A Beginner's Guide to Betting on NHL Hockey

Amidst our slower than anticipated start, I have seen countless comments on GTD's and other posts about how we have such a great team on paper, but TG's system is just not working. Despite the consistent shitting on TG's system, I have actually yet to see anyone on this sub point out any technical flaws, instead making comments like "we're always outshot", or "we always rely on goaltending", or my favourite "we have such a talented team, but the system is hurting our ability to win games". Since no one can actually explain why our system is causing our issues, I decided to take a look at last games goals against and try and identify any system flaws that may have lost us the game.
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Goal #1 - EVEN: Josh Anderson (5) Wrist Shot, assists: Ben Chiarot (2), Nick Suzuki (7)
This goal is about 5% on Bo and 95% on Jalen Chatfield. Chariot takes the feed from the corner and throws a weak one on net, it tips off Bo's stick and changes direction right to Josh Anderson. You could possibly argue Bo needs to be more aware of his stick position, but since his stick was off the ice, I would argue it was more poor luck than carelessness. Chatfield actually does a good job tracking his man as you can see him look back and cover his assignment, unfortunately the change of direction of the puck threw him off guard and he didn't have enough strength on his man to take away the scoring chance. It is a good sign to see Chatfield track his man, but in the NHL where the game is so quick, he needs to be quicker and stronger on his man. Not a systems issue here, all players were positioned well, however there was simply some poor puck luck and Chatfield needing to be stronger on his man.
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Goal #2 - EVEN: Josh Anderson (6) Tip-In, assists: Brett Kulak (3), Nick Suzuki (8)
This is the only goal from the game where I could accept a potential systems issue, however I would argue this one is more on Sutter simply not executing the breakout properly, and Montreal just making a great play to cause the turnover. Sutter has the puck along the boards, and is almost immediately pressured by Anderson giving him basically no time to make a play. Suzuki actually does an incredible job here noticing the pressure on Sutter and jumping into the breakout lane to cause the turnover, very impressive awareness by the young talent. For anyone who has ever played any level of hockey before, it is breakout 101 to have the Center curl up the middle of the ice to create the outlet pass from the winger. While this breakout pass works most of the time, Sutter does need to be aware of any disruption in the passing lane, and dump it softly up the boards/glass if the outlet pass isn't there since he wasn't able to skate it out due to the pressure by Anderson. In this case, he makes the wrong play to try and feed Beagle, the habs take possession and eventually get a goal off a nice tip from Anderson who had an amazing shift. Again, not a systems issue. This is breakout 101 and unfortunately Sutter made the wrong play, however this was great work by Anderson and Suzuki to force the pressure and the turnover.
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Goal #3 - EVEN: Tyler Toffoli (8) Tip-In, assists: Joel Edmundson (2), Jeff Petry (8)
Off the face-off the habs gain possession. Petey does the right thing here by pressuring Edmundson and forcing a weak shot on goal, as it is the responsibility of the winger (in this case Petey didn't take the draw and therefore was the winger in this scenario) to cover the point. He did stumble off the draw which slowed him down, however he recovered quick and didn't entirely lose his position. Hughes, Toffoli's assignment, actually battles nicely against him, however Toffoli makes a really nice last second adjustment to come off Hughes' check and tip it by Demko. This goal was just nicely done by Toffoli, however Hughes does need to take some blame for letting Toffoli get into position to tip the weak shot, which he could have avoided IMO by battling a little bit harder to disrupt Toffoli's stick position. You could argue Petey falling off the draw gave time to Edmunson to coral the puck from his backhand and get off a shot, however I would say Hughes needs to be more aggressive on his assignment and take away Toffoli's position. Once again, this was not a system that was exploited, but rather a combination of Petey falling off the draw and Hughes needing to battle harder in front of the net.
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Goal #4 - EVEN: Tyler Toffoli (9) Backhand, assists: Jesperi Kotkaniemi (6), Shea Weber (5)
On this goal, Hughes makes the pinch to keep the puck in the zone, and is successful. However, Bo does a good job covering the pinch which is the right play. From here, a few things happen - Bo abandons his position covering the point for Hughes to help Miller who has the puck, which is the right play. Hughes makes a mistake here by getting caught puck watching - the second he finishes executing the pinch he NEEDS to hustle back to his position at the point, you can actually seem him pause for a second or two watching the puck, and then immediately start booking it back down the ice because he realizes he lost his position. Miller does turnover the puck, however he was pressured hard by the habs players, and the ensuing Toffoli partial break would have been prevented if Hughes hustled back to his position instead of puck watching. Toffoli then turns poor Jordie Benn into a pylon and scores an absolute beauty. Jordie Benn also needs to do better here, although you can't deny the beautiful play by the former Canuck. Sure, you could argue the aggressive system of making the pinch play as often as possible could cause more odd man rushes, however in this instance Hughes has enough time to get back and prevent the Toffoli partial break but unfortunately he gets caught puck watching which allows Toffoli to break free. Jordie Benn also needs to play the 1 on 1 better.
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Conclusion
I am no die hard TG supporter by any means, he's a relatively new head coach and certainly has room for improvement. However, it is important to understand that our losses are not entirely due to some system issue that causes us to break down more than other systems out there. Aside from the Sutter giveaway, all of the goals were due to defenseman losing 1 on 1 battles or losing their position. The reality is that some of our younger defenseman are prone to defensive breakdowns, which is PERFECTLY NORMAL for young defenseman. There is a reason that it is harder for defenseman to break into the NHL if they are not outstanding offensively, and that is because it is such a difficult position. In all of the goals I highlighted in this lengthy ass post, it was quite literally 1-2 seconds of mental or physical lapses that caused the breakdown, and that is the reality of the NHL. Losing Tanev REALLY hurt us. Like really really hurt us. He was a minute eater that made the right play 99% of the time. However, it is what it is and we need our players to step up and improve their game defensively. It will happen, which is why I am not all that worried, since our offense is potent, however I don't believe whatsoever that getting a new coach and changing our system is going to fix our issues overnight.
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EDIT - I forgot to include the acknowledgement that YES this is just one game, very small sample size. However, I don't have the time to go through every goal against this season obviously, and since the GDT for this game was systems this, systems that, I decided to use this game as my sample. I am definitely open to look at other games where system issues may be more obvious, however for now I decided to focus on this game in particular.

My Assessment and Selection was an "Audition" of sorts. I ceased a phenomenal opportunity. I physically, and mentally "Auditioned" for an extremely selective position that required a healthy amount of combat deployments, suitable appetite for violence, and an unhealthy amount of alcohol consumption. It was, hands-down, the best "Audition" I have ever subjected myself to.
Dear Reader, I have failed. I was simply unaware. Maybe I forgot? Forgetfulness is plausible. My profession as a Corporate Headhunter has produced undesirable side effects, and forgetfulness is undoubtedly one of them. The Wife was the first person to notice my deteriorating mental acuity. The wife can be so negative at times though. Seriously! I remembered the car seat. I remember the stroller. I even remembered the diaper bag, and formula. Yet, all she can talk about is how, "You forgot the baby!"
Pause
Dear Reader, see? See that "Pause" over to the left? I briefly forgot what I was typing about. Perks of the job. Anyways, I either missed or completely forgot about the "Audition." I happened though. Evidently, there was a recent "Audition" for the esteemed role of "Cul-De-Sac Drama Queen." Being that I missed the audition, I am only left with my assumptions.
Drama Queen: A Karen who habitually responds to situations in a melodramatic way.
Dramatization
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Female Voice: Hello?
Karen: Hey Bitch. I am looking to apply for the Cul-De-Sac Drama Queen opening.
Female Voice: Did you just call me a bitch?
Karen: (Sweet Voice) No. You must be hearing things.
Female Voice: (Suspicious) Okay!?! What are your qualifications for this esteemed position?
Karen: I have been jobless since I married. I live at home with my morbidly obese husband, and my forty-nine year old son who is also jobless.
Female Voice: You're forty-nine year old son?
Karen: Yes. He had a rough divorce nine years ago and is still getting-on-his-feet.
Female Voice: Wow. Anything else?
Karen: My breath reeks of Friskies, and I love the cat I don't have more than I love my husband.
Female Voice: That's certainly a start...
Karen: Oh. My dildo has a prescription for Viagra.
Female Voice: Well then! That's a horse of another color! You sound like a real B-I-T-C-H!
Karen: (Proudly) I am!
Again, I was not privy to the interview transcripts, but I surmise I am approximately two-hundred percent accurate in my dramatization assessment. I know what you are thinking Dear Reader, "What did Karen do this time that has Sloppy so irritated?" Dear Reader, she clearly continues to underestimate my resolve, and undying commitment to the beloved art of "Fuck-Fuck."
Christmas was Christmas! However, the wife had a last-minute request on the 23rd of December.
Wife: Have you ever built a quarterpipe?
Sloppy: No. I don't skateboard.
Wife: Do you think you can build one?
Sloppy: Does a bear shit in the woods and wipe his ass with a fluffy white rabbit?
