned. Rain and sleet slicked the road. The sky bruised purple and black.

That’s when I saw them—a modern sedan on the shoulder, hazards blinking weakly. Miles from anywhere.

I pulled over.

A young woman stood shivering beside the car. A little girl pressed her tear-streaked face to the window.

“No service,” the woman said, panicked. “The GPS sent us this way. The car just died. We’re trying to get to Phoenix.”

I nodded. “Pop the hood.”

Plastic everywhere. Computers and covers. But an engine is still an engine. I spotted it fast—a snapped belt.

“I can fix it,” I said.

I didn’t have the right part—but I had ingenuity, duct tape, and time.

“Barnaby,” I said. “Light.”

The old dog trotted over and held the flashlight in his mouth, perfectly still, tail thumping softly.

When the engine came back to life, the woman cried. Tried to hand me money.

“Buy her hot chocolate,” I said. “Stick to the main road.”

She took a photo—me, grease-stained, Barnaby proud beside me—against the endless desert.

Thanksgiving night found us parked at the edge of Grand Canyon.

No fancy dinner. Something better.

A small fire. Beans warming. Jerky for Barnaby. Sage-scented air and ancient silence.

My phone buzzed. Emily.

I answered.

Behind her were suits, wine glasses, white carpets. Too bright. Too stiff.

I turned the camera.

The fire.

The truck.

Barnaby sleeping on a blanket.

Then the sky—stars spilling across the heavens like diamonds.

“I’m at the table,” I said quietly.

She stared. Then softened. “It’s beautiful, Dad. I… I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I said. “But we’re okay. We found our place.”

After the call, I leaned against the truck and watched the fire die down.

I realized I’d spent years waiting for permission to belong—trying to fit into a life that no longer fit me.

But you spend the first half of your life building a home for others.

The second half is learning that you are the home.

I didn’t need a chair in a room where I was afraid to spill something. I had the open road. I had the stars. I had the keys.

Don’t wait for someone to make room for you where you don’t belong.

The map is wide.

The road is long.

And the best seat in the house is wherever you decide to stop.

My neighbor Mike celebrated his 78th birthday yesterday and invited us to join in the celebration he hosted. I understand some Hispanic guy named Jesus also had a birthday on the 25th, although he’s quite a bit older.

Mike’s an interesting guy. We grew up in the same town in Southern California, Westminster. We attended the same high school, but, since he was eight years older, we never met. Mike is also a Vietnam War veteran, and yesterday he shared a photo album of his two tours of duty on the battlefield. During that time, he earned two Purple Hearts and was awarded the Bronze Star for his bravery. After returning home and recovering from his wounds, Mike became a well-known music promoter and worked with numerous famous bands and musicians. He had some amazing photos from those days as well.

After he retired, he lived in Brazil for several years before settling here in the Philippines. And now he lives less than a block from my house. It is indeed a small world after all.

The party started at 2 pm, and folks started heading out around 4:30. But the fun wasn’t done, as some of us reconvened for a nightcap at Thumbstar Bar around 6 pm.

It was a good Mikesmas.

From the May 2016 LTG archives is a post about my attending the wedding of my friends Mat and Sohee.

Tellingly, the post included this:

I do admit that I’ve become somewhat cynical at weddings these days.  During the vows, I recalled similar words from my most recent soon-to-be ex-wife.  I muttered “promises, promises” under my breath…

Sadly, Mat and Sohee divorced a couple of years later. Subsequently, Sohee committed suicide.

Speaking of the not-yet-ex wife, she sent me a Christmas message saying she still thinks of me and is sorry for letting me go. Yeah, thanks for that. Ten years too late.

I also heard from my daughter and she sent me this:

Today’s YouTube video is another one of those warnings about retiring in the Philippines if you are not financially prepared to do so. Sadly, common sense isn’t too common these days.

And before I go:

Had enough? Me too!

We went all the way out to San Antonio for our Wednesday hike this morning and didn’t get back to Barretto until just now. And man, am I tired! Too tired to blog today, so consider that your Christmas gift. I’ll try to get you caught up on things from here tomorrow.

