The Time Has Come to Ban Booze Again

Last year I gave up booze for a period of 6 months — mostly to prove to myself I could do it. It has a surprising effect on me — one that I truly enjoyed. No more hangovers. No more sojourns into the endless pits of COCKED TAILS and parading myself with martini glasses. None of that shit. I gave it up — hit the gym 4 days per week — and got very disciplined. My trading was never better and my fitness was on track to become great — but then COVID-19 hit and the son of a whore derailed my fitness efforts and everything has gone downhill, in that regard, since.

I started drinking, as promised, on the first day of summer and I must admit — NOT FEELING IT. I kind of miss the inane absurdity of living an austere lifestyle of temperance.

Last night I hopped on the fucking scale for the first time since April and I was shocked to find out I had gained 10lbs and now weigh 174. While this might be slim for many, or most, of you absolute fat fucks, “The Fly” cannot oblige. I refuse to slide down the path of sloth and sloppiness — carrying myself with disgrace down the boulevard with a protruding midriff over my Peter Millar slacks. Not going to happen.

So effective immediately, AUSTERE TIMES HAVE STRICKEN HOUSE FLY AGAIN.

Gone are the days of endless pasta bowls and sandwiches with brioche — or barreled ass panned cakes with an extra heaping of butter, swimming in mapled syrup. No more cakes, or puddings, or booze for that matter. Absolutely NOTHING at all — no carbs, no beers, no fun, no nothing.

My life will consist of gym, tennis, protein consumption, water, WHEY, study and sleep.