Wife: (Disgust) Does that mean you can build it?
Sloppy: Only if you volunteer to be the first to take Cake to Urgent Care or the Emergency Room (ER).
Wife: (Smile) Deal!
Sloppy: Yes. I will start right-away!
Wife: You can't! I don't want him to see it. You will have to build it Christmas Eve. After he goes to bed.
Sloppy: Like, after midnight?
Wife: (Wife Eyes) Yeah!?!
Sloppy: Fuck Sleep! Sleep is a crutch.
I found some respectable specs online, and did exactly as instructed. I destroyed my pristine shop, and built a superb quarterpipe for Cake. I was dead-tired when we opened gifts, but the glimmer of joy in Cake's eyes was payment enough. Cake absolutely "loved" his quarterpipe. When Cake ceremoniously took his maiden trip up his quarterpipe, Karen was devilishly preparing for Drama Queen-warfare. Karen donned her leopard-printed "Queen Bitch" shirt, Spanx Shapewear Waist Cincher, and tiger-print leggings in preparation to torment an eleven year old boy.
28 December 2020
9:07 AM EST
It's early morning and my back is questioning my decision to "slow-down" and take a desk job. I was quietly pondering my life decisions, and then there was a ruckus in the garage. The door that enters into the main household swung open with intense speed. My wife had just unceremoniously transformed into Karen.
Sloppy's Balls Retract Into Stomach.
Sloppy: (Big-Big-Big Fucking Eyes) Yeah!?!
Wife: There is a man, WITH A BADGE, outside our door!
Sloppy Brain: Did you murder anyone last night?
Thinking!
Sloppy Brain: I don't think so. BUT, we cannot rule it out. Maybe the Wife asked for the "Manager."
Sloppy: RELAX. I've got this.
Sloppy Brain: Do you?
Thinking
Sloppy Brain: Probably not!
Green Mile Walk To Front Door
Sloppy: Can I help you "Officer?"
Officer: Hello. I am Mr. Phillips, and I am a Codes Compliance Inspector for CITY NAME. Here is my Card, and here is my Badge.
Sloppy Brain: You can TOTALLY take this guy!
Sloppy: (Puzzled) Okay!?! What can I help you with?
Inspector: There has been a nuisance complaint about a skateboard ramp.
Sloppy: (Pissed) WHAT?
Inspector: Yes. I can show you the complaint if you'd like.
Sloppy: I would!
Shuffling Around; Present IPAD
Sloppy Reading: Skateboard ramps are not permitted with CITY NAME in any residential zoning district, unless located within community facility as a use accessory to the community facility. Words, Words, Words, are permitted in Park Zoning District. Words, Words, Words, ramps in other non-residential zoned properties shall require a conditional use permit approved by the city council.
Sloppy: So I can apply to have it approved.
Inspector: (Laughed) I have been doing this job for forty-four years, and they have never approved one. My son skateboards, and that's why we moved.
Sloppy: I built this on Christmas Eve. He has only used it twice, and I can ensure you the "noise" is far less than our basketball hoop, or shooting hockey pucks at a steel goal.
Wife: I want to know who complained!
Inspector: I can't tell you...
Sloppy: We know who complained. (Looks to Wife). I've got this.
Inspector: How big is the ramp Sir?
Sloppy: Want to see it?
Inspector: Sure. I built a twenty-eight foot half pipe for my son. Seeing it will really help me out.
Inspector Inspects Quarterpipe.
Inspector: (FUCKING PUZZLED)
Inspector Points
Inspector: This? I am out here for this?
Inspector Jumps On And Around Quarterpipe
Inspector: They said the "Sound is penetrating their house." They serious? This is the quietest thing I have ever seen.
Sloppy: Look, we have had problems with these neighbors. Thus the reason for the higher fence, hanging herb garden to block basketballs, and other renovations...
Inspector: Did they come over and talk about it with...
Sloppy: NO. They are not "adults." They are the most passive aggressive people I have ever met. I would have gladly accommodated them. I can insulate the inside, and put a backer-board on it. I can dictate skating times. However, they would prefer to complain than act like reasonable adults.
Inspector: (Laughing) Yes. They actually sent me the city ordinance code in the complaint. They know what they are doing.
Sloppy: What now?
Inspector: I am caught here. The city ordinance clearly states that skateboard ramps are in violation.
Sloppy: What's that mean. Do I get a ticket? Do I get a fine?
Inspector: Well, you would get a notice to move it in thirty-days and then a re-inspection.
Sloppy: So you're telling I have to get rid of the ramp?
Inspector: Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do.
Sloppy: (Pissed) We have tennis courts here...
Inspector: (Baffled) What?
Sloppy: Tennis courts. They're designed for tennis. However, there is roller-hockey played on the tennis courts on the weekends. Tennis is their designed purpose, but I assume there is no ordinance violation with roller-hockey being played on tennis courts. Is there?
Inspector: (Still Baffled) Suppose not. Nothing against that.
Sloppy: Great. I see the city ordinance specifically targets skateboard ramps. What about scooter or bike ramps?
Inspector: (Scrolling) Nope. Nothing about ramps for scooters or bikes.
Sloppy: Awesome. I worked in a job in which "words" have meaning. How do you like my "Bike Ramp." I designed for bikes, but I suppose there is no ordinance against that?
Inspector: (Laughing) No. There is nothing in the Codes about bike or scooter ramps.
Sloppy: It's not a skateboard ramp. What now?
Inspector: I will have to explain this to my boss, and the lawyer.
Sloppy: Good. I will also assume the city is not willing to lose in court over an ordinance either? I mean, I am willing to fight to keep my bike ramp, because there is no law that dictates the name of this wood contraption. It's a bike ramp, and I don't care if my son uses his skateboard on it. I can be a subjective prick too.
Inspector: (Laughing) No. You would certainly win in court.
Sloppy: Great. What now?
Inspector: I will be consulting with the powers that be, and I will give you a call back.
2:59 PM (Inspector Pulls Up)
Inspector: Good Afternoon!
Sloppy: Maybe!?!
Inspector: I spoke to my boss. There is no ordinance about bike ramps. This is tricky though, because we are figuring out how to word-smith this to them.
Sloppy: I mean, I can go knock on their door right now and tell them to, "Fuck Off."
Inspector: (Laughing) That is not the preferred way. Just thought I would stop over and let you know.
Sloppy: I appreciate it Mr. Phillips.
Inspector: (Laughing) Enjoy your "Bike Ramp."
Sloppy: Oh. I will!
29 December 2020 - Right Fucking Now (1:49 EST)
My neighbor semi-recently had a tree removed. The owner of the business is in their church group. Oddly enough, his lat name is Stump. Well, I befriended Mr. Stump during the course of three days while he was working in my neighbors yard. We have become buddies, and I utilized his service as a "scare-tactic" a couple months ago. It was a, "Fuck with me...I cut your tree" event. Mr. Stump pulled his heavy equipment into my yard, and gazed at Karen's beloved three. I grew "concerned" with the nearly fifty percent that grows over my property line. This devastated Karen. Dear Reader, I had thought she learned. I thought the war was over. I have very, very recently become concerned with the tree again.
1:53 EST - Mr. Stump Walking To My Garage
Stump: Sloppy. How the fuck have you been?
Sloppy: I thought good. I thought our tactic last time worked.
Stump: Really? She was crying like a baby.
Sloppy: This Karen is more powerful than I thought. Never again.
Stump: (Laughing) What do you need me to do?
Sloppy: Check it out, and then give me an actual estimate.
Stump: (Laughing Hysterically) I am not going to charge you. It will probably only take a couple hours, and I cannot wait to watch her cry. When do you want it done?
Sloppy: Maybe you can go knock on her door, and ask to troop her property line to get a better idea of the job? Step one starts now. I want them to know beforehand.
Stump: (Laughing) Well, we'd do that anyways, but I might as well do it while I am here.
Stump Departs; Sloppy Watches With Non-Lethal Airsoft Glock19XR
Dear Reader, unfortunately I cannot detail the entire conversation. I refuse to make up the first thirty-seconds. Fortunately, I can detail the rest of the conversation. Now, I am not entirely certain, but I honestly believe a colony of Fire Ants ascended her leg, and were the first brave Soldiers to tickle her "Fancy" since 1976. Mr. Stump had just awoken the Karen, and she wasn't Karen about anything he had so say.
Karen: You will not touch that tree. It was a gift from my daughter and it has been here for over thirty years.
Sloppy Brain: I feel sorry for you daughter. Only because you are here Karen mother.
Stump: Ma'am. The only thing I asked was to walk your property line to determine the work.
Stump Fucks Sloppy
Stump: (Pointing) It's the property owner that is concerned about the tree.
Karen Sees Sloppy;Balls Retract...Again!
Karen: You're going to cut my tree?
Sloppy: (Pointing) No. I am not going to cut your tree. I am going to hire him to do it.
Karen: I thought we talked about this?
Sloppy: Yes. I thought we spoke about being civil. Evidently not.
Karen: You can't cut my tree. I will call a lawyer.