Just a song before I go:

Another day in the life is in the books, so why not on the blog? Don’t worry, there wasn’t much to it.

We did our weekly Decay Dance, passing out candy to the children of San Isidro. I only took one photo this time, but it captured the three things that make the Philippines so special:

Later in the day, as I made my way to the Hideaway feeding, I saw something that made me think of Kevin Kim’s love of abandoned gloves.

The feeding went as usual, with the gals’ hunger finally satiated.

Then it was time to meet up with Swan at John’s place for dinner. Swan was already there when I arrived. The cook came out to tell Swan that the birria meat was not available from the supplier, but she had held back enough for one more order in anticipation of Swan’s visit. She also revealed that John’s was going to be closing at the end of the year. We asked John’s daughter whether they would be open next Sunday, but she wasn’t sure. So, it may have been our final meal at John’s place last night.

I’m going to miss the dining experience at John’s place.

After our meal, we did the usual stops at Red Bar and Jumpin’ Jacks. Spread some Christmas joy (cash) to our waitress friends, which put smiles on their faces. Played a couple of games of pool and got my ass kicked, but it was nice to be participating rather than just observing. I’m planning to do more of that in the New Year.

From the April 2016 LTG archives is this remembrance of a bargirl in Itaewon who rejected me twice–ten years apart. The post title is “The more things change, the more they remain the same.” I had to smile at that because it took a long time for things to change, even after I moved to the Philippines. Although Filipinas are more receptive to old men than Korean gals seem to be. I recall feeling invisible once I turned 60.

Speaking of change, in today’s YouTube video, Reekay says money rules will be changing in 2026. I’m no expert, but my own transactions are limited and relatively simple. My pension goes into my USA bank account, and I withdraw cash from ATMs when I need it. I use wire services (Wise works well for me) to transfer funds to other accounts, like Swan and my landlord. Hopefully, I won’t have to adopt and adapt to new methods.

Humor time:

Today is the annual Hash Candy Walk. We’ll be traversing the streets of Barretto, handing out sweets to the kids we encounter. I’m technically one of the Hares, but there was no trail to mark. Pubic Head mapped out our route, and we’ll do a “follow the Santa” routine. I’ll let you know how that works out tomorrow.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I also found this Nancy Pelosi meme:

Speaking of feeding, we did our annual charity outreach event yesterday in the village of Mampueng, Barangay Old Cabalan, out in the wilds of Olongapo. Two hundred hungry families were provided with a bag of rice and other staples, as well as a meal of spaghetti and chicken. This is the third year I’ve helped sponsor this event, and it always feels good to spread some joy to those in need.

With the handouts taken care of, it was time for a hike. We hired a couple of locals as tour guides and headed out. None of us were feeling up to a 2-hour hike to the Mampueng Falls (one of the guides looked at me and said, “he’s too old”), but we still enjoyed a nice 3K walkabout.

Most of the group opted to stay at the river and set up camp; the remaining four of us marched on.

Made it back to our campsite, where the gals had grilled some sausages and other items were ready for lunchtime dining.

Back home, safe and sound, where I napped and blogged, then prepared myself for a Saturday evening in Barretto. Annex Bar to kick things off, then some dinner at Sit-n-Bull, and a nightcap at Gold Bar brought the day to an end. It was a good one.

In the April 2016 LTG archives is this post where I weigh in on my religious beliefs. I had stirred up some controversy at work when I wrote on the blog about Mohammad being a pedophile. What else do you call someone who marries a nine-year-old? It occurred to me that getting attacked for my opinion was tantamount to criticizing my religion. The same alleged offense for which I was being harassed. This post was intended to forthrightly declare that my religion requires me to be critical of other religions. I’m glad I didn’t have to sue anyone for religious discrimination.

