Granson Ross Thompson @ansonpc

First time I've heard of this guy... thank you sir for saying what many of us were saying and getting mocked for using critical thinking skills...

AmericanPapaBear™ @AmericaPapaBear

2 days ago

Bernie Moreno: "Who the FUCK do you think you are?" YES BERNIE! By the way, I was standing up with Moreno!

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Retired / Rewired , by @ansonpc open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

I took my first Prozac when I was about 28 or 29. My neighbor handed me one, I popped it, and that night my brain felt like a bunch of switches were flipping. I know most of that was probably in my head, but it got me curious. What was all the fuss about this new medicine that even the doctors admitted they didn’t fully understand? It worked. They just couldn’t say why. I went to my doctor and told her I was having anger issues. She put me on another of the newer SSRIs—Lexapro. Took it a couple of months. The anger got worse. I went back and told her that approach wasn’t working. She switched me to a low dose of Prozac, and I’ve been on that little pill for over twenty-five years. Prozac had a way of smoothing everything out. Highs less high, lows less low. I got in my zone and worked hard. The pill helped me navigate life, and I swore I would never stop taking it. It felt like it had made me who I was. If you’ve known me the last twenty-five years, you’ve known Prozac Andy, also known as Anson. A decent enough fellow, floating through the days, Prozac style. open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

My friend Mercedes announced she’s eight years sober. I congratulated her and told her she was an inspiration. She and Becca both work at our local bar, Brooks Place Tavern. I used to sit there drinking my many drinks and wonder how those two could be so damn happy and sober at the same time. Becca poured them at the bar. Mercedes when we were at the high-top. They never preached. They just did their thing and set an example. Quiet beacons. I’m going to try to be one of those now. I’m a quiet beacon with a penchant for a pen. All right, you old creaky bastards and you young whiny whippersnappers and everybody in between. That’s the day 255 update. I could keep going but I don’t want to bore you. Getting sober was the best decision I’ve made in fifty-seven years. Some people just shouldn’t drink. I’m one of them. We’re not many. We’re not particularly proud of it. But if you’re on my team and you’re still drinking, or still thinking about taking a pause, do it. Today can be day one. Tomorrow day two. In two hundred fifty-three days you can ask the computer how many days have passed since whatever date you pick, and it’ll tell you. open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

@yannispappas Glp's killed all my jolly friends... now their just skinny bitchy Whitney regular folks

I called Mom and Dad on the way to the course. Dad was reading. Mom was out roaming the halls, learning the new place like she was mapping a small country. Years ago I wrote a little book about the Thompson men and nursing homes. It was called Nursing Home Funking. If you say the title slow enough you’ll get the joke. I’ve already had the talk with my father. He promised to break the cycle. But here’s the thing: they both sounded happy. Like they were on vacation. The place is full of people their age who still have some gas in the tank and want to talk. Mom had to hang up because Silver Sneakers was starting. I smiled when I hung up. Paige Ann Palladino made the whole transition look easy, Thanks, Paige! open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

Dustin Poirier: "I'm never going to drink again in my life. I made a vow. When I make promises to myself like that, and to my family like that, I don't break them." 👏

DRINKING REGULARLY MAKES YOU MORE STRESSED WHEN SOBER "People who drink regularly, so this again could be just one or two drinks per night, or it could be somebody that drinks just on Fridays or just on Saturdays, or maybe just on the weekend, two to four drinks. Well, those people experience changes in their hypothalamic pituitary adrenal axis that result in more cortisol, more of this so-called stress hormone being released at baseline when they are not drinking. This is really important. People who drink a bit, and when I say a bit, I don't mean one or two sips or even a glass of wine every once in a while. I mean, again, people that are maybe having one drink a night with dinner and maybe on the weekend, a few more. Again, I offer a bunch of different patterns to explain how it could also be two or three drinks on Friday or six drinks only on Saturday. Well, all of those groups experience increases in cortisol release from their adrenal glands when they are not drinking. And as a consequence, they feel more stressed and more anxiety when they aren't drinking. This is a seldom talked about effect of alcohol because so often we hear about the immediate effects of alcohol, right? And we've been talking about some of those effects."

Everything you wanted to know about Peptides in a 3 minute read: We’re all getting fake I.D.s. But instead of claiming we’re twenty-one, we’re going over a hundred. Chad’s 105. Karen’s 107. I’m 109, easy. Next time someone asks for my I.D.—which happens constantly, by the way, even though apparently you don’t need one to vote—I’ll whip it out and let them sit with the math. They’ll say, “My God, are you really 109?” I’ll say, “Yes. Yes I am.” Then I’ll tighten the face, suck in the stomach for maximum effect, and ask if they want to know my secret. Of course they will. And we’ll answer, with complete sincerity: “Peptides.” open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

Pretty soon the whole crew rolled in: Tanner and Kayla, Nick and Carly, Quincy and Alex, and all the grandkids running around like it was their personal playground. Carly’s got a little clump of cells growing in there—number seven due in November. I tell you what, there is no love in this world like a grandparent’s love for a grandchild. Mark my words. When they’re all together, time just sits down for a minute and behaves itself. We spent the day on the porch, watching the final hours of that particular paradise. Sixty years my mom and dad lived in that house. Sixty years. You can’t list all the memories; you’d run out of paper and still miss half of them. A steady stream of folks came by to pay respects to two absolute legends. I can’t name everyone, but to every last one of you: thank you. A thousand times. It was the perfect send-off. open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

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@mattnettleton @MarkRuffalo @elonmusk Preach!