Stump: Ma'am. That'd be a waste of money, but you can if you wish. The property owner is well within his rights to trim the tree.
Karen: How much are you doing to TRIM?
Sloppy: (Balls Drop) TRIM? Every fucking bit of it that goes into my property will be TRIMMED!
Karen: That will kill it.
Sloppy: That's why I have hired an arborist!
Stump: Yeah. Ma'am it wont die. It'll just look really fucking funny.
Ken And Kenny Jr Come Out
Kenny Jr: Mom!
Yes. The forty-nine year old man-child just yelled mom, like a toddler.
Karen: They're going to cut my tree.
Kenny Jr: They can't do that. Has ta be illegal!
Sloppy: Nope. Perfectly legal.
Kenny Jr. Growing Some; Steps Towards Sloppy
Sloppy: I'd watch it!
Kenny Jr: Or What?
Sloppy: Both our Rings are recording. You step on my property and I will perceive it to be an act of aggression. I will beat the shit out of you, and happily spend a night in the clink!
Ken: Wait. Wait. Wait. You can't cut down the tree!
Sloppy Retreats To Garage; Grabs Pruning Sheers
Sloppy Cuts Large Portion Of Juniper Tree Leaning On Sloppy's Fence
Sloppy: I can!
Stump: (Laughing) Yeah. You can't have your tree lean on or over his fence too. That's against ordinance.
Arguing With Fence In The Middle Now
Sloppy Brain: I left the gate open. PLEASE, PLEASE assume it's an invitation!
Ken: Wait. Can we not talk about this?
Sloppy: We are! Dear Ken, I've hired someone to cut half your tree! End of discussion.
Ken: Okay. Okay. I will withdraw the complaint about the skateboard ramp.
Sloppy Brain: Got-you Mother Trucker.
Sloppy: Skateboard ramp? What skateboard ramp?
Ken: That one. That there!
Sloppy: Ken. I don't see a "skateboard" ramp. I see a bike ramp. See there (Pointing), it says bike ramp. I cannot help it if kids ride their skateboards on it though. Bike ramps are not against ordinance. Please address my BIKE RAMP properly. I don't want kids to think they can skateboard on it.
Karen: (No. No. No Dance) IT'S NOT. THAT'S A SKATEBOARD RAMP...
Sloppy: Nope. Spoke to one of the city Inspectors, and got a phone call from the lawyer. They said, "You're dancing a fine line, but there is nothing we can do about you BIKE RAMP." Ain't that a bitch? Sorta...like you!
Karen: (Talking To Ken) HE CAN'T DO THAT KEN. CAN'T. CAN'T. CAN'T.
Ken: Sloppy...
Sloppy: Ken.
Ken: We need to talk about this! NOW!
Sloppy: What, exactly, do we need to talk about...
Ken: We...
Sloppy: Your passive aggressive complaint to the city? The fact that a seventy-two year old man cannot find the testicles to ask me about my not-skateboard ramp? Or do we want to talk about your sixty-nine year old wife acting like a spoiled princess as she throws a tantrum for Ring Cameras?
Ken: You're a real fucking asshole.
Sloppy: The only honest thing you have said thus far.
Ken: So Mr. Stump. You think you're going to come onto my property to assess...
Stump: No. No. No. Not anymore. I am going to go in the garage with Sloppy and drink beer now. Sir, I have never said this before, but I look forward to cutting your tree, in half. Good evening.
Inaudible Yelling
Stump: Ho-Lee FUCK. How do you deal with that?
Sloppy: I call an arborist friend I know!
Stump: That's hilarious.
Sloppy: Want to hear something funny?
Stump: You've got more?
Sloppy: I have been on the hunt for the last twenty-four hours. The wife said, "Do what you want."
Stump: My God! What do you have planned?
Sloppy: I just ordered a glitter-bomb for...
Stump: What?
Sloppy: Mail package...that explodes very, very fine glitter everywhere once opened. They will get it next month. I need to create a decent amount of space, but anonymity is guaranteed. I also used a rechargeable card, at Starbucks, and while using a Virtual Private Network (VPN).
Stump: (Laughing) They are going to love that...
Sloppy: Oh. I also order a new desk light for Kelly. It's going to sit in his window, because it faces their master bedroom.
Stump: (Laughing) What kind of light?
Sloppy: This one (See Link Below)!
Stump: A skeleton middle finger! (Laughing)
Sloppy: Oh, and my parametric speaker will be here Friday!
Stump: A what!?!
Sloppy: Parametric Speaker! It's a directional speaker that focuses sounds. Think of a laser beam of sound that you can only hear if pointed towards you. Like, out Kelly's bedroom, and towards their master bedroom.
Stump: Won't that bother Kelly too though?
Sloppy: Watch this. (YouTube Video Link Below)
Stump Watching YouTube
Sloppy: See? It's directionally focused sound. Kelly won't hear it. Nor will the cops when they arrive.
Stump: (Hysterical Laughter) You Sir, are the biggest asshole I have ever met.
Sloppy: I have also ordered eclectic Garden Gnomes. One is a Zombie Gnome, and the other lovable Travelocity-looking fucker is giving the finger, and with some camera-magic, they have both been approved by the Home Owners Association (HOA).
Stump: Really? I thought the HOA took weeks to approve stuff.
Sloppy: They do. I submitted it in October!
Stump: (Scared) You are "that guy." The guy that should never be fucked with unless it's all-out war.
Sloppy: We are in the heat of battle friend. So how much to "trim" the tree?
Stump: (Sips Beer) Fucking Free. I cannot wait to see her face when it all comes down! Fuck that bitch!
Sloppy: Cheers!
Dear Reader, I am "All-In" now. I have done everything in my powers to be a rational, and reasonable neighbor. It seems the neighbors and I are polar opposites. I am out here hunting laughs, and they are digging for misery, pain, and regret. My Grandfather said, "You get everything you want in life. If you didn't get it, you didn't want it bad enough." Dear Reader, I think they "want" to be miserable, and I am certainly going to do my part to ensure they get it. Besides, who wouldn't want to hear "Bitches Ain't Shit" by Dr Dre being pumped out of a direction parametric speaker?
Future Prediction
Cop Lights
Karen: The music is non-stop and driving me crazy. My dildo turned into my son, and just stopped working too.
Cop: I don't hear the music.
Karen: It's in my room!
Cop: What?
Karen: You can only hear it in my room!
Cop Brain: Bat-Shit Cray-Cray!
Must Use Seriously Incapacitating Chords (MUSIC) Assault STOPS!!!
Cops Check Around;Assume Karen Is Crazy
Knock. Knock. Knock
Sloppy: (Groggy) Officer. Is there something I can do for you?
Cop: Your'e neighbor...
Sloppy: Karen?
Cop: YES. She is complaining of loud music. She said it plays all the time. However, we don't hear any music.
Sloppy: That's odd. Has there been complaints from other neighbors.
Cop: No. We've talked to them, and not a single one of them complained about music.
Sloppy: You know what? I am probably not supposed to say this, but Karen has been mentally declining since we moved in. She called my bike ramp a skateboard ramp, and constantly accuses me of petty things like allowing my children to play basketball in their own yard. Maybe she has lost touch with reality?
Cop: That's exactly what we were thinking. Have a good evening you handsome looking chap!
Door Shuts; Cops Leave
Sloppy: Alexa. Play "Bitches Ain't Shit" by Dr. Dre.
Alexa: Here's Beep Ain't Beep by Dr. Dre on Amazon Music.
Sloppy: Alexa! Volume Ten.
Sloppy Brain: I wonder if it's actually on, because I cannot hear a fucking word.
Sloppy: (Humming) Bitches ain't shit but...
Dear Reader, I do apologize for the length of this saga. You should seriously get a medal for reading this rant. I said I was busy. Believe me, I am busy. However, I could not wait to get this tale out. Ordering petty items to assist with revenge, and calling an arborist was not enough. I simply needed to detail this in written form. It really makes me feel better when I capture my stress when I let you know. I never imaged my neighborly revenge stories would transform from Limited Series. We are nearly across the line into 2021, and I already fucking know that Season Two is going to be better!