For today’s YouTube video, let’s check in with a vlogger who thought buying into a beach bar would be a good idea. After losing 3.6 million pesos ($60,000), he realized it wasn’t a smart plan after all. I watched this because I’ve fantasized about opening a nice beach bar here in Barretto, but I know the dream would likely turn into a nightmare. Who needs the headache?

I don’t know, maybe someone will find these humorous:

Okay, time to get on with my Sunday routines.

Another busy day that has me running late, so let’s get to it. Not much to say about my yesterday, but it included a Naugsol valley circumnavigation and a Christmas party at my old dart bar hangout, Alley Cats.

Swan and I headed out to Alley Cats and arrived at 4:30. The place was packed, and we were lucky to grab two seats at the bar. Lots of warm greetings and many familiar faces from my dart-playing days made me feel right at home.

Sitting there soaking up the dart vibes made me miss my old hobby. The other night I dreamed about playing darts again. Perhaps the seed has been planted, because I’m thinking about buying a new set of arrows and getting back into the groove with some practice and an occasional tourney. I’m not going back to the five days a week mode, but once in a while, it might feel good again.

There was a tasty buffet dinner (I contributed some brownies) and a gift exchange. We brought presents for all the Alley Cats crewmembers and enjoyed the spirit of the season.

It was after eight, and the party was still in full swing when we departed for home. We had an early morning charity event to attend to today. I’ll share that adventure tomorrow.

Moving on to April 2016 in the LTG archives, I posted about my darting life in Itaewon, including this shellacking of an opponent named Ricky:

It was also the anniversary of my marriage to Jee Yeun. I sent her this message:

“Today is the anniversary of the promise you made and did not keep.”

She didn’t respond.

Over at the BigHominid blog, I’m the poster boy for bad habits. A then (8 years ago) versus now photo is the evidence. I came across another photo from my first year in the Philippines which shows just how much I’ve gained from living here:

A little late for me, but in today’s YouTube video, the Filipina Pea provides tips that will make your vacation in the Philippines a happy one.

On to the humor:

A motorcycle officer stopped a man who had run a red light.

The guy was a real jerk, yelling, “Why am I being harassed by the Gestapo?!”

The officer calmly explained the violation, but the man exploded into a tirade, insulting the officer’s ancestry and orientation in every way imaginable.

The officer stayed calm. When he finished writing the ticket, he scribbled “AH” in the corner and handed it over.

The man snapped, “What does AH mean?!”

The officer looked him straight in the eyes and said, “That’s so when we go to court, I’ll remember you were aggressive and hostile.” Then he walked away.

Because the man already had a terrible driving record and risked losing his license, he hired a hot-shot attorney. In court, the attorney asked: “Officer, is there any unusual marking on this citation?”

“Yes, sir. At the bottom there’s an underlined ‘AH.’”

“And what does ‘AH’ stand for?”

“Aggressive and hostile, sir.”

The attorney smirked. “Are you sure it doesn’t stand for A$$hole?”

The officer grinned. “Well, sir… you know your client better than I do.”

I had my share of run-ins with the law back in my younger driving days. One led to my arrest. I guess “fuck you, pig!” was a little over the top. Lesson learned.

That’s all I’ve got for today.

For I shall always let thee do,
   In generous love, just what I please.
Peace comes, and discord flies away,
   Love’s bright day follows hatred’s night;
For I am ready to admit
   That you are wrong and I am right.

I’m going to need to rush through today’s post as I’m a little behind schedule and have a Christmas party to attend to this afternoon. Two journeys to report on from yesterday: a morning walk with Swan to the Subic marketplace in search of chocolates. The 8K walk was successful, but the quest was unfulfilled. Later in the day, I hoofed it over to Cheap Charlies to quench my thirst and I’m happy to report that I was successful in that endeavor.

Oh, and it is envelope season. Folks who provide services, like trash collectors and subdivision security guards, leave envelopes in hopes you will fill them with holiday cheer.

Swan dictated that I enjoy some “me time,” so I was on my own for the beer o’clock activities, and I set about fulfilling her wishes. It’s been a while since I’ve documented an excursion, so I figured, why not share the joy with my reader(s)?