@Forbes This is like me losing $10.00 on a walk, this is not news.

Mental illness is real. Always has been. When I was a kid they just called it “retarded,” which wasn’t exactly poetic but at least it was direct. Later we got more sophisticated and swapped in other words, like we were playing linguistic hot potato. Some folks were “slow,” others were “crazy”—one meant not fast enough, the other meant way too damn fast. Me? I’ve been on an SSRI for years. Not sure I still need it, but here I am, getting a little mental assistance like a responsible citizen. Here’s the thing, though—and I say this as someone who’s squarely on Team Mental Health—I think a lot of people have started using the diagnosis the way you’d use a Get Out of Jail Free card. Got a drug problem? Societal pressures? General mess of your own making? Just announce you’ve “got something” and suddenly it’s not your fault, it’s chemistry. Society’s fault. The moon’s fault. Whatever’s convenient. open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

Quick reminder that we're doing the HD33 Community Walk on this Saturday, and every Saturday, at 7am at Broomfield Commons, I hope you will join us!

Turns out Tim and Lois had been married four years. They were glowing with happiness. They were curious about our life, and we were curious about theirs. They’d just bought a second home in Florida. We talked about how much better life is when you’ve got the right partner by your side. Lois told their story: both had lost their first spouses, they’d been high-school sweethearts who reconnected, and the rest was history. The only wrinkle was that their kids weren’t exactly thrilled. They’re working through it. At one point Lois mentioned they’d gotten matching tattoos that said “Let Them.” We showed them our right wrists and our own matching tattoos. Tim asked what ours stood for. We told him: “Right FUCKING Now!” Lois raised her hand like she was in church and said, “Preach!” We finished our meal, said our goodbyes, and learned they were 81 and 80. Someone needs to study their gene pool—these two seem built to last. That’s another retirement reminder: sit at the bar. You never know who you’ll meet or when they’ll say something that makes you think, “Well, how about that?” open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

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I remember the first time I got sober years ago. Buddy had a big accomplishment, champagne came out. I thought, one glass won’t hurt. The narrator in my head today says, “He cannot have one glass of champagne.” I can be around the stuff just fine. Both houses are full of it. But that poison doesn’t touch these lips anymore. At fifty-six I finally figured out there’s exactly one thing that can derail the whole operation. So I ended the relationship. This is the part where I gently tell anyone wrestling with the bottle: take it easy. Slow down. Ask yourself if it’s adding to your life or subtracting. For me it was all subtraction. I got lucky. Very lucky. I’m not doing it alone either—I asked God for help and He put me on the team with His Son. We’re working on it. Sobriety is like one of my grandkids now: one of the most precious things I own. I’ll die without touching my personal poison again. Cheers to you and yours—coffee cheers, obviously. open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

Grok - WTF is that! Well, look at that. Some kinda scrappy little fighter, huh? Just pokin’ its head right up through a crack in the sidewalk like it’s got nothin’ better to do. That’s a watermelon plant, my friend. Volunteer edition. You know, the kind that shows up uninvited after somebody tossed a rind or a seed somewhere it didn’t belong. Those big, jagged, hand-shaped leaves with the fuzzy stems and that tiny yellow flower comin’ in? Classic cucurbit family. Could be a cantaloupe or some other melon cousin, but the vibe screams watermelon to me. Nature’s way of sayin’, “Concrete? That’s cute. Watch this.” You gonna water the little guy or let it duke it out with the pavement? Either way, respect.

I wrote a book a few years back called Enjoy the Fucking Journey. Dad wasn’t thrilled with the title, but it’s the truth. Be present. Soak it in. At our age, this is prime time. If you’re on the fence about retirement, get off it. Wind it down. Craft a life around what you actually love. Wake up and do whatever the hell you want. If you’re still working, enjoy it—you’ll miss it. But what’s waiting on the other side? Dare I say… orgasmic. That’s enough musing for one grain-bin morning. Need another cup of coffee. We’ll hit the road by ten, find a dog park, breathe the air, and love every damn second of whatever’s left in these last fifty-seven years on the spinning ball. We’re the couple that takes the road less traveled. And for us, that has made all the difference. open.substack.com/pub/ansonrosst…

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Good morning!