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Cheers FUckers,
Sloppy
​
Kelly Desk Light: https://www.wish.com/product/5bdeeac459db9f7323644398?hide_login_modal=true&from_ad=goog_shopping&_display_country_code=US&_force_currency_code=USD&pid=googleadwords_int&c=%7BcampaignId%7D&ad_cid=5bdeeac459db9f7323644398&ad_cc=US&ad_lang=EN&ad_curr=USD&ad_price=22.00&campaign_id=7203534630&gclid=CjwKCAiAxKv_BRBdEiwAyd40N3iQLbETqlNzO-601PmjmM7sErTtvXPmtNOMNmQj_1qQ3pHBqIT0oBoChYYQAvD_BwE&share=web
Parametric Speaker: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hD5FPVSsV0&t=110s

NEW INFO 5 Results from share redemption are posted. Less than .2% redeemed. Very bullish as investors are showing extreme confidence in the future of PLBY.
https://finance.yahoo.com/news/playboy-mountain-crest-acquisition-corp-120000721.html
NEW INFO 4 Definitive Agreement to purchase 100% of Lovers brand stores announced 2/1.
https://www.streetinsider.com/Corporate+News/Playboy+%28MCAC%29+Confirms+Deal+to+Acquire+Lovers/17892359.html
NEW INFO 3 I bought more on the dip today. 5081 total. Price rose AH to $12.38 (2.15%)
NEW INFO 2 Here is the full webinar.
https://icrinc.zoom.us/rec/play/9GWKdmOYumjWfZuufW3QXpe_FW_g--qeNbg6PnTjTMbnNTgLmCbWjeRFpQga1iPc-elpGap8dnDv8Zww.yD7DjUwuPmapeEdP?continueMode=true&tk=lEYc4F_FkKlgsmCIs6w0gtGHT2kbgVGbUju3cIRBSjk.DQIAAAAV8NK49xZWdldRM2xNSFNQcTBmcE00UzM3bXh3AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA&uuid=WN_GKWqbHkeSyuWetJmLFkj4g&_x_zm_rtaid=kR45-uuqRE-L65AxLjpbQw.1611967079119.2c054e3d3f8d8e63339273d9175939ed&_x_zm_rhtaid=866
NEW INFO 1 Live merger webinar with PLBY and MCAC on Friday January 29, 2021 at 12:00 NOON EST link below
https://mcacquisition.com/investor-relations/press-release-details/2021/Playboy-Enterprises-Inc.-and-Mountain-Crest-Acquisition-Corp-Participate-in-SPACInsider-ICR-Webinar-on-January-29th-at-12pm-ET/default.aspx
Playboy going public: Porn, Gambling, and Cannabis
!!!WARNING READING AHEAD!!! TL;DR at the end. It will take some time to sort through all the links and read/watch everything, but you should.
In the next couple weeks, Mountain Crest Acquisition Corp is taking Playboy public. The existing ticker MCAC will become PLBY. Special purpose acquisition companies have taken private companies public in recent months with great success. I believe this will be no exception. Notably, Playboy is profitable and has skyrocketing revenue going into a transformational growth phase.
Porn - First and foremost, let's talk about porn. I know what you guys are thinking. “Porno mags are dead. Why would I want to invest in something like that? I can get porn for free online.” Guess what? You are absolutely right. And that’s exactly why Playboy doesn’t do that anymore. That’s right, they eliminated their print division. And yet they somehow STILL make money from porn that people (see: boomers) pay for on their website through PlayboyTV, Playboy Plus, and iPlayboy. Here’s the thing: Playboy has international, multi-generational name recognition from porn. They have content available in 180 countries. It will be the only publicly traded adult entertainment (porn) company. But that is not where this company is going. It will help support them along the way. You can see every Playboy magazine through iPlayboy if you’re interested. NSFW links below:
https://www.playboy.com/
https://www.playboytv.com/
https://www.playboyplus.com/
https://www.iplayboy.com/
Gambling - Some of you might recognize the Playboy brand from gambling trips to places like Las Vegas, Atlantic City, Cancun, London or Macau. They’ve been in the gambling biz for decades through their casinos, clubs, and licensed gaming products. They see the writing on the wall. COVID is accelerating the transition to digital, application based GAMBLING. That’s right. What we are doing on Robinhood with risky options is gambling, and the only reason regulators might give a shit anymore is because we are making too much money. There may be some restrictions put in place, but gambling from your phone on your couch is not going anywhere. More and more states are allowing things like Draftkings, poker, state ‘lottery” apps, hell - even political betting. Michigan and Virginia just ok’d gambling apps. They won’t be the last. This is all from your couch and any 18 year old with a cracked iphone can access it. Wouldn’t it be cool if Playboy was going to do something like that? They’re already working on it. As per CEO Ben Kohn who we will get to later, “...the company’s casino-style digital gaming products with Scientific Games and Microgaming continue to see significant global growth.” Honestly, I stopped researching Scientific Games' sports betting segment when I saw the word ‘omni-channel’. That told me all I needed to know about it’s success.
“Our SG Sports™ platform is an enhanced, omni-channel solution for online, self-service and retail fixed odds sports betting – from soccer to tennis, basketball, football, baseball, hockey, motor sports, racing and more.”
https://www.scientificgames.com/
https://www.microgaming.co.uk/
“This latter segment has become increasingly enticing for Playboy, and it said last week that it is considering new tie-ups that could include gaming operators like PointsBet and 888Holdings.”
https://calvinayre.com/2020/10/05/business/playboys-gaming-ops-could-get-a-boost-from-spac-purchase/
As per their SEC filing:
“Significant consumer engagement and spend with Playboy-branded gaming properties around the world, including with leading partners such as Microgaming, Scientific Games, and Caesar’s Entertainment, steers our investment in digital gaming, sports betting and other digital offerings to further support our commercial strategy to expand consumer spend with minimal marginal cost, and gain consumer data to inform go-to-market plans across categories.”
https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgadata/1803914/000110465921005986/tm2034213-12_defm14a.htm#tMDAA1
They are expanding into more areas of gaming/gambling, working with international players in the digital gaming/gambling arena, and a Playboy sportsbook is on the horizon.
https://www.playboy.com/read/the-pleasure-of-playing-with-yourself-mobile-gaming-in-the-covid-era
Cannabis - If you’ve ever read through a Playboy magazine, you know they’ve had a positive relationship with cannabis for many years. As of September 2020, Playboy has made a major shift into the cannabis space. Too good to be true you say? Check their website. Playboy currently sells a range of CBD products. This is a good sign. Federal hemp products, which these most likely are, can be mailed across state lines and most importantly for a company like Playboy, can operate through a traditional banking institution. CBD products are usually the first step towards the cannabis space for large companies. Playboy didn’t make these products themselves meaning they are working with a processor in the cannabis industry. Another good sign for future expansion. What else do they have for sale? Pipes, grinders, ashtrays, rolling trays, joint holders. Hmm. Ok. So it looks like they want to sell some shit. They probably don’t have an active interest in cannabis right? Think again:
https://www.forbes.com/sites/javierhasse/2020/09/24/playboy-gets-serious-about-cannabis-law-reform-advocacy-with-new-partnership-grants/?sh=62f044a65cea
“Taking yet another step into the cannabis space, Playboy will be announcing later on Thursday (September, 2020) that it is launching a cannabis law reform and advocacy campaign in partnership with National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML), Last Prisoner Project, Marijuana Policy Project, the Veterans Cannabis Project, and the Eaze Momentum Program.”
“According to information procured exclusively, the three-pronged campaign will focus on calling for federal legalization. The program also includes the creation of a mentorship plan, through which the Playboy Foundation will support entrepreneurs from groups that are underrepresented in the industry.” Remember that CEO Kohn from earlier? He wrote this recently:
https://medium.com/naked-open-letters-from-playboy/congress-must-pass-the-more-act-c867c35239ae
Seems like he really wants weed to be legal? Hmm wonder why? The writing's on the wall my friends. Playboy wants into the cannabis industry, they are making steps towards this end, and we have favorable conditions for legislative progress.
Don’t think branding your own cannabis line is profitable or worthwhile? Tell me why these 41 celebrity millionaires and billionaires are dummies. I’ll wait.
https://www.celebstoner.com/news/celebstoner-news/2019/07/12/top-celebrity-cannabis-brands/
Confirmation: I hear you. “This all seems pretty speculative. It would be wildly profitable if they pull this shift off. But how do we really know?” Watch this whole video:
https://finance.yahoo.com/video/playboy-ceo-telling-story-female-154907068.html
Man - this interview just gets my juices flowing. And highlights one of my favorite reasons for this play. They have so many different business avenues from which a catalyst could appear. I think paying attention, holding shares, and options on these staggered announcements over the next year is the way I am going to go about it. "There's definitely been a shift to direct-to-consumer," he (Kohn) said. "About 50 percent of our revenue today is direct-to-consumer, and that will continue to grow going forward.” “Kohn touted Playboy's portfolio of both digital and consumer products, with casino-style gaming, in particular, serving a crucial role under the company's new business model. Playboy also has its sights on the emerging cannabis market, from CBD products to marijuana products geared toward sexual health and pleasure.” "If THC does become legal in the United States, we have developed certain strains to enhance your sex life that we will launch," Kohn said. https://cheddar.com/media/playboy-goes-public-health-gaming-lifestyle-focus Oh? The CEO actually said it? Ok then. “We have developed certain strains…” They’re already working with growers on strains and genetics? Ok. There are several legal cannabis markets for those products right now, international and stateside. I expect Playboy licensed hemp and THC pre-rolls by EOY. Something like this: https://www.etsy.com/listing/842996758/10-playboy-pre-roll-tubes-limited?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=pre+roll+playboy&ref=sr_gallery-1-2&organic_search_click=1 Maintaining cannabis operations can be costly and a regulatory headache. Playboy’s licensing strategy allows them to pick successful, established partners and sidestep traditional barriers to entry. You know what I like about these new markets? They’re expanding. Worldwide. And they are going to be a bigger deal than they already are with or without Playboy. Who thinks weed and gambling are going away? Too many people like that stuff. These are easy markets. And Playboy is early enough to carve out their spot in each. Fuck it, read this too: https://www.forbes.com/sites/jimosman/2020/10/20/playboy-could-be-the-king-of-spacs-here-are-three-picks/?sh=2e13dcaa3e05
Numbers: You want numbers? I got numbers. As per the company’s most recent SEC filing:
“For the year ended December 31, 2019, and the nine months ended September 30, 2020, Playboy’s historical consolidated revenue was $78.1 million and $101.3 million, respectively, historical consolidated net income (loss) was $(23.6) million and $(4.8) million, respectively, and Adjusted EBITDA was $13.1 million and $21.8 million, respectively.”