My Cheap Charlies views:

I had a nice chat with the bartender and apologized again for my boycott of lady drinks at Cheap Charlies. They raised the price to an inexplicable 250 pesos for a SINGLE LD, one of the most expensive in town. I’m not even a cheap Charlie, but I consider that price level a scam, and I won’t pay that amount as a matter of principle. The bartender said she understood, and they appreciated that I bought them food and treats during my visits. So, last night it was chicken wings, chicken fingers, and lumpia from Foodies downstairs, each item priced nearly the same as an f’n lady drink.

I did my nightcap at Green Room for some of the same old, same old, which is still enjoyable for me. And that’s how I spent my Thursday.

At the end of March 2016, in the LTG archives, I was going strong in Itaewon. For all the feedback on my current beer-drinking lifestyle, it is only a shadow of what it used to be.

Today’s YouTube video asks: If you could choose immortality, would you? The first thing I thought of was an old comic book story: “I have eternal life, and it’s killing me.” Suffice to say, it didn’t end well–an eternity of being crushed to death, resurrecting, and being crushed again. Anyway, while I think I’d give an eternity of reliving my current life over and over again a shot, the idea of living into the future without end doesn’t appeal to me. So, my answer to the video’s question is no.

R. Crumb authored that comic I mentioned above. While looking up his Wikipedia entry, I came across this quote:

Killing yourself is a major commitment, it takes a kind of courage. Most people just lead lives of cowardly desperation. It’s kinda half suicide where you just dull yourself with substances.

Robert Crumb

There have been several times over the years when I considered taking “the easy way” out of life. Luckily, I didn’t have the courage to follow through. Call my current lifestyle what you will, but it is better than being dead.

Let’s end this post with a smile or three:

Anyway, we got invited to the Alley Cats bar Christmas party, and we’ll attend for old times’ sake. At least we’ll be off our beaten path for a while.

So, let’s get on with it, shall we?

Speaking of sweet, my visit with Dr. Jo revealed that according to my blood and piss, I’m a hell of a sweet man. If my glucose levels are to be believed anyway. More cholesterol than I need as well. As I understood Dr. Jo to say, “Urine trouble.” My kidneys are doing the heavy lifting, as indicated by the glucose discharge found in my piss. This will eventually damage my kidneys, and I’ll suffer a potential fate of the dialysis nightmare. That’s plenty enough to motivate me to implement some much-needed dietary changes. Goodbye sweets and carbs!

In the good news category, my liver function is normal. Hell, it ought to be. I give it a workout every night. Whatever the cause of my itchy morning rash (which has lessened in intensity lately), it does not appear to be due to my liver failing to fulfill its role in removing toxins.

So, I left with a prescription to eat smarter and continue my exercise regimen. This time I need to follow those orders.

After finishing with Dr. Jo, we hit the beach.

There was a two-week millionaire on board buying drinks for a goodly portion of the working girls. That’s something I enjoy watching more than doing. Hike buddy Steven came out and had a swim, then joined us for a beer. I had a nice chat with an expat I’d never met before who lives in Baloy. Then someone pulled the rope to release the balls (a 1500 peso expense), and the gals all scrambled to grab them (they get 10 pesos per ball). A few balls rolled overboard, and one of the girls jumped in the bay to recover them.

The thought occurred to me to throw a bucket of balls directly into the bay. I rejected the idea as cruel and unusual. One of my fellow floating bar mates didn’t see it that way and tossed the balls overboard.

It turned out to be one of the more enjoyable afternoons I’ve spent on the floating bar. Word on the street is that the Arizona floater will be opening soon. It’s the most wonderful time of the year!

We did our usual after-floater dinner at Treasure Island and had a pleasant visit with owner Bert. Things seem to be picking up tourist-wise in Barretto, and that’s good news for the business owners. After our meal, we hailed a trike and made our way back home. It was a good day and a nice reminder that I’m living in the right place at the right time for me.

