What up 46ers?! It’s been too long.

Well… It’s Friday night and you know what the fuck that means and if you don’t…. What can I do to help you understand? It’s Friday! Anyway, let’s get right to the point, I don’t want you to feel attacked before we discuss some very important subject matter.

I was up at the 46forum Headquarters the other night and it was 4th of July 2018. Old School Joe was there and Little Dog and The 1st Lady of the 46 were there as well. It was a fine time and there were two dimes, but that only adds up to twenty cents if you’re counting at home. We were grilling outside and I volunteered to cook. I’m not gonna say it wasn’t my idea or that it wasn’t great. It was. So OSJ and crew were prepping the burgers and my old boss calls me into the back room. You know the same room long ago known as the crack room. He’s looking at me real seriously and uses a finger motion to come closer. I did. And what happened next was amazing! (Just kidding. Fuck you Facebook for using that stupid fuckin phrase for the lamest shit on the web)

So Pink Panther has me in a room. He taps on his ring. He asks me, “Why are you back?”

I had no real answer except for my brother, his dog and a chance to maybe feel like my family hadn’t all gone to places I was not welcome to follow. I just looked at him. I smiled but the gesture was not returned.

He tapped his ring once again but this time off my forehead. “Get you one of these!” He said. And I knew I wanted nothing more in life.

But what did it mean to get you one? How do I get one? If I get one, I’m gonna slap that piece of shit boss in his whiskers I know that much. I said I’m telling you that! (Marie in editing, if you edit that out, I’m gonna write some mouthy letters. So #letitbeknown)

I went back to my family friends and 46forum staff. We cooked. We had a waterballon fight. We popped off some Joe Dirt specials. By the end of the night, the office was 2inches deep in water. The chicken I had made was not barbeque chicken. It was water chicken. The dimes looked like dollar pieces and my heart was full. My eyes were clear. It had been the Friday Night Lights definition of Perfect. Old School Joe even slapped his bubble gum out the air like he was Mr. Perfect. It got me to thinking.

Rights to family are not contractually obligated. The titles we came for that we fell short of were not lost! Water chicken is peace wrapped in harmony and laced in PCP. I came here to win. And life like baseball is a percentile of excellence and an abundance of failure. I want to be on the staff. I want my at bats! Just know boys and girls that when you’re up against it and the breaks are beating your squad, you look at each other and say let’s win this for Gregg. Win one for me, would ya? I don’t know where I’m going. But I’ll know when I get there. And p.s. Old Gregg died awhile back. The guy writing to you now is old and Gregg. But not Old Gregg. Thinking I need a pen name.