“In the nine months ended September 30, 2020, Playboy’s Licensing segment contributed $44.2 million in revenue and $31.1 million in net income.”
“In the ninth months ended September 30, 2020, Playboy’s Direct-to-Consumer segment contributed $40.2 million in revenue and net income of $0.1 million.”
“In the nine months ended September 30, 2020, Playboy’s Digital Subscriptions and Content segment contributed $15.4 million in revenue and net income of $7.4 million.”
They are profitable across all three of their current business segments.
“Playboy’s return to the public markets presents a transformed, streamlined and high-growth business. The Company has over $400 million in cash flows contracted through 2029, sexual wellness products available for sale online and in over 10,000 major retail stores in the US, and a growing variety of clothing and branded lifestyle and digital gaming products.”
https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgadata/1803914/000110465921005986/tm2034213-12_defm14a.htm#tSHCF
Growth: Playboy has massive growth in China and massive growth potential in India. “In China, where Playboy has spent more than 25 years building its business, our licensees have an enormous footprint of nearly 2,500 brick and mortar stores and 1,000 ecommerce stores selling high quality, Playboy-branded men’s casual wear, shoes/footwear, sleepwear, swimwear, formal suits, leather & non-leather goods, sweaters, active wear, and accessories. We have achieved significant growth in China licensing revenues over the past several years in partnership with strong licensees and high-quality manufacturers, and we are planning for increased growth through updates to our men’s fashion lines and expansion into adjacent categories in men’s skincare and grooming, sexual wellness, and women’s fashion, a category where recent launches have been well received.” The men’s market in China is about the same size as the entire population of the United States and European Union combined. Playboy is a leading brand in this market. They are expanding into the women’s market too. Did you know CBD toothpaste is huge in China? China loves CBD products and has hemp fields that dwarf those in the US. If Playboy expands their CBD line China it will be huge. Did you know the gambling money in Macau absolutely puts Las Vegas to shame? Technically, it's illegal on the mainland, but in reality, there is a lot of gambling going on in China. https://www.forbes.com/sites/javierhasse/2020/10/19/magic-johnson-and-uncle-buds-cbd-brand-enter-china-via-tmall-partnership/?sh=271776ca411e “In India, Playboy today has a presence through select apparel licensees and hospitality establishments. Consumer research suggests significant growth opportunities in the territory with Playboy’s brand and categories of focus.” “Playboy Enterprises has announced the expansion of its global consumer products business into India as part of a partnership with Jay Jay Iconic Brands, a leading fashion and lifestyle Company in India.” “The Indian market today is dominated by consumers under the age of 35, who represent more than 65 percent of the country’s total population and are driving India’s significant online shopping growth. The Playboy brand’s core values of playfulness and exploration resonate strongly with the expressed desires of today’s younger millennial consumers. For us, Playboy was the perfect fit.” “The Playboy international portfolio has been flourishing for more than 25 years in several South Asian markets such as China and Japan. In particular, it has strategically targeted the millennial and gen-Z audiences across categories such as apparel, footwear, home textiles, eyewear and watches.” https://www.licenseglobal.com/industry-news/playboy-expands-global-footprint-india It looks like they gave COVID the heisman in terms of net damage sustained: “Although Playboy has not suffered any material adverse consequences to date from the COVID-19 pandemic, the business has been impacted both negatively and positively. The remote working and stay-at-home orders resulted in the closure of the London Playboy Club and retail stores of Playboy’s licensees, decreasing licensing revenues in the second quarter, as well as causing supply chain disruption and less efficient product development thereby slowing the launch of new products. However, these negative impacts were offset by an increase in Yandy’s direct-to-consumer sales, which have benefited in part from overall increases in online retail sales so far during the pandemic.” Looks like the positives are long term (Yandy acquisition) and the negatives are temporary (stay-at-home orders).
https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgadata/1803914/000110465921006093/tm213766-1_defa14a.htm
This speaks to their ability to maintain a financially solvent company throughout the transition phase to the aforementioned areas. They’d say some fancy shit like “expanded business model to encompass four key revenue streams: Sexual Wellness, Style & Apparel, Gaming & Lifestyle, and Beauty & Grooming.” I hear “we’re just biding our time with these trinkets until those dollar dollar bill y’all markets are fully up and running.” But the truth is these existing revenue streams are profitable, scalable, and rapidly expanding Playboy’s e-commerce segment around the world.
"Even in the face of COVID this year, we've been able to grow EBITDA over 100 percent and revenue over 68 percent, and I expect that to accelerate going into 2021," he said. “Playboy is accelerating its growth in company-owned and branded consumer products in attractive and expanding markets in which it has a proven history of brand affinity and consumer spend.”
Also in the SEC filing, the Time Frame:
“As we detailed in the definitive proxy statement, the SPAC stockholder meeting to vote on the transaction has been set for February 9th, and, subject to stockholder approval and satisfaction of the other closing conditions, we expect to complete the merger and begin trading on NASDAQ under ticker PLBY shortly thereafter,” concluded Kohn.
The Players: Suhail “The Whale” Rizvi (HMFIC), Ben “The Bridge” Kohn (CEO), “lil” Suying Liu & “Big” Dong Liu (Young-gun China gang). I encourage you to look these folks up. The real OG here is Suhail Rizvi. He’s from India originally and Chairman of the Board for the new PLBY company. He was an early investor in Twitter, Square, Facebook and others. His firm, Rizvi Traverse, currently invests in Instacart, Pinterest, Snapchat, Playboy, and SpaceX. Maybe you’ve heard of them. “Rizvi, who owns a sprawling three-home compound in Greenwich, Connecticut, and a 1.65-acre estate in Palm Beach, Florida, near Bill Gates and Michael Bloomberg, moved to Iowa Falls when he was five. His father was a professor of psychology at Iowa. Along with his older brother Ashraf, a hedge fund manager, Rizvi graduated from Wharton business school.” “Suhail Rizvi: the 47-year-old 'unsocial' social media baron: When Twitter goes public in the coming weeks (2013), one of the biggest winners will be a 47-year-old financier who guards his secrecy so zealously that he employs a person to take down his Wikipedia entry and scrub his photos from the internet. In IPO, Twitter seeks to be 'anti-FB'” “Prince Alwaleed bin Talal of Saudi Arabia looks like a big Twitter winner. So do the moneyed clients of Jamie Dimon. But as you’ve-got-to-be-joking wealth washed over Twitter on Thursday — a company that didn’t exist eight years ago was worth $31.7 billion after its first day on the stock market — the non-boldface name of the moment is Suhail R. Rizvi. Mr. Rizvi, 47, runs a private investment company that is the largest outside investor in Twitter with a 15.6 percent stake worth $3.8 billion at the end of trading on Thursday (November, 2013). Using a web of connections in the tech industry and in finance, as well as a hearty dose of good timing, he brought many prominent names in at the ground floor, including the Saudi prince and some of JPMorgan’s wealthiest clients.” https://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/08/technology/at-twitter-working-behind-the-scenes-toward-a-billion-dollar-payday.html Y’all like that Arab money? How about a dude that can call up Saudi Princes and convince them to spend? Funniest shit about I read about him: “Rizvi was able to buy only $100 million in Facebook shortly before its IPO, thus limiting his returns, according to people with knowledge of the matter.” Poor guy :(
He should be fine with the 16 million PLBY shares he's going to have though :)
Shuhail also has experience in the entertainment industry. He’s invested in companies like SESAC, ICM, and Summit Entertainment. He’s got Hollywood connections to blast this stuff post-merger. And he’s at least partially responsible for that whole Twilight thing. I’m team Edward btw.