From the March 2016 LTG archives is this trip report from a visit I paid to Cebu’s Mactan Island. It was good to check out a new place, and although I didn’t mention it in the post, I was visiting a Filipina I’d met online. It should come as no surprise that that one didn’t work out for me.

Facebook memories reminds me of something else from this day in 2016:

Today’s YouTube video discusses seven signs that indicate how long you might live after 70. Hmm, for the most part, I seem to be doing okay. I’ll guess we’ll find out.

My sense of humor never gets old:

I think that makes me lame. Oh, well. No apologies.

Yesterday, I said goodbye to Gina and hello to BOB.

We dropped Gina off at the bus station in Olongapo on our way to the supermarket. She was a hard worker, and we’ll miss her, but I understand that family always comes first in this culture. I wish her the best.

The highlight of my day was attending the Battle of the Bars, which I call “the BOB” as it seems to be a derivative of the recently deceased SOB. It’s a dance contest featuring girls from five bars, although the format was a little different from what I’m accustomed to.

So, what did I think? Well, the BOB is a quarterly event, so the gals participating seemed much more enthusiastic than I saw at the weekly SOBs. Overall, I’d say the gals were sexier, or at least wore sexier outfits, like t-backs.

There wasn’t an empty seat in the house, and that created some issues. Late arrivers stood around the stage, blocking the view of those of us who had arrived early and secured what we thought would be good seats. Another problem was that the capacity crowd was more than the aircon units could handle, and the room grew uncomfortably warm.

But on with the show. Only the Alaska team bothered with wearing costumes, similar to what they used to wear during their SOB days. The other gals just let their shaking bodies entice the voyeuristic crowd of horny old men. Some of them were better at it than others (or had better equipment), but otherwise, there wasn’t a whole lotta difference in the performances.

Some of the routines went a little long, and it was decided by the powers that be to skip the twerking competition. That was disappointing because I was looking forward to seeing some of that booty jiggle. A couple of the banana-eating performances were disgusting. One of the bar owners dressed like a gal, t-back and all, and joined his team on the stage. Except his dick and balls kept falling out of the bikini bottom. That was something I didn’t want or need to see.

When it was all over, no one came to collect my score sheet, so I was thinking the fix was in. And sure enough, the host bar, Thumbstar, won the event (I had them in third place). The consensus of my group was that the show sucked more than it didn’t. I might consider attending a future performance if it is held at Queen Victoria, a bar with a large stage and plenty of seats with unobstructed views.

The BOB offers a VIP entry ticket for 1,000 pesos that includes all-you-can-drink at all five bars for one night. I purchased one and made sure I drank my money’s worth. I was pretty much at capacity after the show, but visited Queen Victoria for a couple more anyway.

I was tempted to stay for the Queen Vic live music that started in an hour, but good judgment prevailed, and we called it a night and headed home while I was still standing.

From the March 2016 LTG archives, this post was written in response to someone who took offense to my calling the Prophet Mohammad a pedophile. Except they didn’t call me out in the comments; they complained to my employer, the 8th US Army in Korea. Since I was a reemployed annutant, I didn’t have any civil service protections and could have been fired. Fortunately, the Army lawyers took a stand for freedom and said that since what I had written was just my opinion and was written on my own time, no adverse action would be taken. I was told to include a disclaimer in future posts stating that I spoke only for myself on the blog and that my views did not represent those of the US Army. For the record, Mohammad married a nine-year-old, so I stand by my pedophile description.

In today’s YouTube video, the vlogger talks about things in the Philippines that will turn you into a grumpy old man. Well, I already are one, but some of the things he mentions can trigger the scream equivalent to “get off my lawn!” But I try to remember my mantra, “Take a deep breath. Relax. Accept the Filipino way.” It does help.

To the humor we must go:

Alright, time to get on with it then. I picked up my blood work results yesterday and have an appointment with Dr. Jo this afternoon to discuss what they mean. And since I wasted my Tuesday at the BOB, I’ll venture out to the floating bar after my appointment to do some rockin’ on the water.