I really like what Suhail has done so far. He’s lurked in the shadows while Kohn is consolidating the company, trimming the fat, making Playboy profitable, and aiming the ship at modern growing markets.
https://www.reuters.com/article/us-twitter-ipo-rizvi-insight/insight-little-known-hollywood-investor-poised-to-score-with-twitter-ipo-idUSBRE9920VW20131003
Ben “The Bridge” Kohn is an interesting guy. He’s the connection between Rizvi Traverse and Playboy. He’s both CEO of Playboy and was previously Managing Partner at Rizvi Traverse. Ben seems to be the voice of the Playboy-Rizvi partnership, which makes sense with Suhail’s privacy concerns. Kohn said this:
“Today is a very big day for all of us at Playboy and for all our partners globally. I stepped into the CEO role at Playboy in 2017 because I saw the biggest opportunity of my career. Playboy is a brand and platform that could not be replicated today. It has massive global reach, with more than $3B of global consumer spend and products sold in over 180 countries. Our mission – to create a culture where all people can pursue pleasure – is rooted in our 67-year history and creates a clear focus for our business and role we play in people’s lives, providing them with the products, services and experiences that create a lifestyle of pleasure. We are taking this step into the public markets because the committed capital will enable us to accelerate our product development and go-to-market strategies and to more rapidly build our direct to consumer capabilities,” said Ben Kohn, CEO of Playboy.
“Playboy today is a highly profitable commerce business with a total addressable market projected in the trillions of dollars,” Mr. Kohn continued, “We are actively selling into the Sexual Wellness consumer category, projected to be approximately $400 billion in size by 2024, where our recently launched intimacy products have rolled out to more than 10,000 stores at major US retailers in the United States. Combined with our owned & operated ecommerce Sexual Wellness initiatives, the category will contribute more than 40% of our revenue this year. In our Apparel and Beauty categories, our collaborations with high-end fashion brands including Missguided and PacSun are projected to achieve over $50M in retail sales across the US and UK this year, our leading men’s apparel lines in China expanded to nearly 2500 brick and mortar stores and almost 1000 digital stores, and our new men’s and women’s fragrance line recently launched in Europe. In Gaming, our casino-style digital gaming products with Scientific Games and Microgaming continue to see significant global growth. Our product strategy is informed by years of consumer data as we actively expand from a purely licensing model into owning and operating key high-growth product lines focused on driving profitability and consumer lifetime value. We are thrilled about the future of Playboy. Our foundation has been set to drive further growth and margin, and with the committed capital from this transaction and our more than $180M in NOLs, we will take advantage of the opportunity in front of us, building to our goal of $100M of adjusted EBITDA in 2025.”
https://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20201001005404/en/Playboy-to-Become-a-Public-Company
Also, according to their Form 4s, “Big” Dong Liu and “lil” Suying Liu just loaded up with shares last week. These guys are brothers and seem like the Chinese market connection. They are only 32 & 35 years old. I don’t even know what that means, but it's provocative.
https://www.secform4.com/insider-trading/1832415.htm
https://finance.yahoo.com/news/mountain-crest-acquisition-corp-ii-002600994.html
Y’all like that China money?
“Mr. Liu has been the Chief Financial Officer of Dongguan Zhishang Photoelectric Technology Co., Ltd., a regional designer, manufacturer and distributor of LED lights serving commercial customers throughout Southern China since November 2016, at which time he led a syndicate of investments into the firm. Mr. Liu has since overseen the financials of Dongguan Zhishang as well as provided strategic guidance to its board of directors, advising on operational efficiency and cash flow performance. From March 2010 to October 2016, Mr. Liu was the Head of Finance at Feidiao Electrical Group Co., Ltd., a leading Chinese manufacturer of electrical outlets headquartered in Shanghai and with businesses in the greater China region as well as Europe.”
Dr. Suying Liu, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Mountain Crest Acquisition Corp., commented, “Playboy is a unique and compelling investment opportunity, with one of the world’s largest and most recognized brands, its proven consumer affinity and spend, and its enormous future growth potential in its four product segments and new and existing geographic regions. I am thrilled to be partnering with Ben and his exceptional team to bring his vision to fruition.”
https://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20201001005404/en/Playboy-to-Become-a-Public-Company
These guys are good. They have a proven track record of success across multiple industries. Connections and money run deep with all of these guys. I don’t think they’re in the game to lose.
I was going to write a couple more paragraphs about why you should have a look at this but really the best thing you can do is read this SEC filing from a couple days ago. It explains the situation in far better detail. Specifically, look to page 137 and read through their strategy. Also, look at their ownership percentages and compensation plans including the stock options and their prices. The financials look great, revenue is up 90% Q3, and it looks like a bright future.
https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgadata/1803914/000110465921005986/tm2034213-12_defm14a.htm#tSHCF
I’m hesitant to attach this because his position seems short term, but I’m going to with a warning because he does hit on some good points (two are below his link) and he’s got a sizable position in this thing (500k+ on margin, I think). I don’t know this guy but he did look at the same publicly available info and make roughly the same prediction, albeit without the in depth gambling or cannabis mention. You can also search reddit for ‘MCAC’ and very few relevant results come up and none of them even come close to really looking at this thing.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1gOvAd6lebs452hFlWWbxVjQ3VMsjGBkbJeXRwDwIJfM/edit?usp=sharing
“Also, before you people start making claims that Playboy is a “boomer” company, STOP RIGHT THERE. This is not a good argument. Simply put. The only thing that matters is Playboy’s name recognition, not their archaic business model which doesn’t even exist anymore as they have completely repurposed their business.”
“Imagine not buying $MCAC at a 400M valuation lol. Streetwear department is worth 1B alone imo.”
Considering the ridiculous Chinese growth as a lifestyle brand, he’s not wrong.
Current Cultural Significance and Meme Value: A year ago I wouldn’t have included this section but the events from the last several weeks (even going back to tsla) have proven that a company’s ability to meme and/or gain social network popularity can have an effect. Tik-tok, Snapchat, Twitch, Reddit, Youtube, Facebook, Twitter. They all have Playboy stuff on them. Kids in middle and highschool know what Playboy is but will likely never see or touch one of the magazines in person. They’ll have a Playboy hoodie though. Crazy huh? A lot like GME, PLBY would hugely benefit from meme-value stock interest to drive engagement towards their new business model while also building strategic coffers. This interest may not directly and/or significantly move the stock price but can generate significant interest from larger players who will.
Bull Case: The year is 2025. Playboy is now the world leader pleasure brand. They began by offering Playboy licensed gaming products, including gambling products, direct to consumers through existing names. By 2022, demand has skyrocketed and Playboy has designed and released their own gambling platforms. In 2025, they are also a leading cannabis brand in the United States and Canada with proprietary strains and products geared towards sexual wellness. Cannabis was legalized in the US in 2023 when President Biden got glaucoma but had success with cannabis treatment. He personally pushes for cannabis legalization as he steps out of office after his first term. Playboy has also grown their brand in China and India to multi-billion per year markets. The stock goes up from 11ish to 100ish and everyone makes big gains buying somewhere along the way.
Bear Case: The United States does a complete 180 on marijuana and gambling. President Biden overdoses on marijuana in the Lincoln bedroom when his FDs go tits up and he loses a ton of money in his sports book app after the Fighting Blue Hens narrowly lose the National Championship to Bama. Playboy is unable to expand their cannabis and gambling brands but still does well with their worldwide lifestyle brand. They gain and lose some interest in China and India but the markets are too large to ignore them completely. The stock goes up from 11ish to 13ish and everyone makes 15-20% gains.
TL;DR: Successful technology/e-commerce investment firm took over Playboy to turn it into a porn, online gambling/gaming, sports book, cannabis company, worldwide lifestyle brand that promotes sexual wellness, vetern access, women-ownership, minority-ownership, and “pleasure for all”. Does a successful online team reinventing an antiquated physical copy giant sound familiar? No options yet, shares only for now. $11.38 per share at time of writing. My guess? $20 by the end of February. $50 by EOY. This is not financial advice. I am not qualified to give financial advice. I’m just sayin’ I would personally use a Playboy sports book app while smoking a Playboy strain specific joint and it would be cool if they did that. Do your own research. You’d probably want to start here:
WARNING - POTENTIALLY NSFW - SEXY MODELS AHEAD - no actual nudity though
https://s26.q4cdn.com/895475556/files/doc_presentations/Playboy-Craig-Hallum-Conference-Investor-Presentation-11_17_20-compressed.pdf
Or here:
https://www.mcacquisition.com/investor-relations/default.aspx
Jimmy Chill: “Get into any SPAC at $10 or $11 and you are going to make money.”
STL;DR: Buy MCAC. MCAC > PLBY couple weeks. Rocketship. Moon.
Position: 5000 shares. I will buy short, medium, and long-dated calls once available.

Growing up, I didn’t have the best childhood. My parents were both ill, and I was told numerous times that my father was abusive. I later found out that was not the case. My mother, a psychiatrist, was ironically a depressed person who self-harmed. I guess she had an easier time pinning the blame for the cuts and bruises on her skin on my openly insane father. Thinking about it, it’s pretty funny that a person who helps others overcome their mental ailments cannot admit her own to her own child.
My father was terribly ill when I was a kid, and until I was about ten, he had been medicated. However, at some point, he gave up on taking his medication. I never bothered asking why. I honestly didn’t care. All I cared about was not having to deal with parents that constantly fight over every little thing. My father’s illness made him act strange, but he was rather harmless – just odd. He’d speak weird or have random bursts of panic and withdrawn behavior. Other than that, I don’t remember much about him.
When things started “getting ugly” my parents sent me away to live with my paternal grandfather. He lived in the same town, so it wasn’t a big move, and for as long as I remember. Grandpa Stan was the coolest man ever. He might’ve been in his sixties in my earliest memories of him, but boy, he was probably the fittest man I’ve ever met. Not to mention he was fairly lively and in touch with his “inner child” as he liked to call it. I guess my grandma dying young from cancer had a profound effect on him. He wanted to live for long as he could. I loved grandpops like I loved nobody else.
I remember the way he smiled when my mom told him I was going to stay with him “for a while” as she put it back in early 93’. I didn’t really object to the idea of staying with my cool grandfather, away from the painful parental fights at home. I got to keep all the benefits of staying in town while being away from home. Who wouldn’t want that?
We played a lot of field hockey during the five years I’ve spent at gramps’. He was a huge fan of hockey, apparently played in his youth a lot. For a man who had both of his knees replaced due to years of wear and tear he was surprisingly mobile on his feet. He could probably still play in the NHL and make a good buck if he wanted to.
I remember when I turned thirteen, he gave me my first “adult comic book”. The first issue of Watchmen. Gramps was an avid collector of comic books. He had a whole wall lined with various books, spanning multiple companies and even languages. I remember how he sat me down after school that day, telling me that he had a special gift for me now that I’ve become a man. I sat in his kitchen, on an old wooden handcrafted chair eagerly awaiting this special gift, butterflies flying in my stomach waiting to burst out. He came back sporting a grin on his face with this comic book in his hand. He handed me the book, and I remember looking at it for a moment before opening the thing and riff-raffing through the pages. The dark colors, the graphic violence, the unusually serious and painfully realistic “superheroes”. I was blown away by it all. At the time, I didn’t understand the full depth of the story like I do now, but still. I loved every little thing about this comic. It’s my favorite to this day.
I wore a Nite Owl costume for Halloween that year, handmade by Grandpa Stan. He could do it all. Clean, sew, knit, fix anything around the house. Don’t get me started on his cooking – the man would cook like a culinary god. I swear, eleven old me hated vegetables. A month after eating Gramps’ dishes, I could eat salads all day, every day.
At sixteen, he gave me my first taste of alcohol, some Polish vodka of a brand whose name I couldn’t care enough to remember. I wasn’t one of those kids that partied a lot or anything like that. I certainly had my fair share of friends, and I’d like to believe I was well-liked, but I stayed away from trouble. He sat me down one Friday evening after I had come back from school and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Told me we’re going to drink together. He explained to me that drinking together is one of the best shows of love and respect between men. A gesture that creates a familial bond between them. I sat there, listening, letting all of that wisdom sink in. He wasn’t wrong. Drinking is a great way to spend your time with the people you love. As he would say, if you wake up feeling good in the morning after a night of drinking, your night wasn’t very successful.
Gramps poured the sharp smelling clear liquid into a cup and handed it to me. Then he poured one to himself and made a toast for my future, and we downed his liquor. Me, being clueless, I followed suit, but instead of drinking it all in a single gulp, I sipped on the vodka slowly. The liquid scorched my mouth and throat. It tasted like shit and made me cough half of the shot all over myself. I heard Gramps laugh like a madman before he told me I should down the whole thing without quickly. That is, before he offered me a piece of marinated herring. That night was a good one. I woke up feeling awful the next morning, but I knew I had a great time the night before.
Gramps taught me a lot of stuff. He taught me how to be self-sufficient, how to drive a car. He also taught me how to be a decent person, how to take care of others and not be bothered by stupid things and stupid people. Grandpa Stan taught me how to live right, I guess. He was a great man. Throughout the six years, I’ve spent in his care. I infrequently communicated with my parents, and to be honest, I didn’t really mind. At first, my mom’s “everything is fine, honey” infuriated me because I knew nothing was fine with her and dad but then I stopped caring. I was too busy having a good time living.
For all the good stuff in Gramps’ house, there were a couple of odd things about him. He refused to close the windows at all times unless there was truly awful weather. He had excused it, saying he has a dear friend who lives in the forest and might want to visit. I never really believed that, and as I grew older, I came to think of it as a superstition he had brought with him from Europe. He also had that strange habit of sitting on his porch in the middle of the night. The one time I bothered asking him about it, he simply told me he was “enjoying some good company” before telling me I should get back to sleep.
I also have to mention that his house was this old hand made building not far from the local woods. It made some weird moaning noises every now and again in the winter, which at first freaked me out, but I later learned to ignore.
Anyhow, I finished high school and moved out of town for college. As the years rolled on and I grew more independent, I kind of drifted away from Grandpa, I was too preoccupied with my life to even notice that. We did keep in touch, but the conversations and visits became less and less frequent. You know how it goes. You get busy with a job, then end up starting your own family, and the more distant relatives kind of fade into the background. Not that my parents were anywhere near close to me. I found out my parents divorced only during my senior year in college. My dad caught off any and all ties with us and my mom, well I kind of reconnected with her just a few years ago. I now have my own children, and I’m trying my best to be a good father and husband. I think I’m doing fine for now. The last time I’ve spent more than a day around my grandfather was the week I got married. Obviously, we remained in touch, and my wife and I visited him every now and again.
A year ago, I received a letter from my father that Grandpa Stan passed away. It was short and merciless. “Hey son, I’m sending this to let you know my dear father passed away. The doctors said he died in his sleep from a stroke. Said it was calm on him”
I was pissed, I was shattered, I screamed at the top of my lungs and broke into tears. Scared the living hell out of my wife. She was shattered too, because she loved him nearly as much as I did.
I was hoping to be able to make it to his funeral, but I couldn’t reach out to my father. It turned out he moved quite a lot and couldn’t be located; he had no relatives with whom he was on speaking terms with. I felt almost betrayed, I was broken and sunk into a melancholy of sorts. Not being able to part with the man who practically raised me was awful, and while I started slipping up at work. I’d get sick every month or so. Nothing major, just the odd cold. I felt tired and kind of hollow on the inside for the longest time and kind of withdrew from my social life. Luckily, the family kept me on my feet. It took a while but eventually I recovered from my bad episode and accepted the fact that life must go on.
As hard as it sounds, that’s how it is, and that’s how Grandpa would’ve wanted it to be.
Just as it all seemed to get back on track, reality came down knocking me back down. Well, kind of. One night a couple of months ago, while it was still very much summer, a chilling breeze caressed my back as I was sleeping. It was so cold it felt like an icy hand tracing its way across my skin. I woke up, trembling. I tried moving, but couldn’t. I was frozen in place. The notion of sleep paralysis came to mind. I knew that whatever was going to happen was just a figment of my imagination, so I tried my best to stay calm.
That didn’t last long though, as the room started getting colder and colder. I could see vapor rising out of my mouth. That wasn’t a dream. The hairs on my body stood and my heart rate was definitely rising. I was faced with the open window, and the moon shone brightly into my face. Something was wrong, I tried making a sound but couldn’t, nothing but muffled choked noises came out of my throat.
I lied there, a prisoner in my own body as vines started crawling into my bedroom from the window. The more of them crawled, the faster my heartbeat became. Breathing became painful, and my chest was becoming sore. Soon enough, the vines formed the shape of something large. I tried moving, internally screaming and begging for my brain to unlock my body from its stasis. I was panicking as the vines took the shape of a man. It stood there, towering over my bed. Staring with its blank, eerie gray eyes into mine. The skin of its head was snow white and its face. It was painfully similar to that of my grandfather in his younger days. The thing had a collar of sorts made up of branches and twigs around its neck, and it had a wooden staff in its hand. A cloak of withering vines covered its form. We stared at each other for a few moments before it broke the silence.
It spoke with disdain; a tone of pure hatred was audible in its raspy voice. I couldn’t understand a word of what it was saying. I was just hoping that if this thing was corporeal, it wouldn’t hurt my family or me. The thing went on and on for a while, I could only make out one word it uttered. “Stanislaw.” My heart sank when I heard it and the creature must’ve felt it, somehow. It smiled and just walked across my bedroom and dissipated through the door, taking the frigid cold it brought with it. I was finally able to move once the thing was out of my sight. I gasped and inhaled a deep breath of air before jumping out of my bed. Morbid thoughts circulated in my mind. I bolted across the house, looking for the nightmarish creature. It was nowhere in sight. The kids were fast asleep in their rooms and once I was sure my family was safe, a different storm started forming in my head. That raspy voice it played over and over in my ears, that name… Stanislaw… Grandpa’s name. Something snapped in me and I… I’m not even sure why, I just got into my car and drove to his old house.
The whole way I kept hearing that raspy chant over and over, like a broken record, and I just got angrier with every passing moment. Maybe in some strange way, I was working myself up for something. I honestly had no idea of what to expect in Gramps’ old home.
Once I got there, I marched straight to the front door. The exterior seemed to be in pristine condition, as if someone was taking care of the place until recently. Seeing the surprisingly good condition of the old house, I snapped. I kicked down the door without warning. If there was anyone inside, I was going to drag them out. Then, I burst into the old house, a foul stench of rotten eggs and shit attacked my nostrils. Looking around, I didn’t find much at first. The interior was all over the place. Dust coated everything and spider webs hung from the ceiling. Everything seemed so dull and normal for an abandoned place. That is, until I made my way into gramps’ former bedroom. There, the stench was beyond unbearable. Covering my nose with my shirt, I pushed the old wooden door open. The motion caused the wood to creak, before the world came crashing down to a halt in front of my eyes.
Before me swung the lifeless body of my father, a rope tied tightly around his neck.
Below him, the poorly preserved body of my grandfather, dressed in all white… half-decayed…
I have no idea what had happened that night. I don’t know whether this was my grandfather’s ghost that came to me to tell me about the injustice done to his body, or this “friend” of his he mentioned when I was a kid. I don’t know, maybe it was just my imagination… Maybe it was just a dream… I don’t know… Honestly, I don’t really care. Whatever it was, it helped me put my gramps to proper rest.
We may never know for sure, but it seems like my father couldn’t handle the loneliness after Gramps passed. He must’ve sunk further into the abyss that is madness, before finally ending his own life.
Now they’re both buried in the same cemetery, a few short yards apart, but I’ll be visiting only one of them every now and again. Rest in Peace, Grandpa Stan. You’ve earned it.

Growing up, I didn’t have the best childhood. My parents were both ill, and I was told numerous times that my father was abusive. I later found out that was not the case. My mother, a psychiatrist, was ironically a depressed person who self-harmed. I guess she had an easier time pinning the blame for the cuts and bruises on her skin on my openly insane father. Thinking about it, it’s pretty funny that a person who helps others overcome their mental ailments cannot admit her own to her own child.
My father was terribly ill when I was a kid, and until I was about ten, he had been medicated. However, at some point, he gave up on taking his medication. I never bothered asking why. I honestly didn’t care. All I cared about was not having to deal with parents that constantly fight over every little thing. My father’s illness made him act strange, but he was rather harmless – just odd. He’d speak weird or have random bursts of panic and withdrawn behavior. Other than that, I don’t remember much about him.
When things started “getting ugly” my parents sent me away to live with my paternal grandfather. He lived in the same town, so it wasn’t a big move, and for as long as I remember. Grandpa Stan was the coolest man ever. He might’ve been in his sixties in my earliest memories of him, but boy, he was probably the fittest man I’ve ever met. Not to mention he was fairly lively and in touch with his “inner child” as he liked to call it. I guess my grandma dying young from cancer had a profound effect on him. He wanted to live for long as he could. I loved grandpops like I loved nobody else.
I remember the way he smiled when my mom told him I was going to stay with him “for a while” as she put it back in early 93’. I didn’t really object to the idea of staying with my cool grandfather, away from the painful parental fights at home. I got to keep all the benefits of staying in town while being away from home. Who wouldn’t want that?
We played a lot of field hockey during the five years I’ve spent at gramps’. He was a huge fan of hockey, apparently played in his youth a lot. For a man who had both of his knees replaced due to years of wear and tear he was surprisingly mobile on his feet. He could probably still play in the NHL and make a good buck if he wanted to.
I remember when I turned thirteen, he gave me my first “adult comic book”. The first issue of Watchmen. Gramps was an avid collector of comic books. He had a whole wall lined with various books, spanning multiple companies and even languages. I remember how he sat me down after school that day, telling me that he had a special gift for me now that I’ve become a man. I sat in his kitchen, on an old wooden handcrafted chair eagerly awaiting this special gift, butterflies flying in my stomach waiting to burst out. He came back sporting a grin on his face with this comic book in his hand. He handed me the book, and I remember looking at it for a moment before opening the thing and riff-raffing through the pages. The dark colors, the graphic violence, the unusually serious and painfully realistic “superheroes”. I was blown away by it all. At the time, I didn’t understand the full depth of the story like I do now, but still. I loved every little thing about this comic. It’s my favorite to this day.
I wore a Nite Owl costume for Halloween that year, handmade by Grandpa Stan. He could do it all. Clean, sew, knit, fix anything around the house. Don’t get me started on his cooking – the man would cook like a culinary god. I swear, eleven old me hated vegetables. A month after eating Gramps’ dishes, I could eat salads all day, every day.
At sixteen, he gave me my first taste of alcohol, some Polish vodka of a brand whose name I couldn’t care enough to remember. I wasn’t one of those kids that partied a lot or anything like that. I certainly had my fair share of friends, and I’d like to believe I was well-liked, but I stayed away from trouble. He sat me down one Friday evening after I had come back from school and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Told me we’re going to drink together. He explained to me that drinking together is one of the best shows of love and respect between men. A gesture that creates a familial bond between them. I sat there, listening, letting all of that wisdom sink in. He wasn’t wrong. Drinking is a great way to spend your time with the people you love. As he would say, if you wake up feeling good in the morning after a night of drinking, your night wasn’t very successful.
Gramps poured the sharp smelling clear liquid into a cup and handed it to me. Then he poured one to himself and made a toast for my future, and we downed his liquor. Me, being clueless, I followed suit, but instead of drinking it all in a single gulp, I sipped on the vodka slowly. The liquid scorched my mouth and throat. It tasted like shit and made me cough half of the shot all over myself. I heard Gramps laugh like a madman before he told me I should down the whole thing without quickly. That is, before he offered me a piece of marinated herring. That night was a good one. I woke up feeling awful the next morning, but I knew I had a great time the night before.
Gramps taught me a lot of stuff. He taught me how to be self-sufficient, how to drive a car. He also taught me how to be a decent person, how to take care of others and not be bothered by stupid things and stupid people. Grandpa Stan taught me how to live right, I guess. He was a great man. Throughout the six years, I’ve spent in his care. I infrequently communicated with my parents, and to be honest, I didn’t really mind. At first, my mom’s “everything is fine, honey” infuriated me because I knew nothing was fine with her and dad but then I stopped caring. I was too busy having a good time living.
For all the good stuff in Gramps’ house, there were a couple of odd things about him. He refused to close the windows at all times unless there was truly awful weather. He had excused it, saying he has a dear friend who lives in the forest and might want to visit. I never really believed that, and as I grew older, I came to think of it as a superstition he had brought with him from Europe. He also had that strange habit of sitting on his porch in the middle of the night. The one time I bothered asking him about it, he simply told me he was “enjoying some good company” before telling me I should get back to sleep.
I also have to mention that his house was this old hand made building not far from the local woods. It made some weird moaning noises every now and again in the winter, which at first freaked me out, but I later learned to ignore.
Anyhow, I finished high school and moved out of town for college. As the years rolled on and I grew more independent, I kind of drifted away from Grandpa, I was too preoccupied with my life to even notice that. We did keep in touch, but the conversations and visits became less and less frequent. You know how it goes. You get busy with a job, then end up starting your own family, and the more distant relatives kind of fade into the background. Not that my parents were anywhere near close to me. I found out my parents divorced only during my senior year in college. My dad caught off any and all ties with us and my mom, well I kind of reconnected with her just a few years ago. I now have my own children, and I’m trying my best to be a good father and husband. I think I’m doing fine for now. The last time I’ve spent more than a day around my grandfather was the week I got married. Obviously, we remained in touch, and my wife and I visited him every now and again.
A year ago, I received a letter from my father that Grandpa Stan passed away. It was short and merciless. “Hey son, I’m sending this to let you know my dear father passed away. The doctors said he died in his sleep from a stroke. Said it was calm on him”
I was pissed, I was shattered, I screamed at the top of my lungs and broke into tears. Scared the living hell out of my wife. She was shattered too, because she loved him nearly as much as I did.
I was hoping to be able to make it to his funeral, but I couldn’t reach out to my father. It turned out he moved quite a lot and couldn’t be located; he had no relatives with whom he was on speaking terms with. I felt almost betrayed, I was broken and sunk into a melancholy of sorts. Not being able to part with the man who practically raised me was awful, and while I started slipping up at work. I’d get sick every month or so. Nothing major, just the odd cold. I felt tired and kind of hollow on the inside for the longest time and kind of withdrew from my social life. Luckily, the family kept me on my feet. It took a while but eventually I recovered from my bad episode and accepted the fact that life must go on.
As hard as it sounds, that’s how it is, and that’s how Grandpa would’ve wanted it to be.
Just as it all seemed to get back on track, reality came down knocking me back down. Well, kind of. One night a couple of months ago, while it was still very much summer, a chilling breeze caressed my back as I was sleeping. It was so cold it felt like an icy hand tracing its way across my skin. I woke up, trembling. I tried moving, but couldn’t. I was frozen in place. The notion of sleep paralysis came to mind. I knew that whatever was going to happen was just a figment of my imagination, so I tried my best to stay calm.
That didn’t last long though, as the room started getting colder and colder. I could see vapor rising out of my mouth. That wasn’t a dream. The hairs on my body stood and my heart rate was definitely rising. I was faced with the open window, and the moon shone brightly into my face. Something was wrong, I tried making a sound but couldn’t, nothing but muffled choked noises came out of my throat.
I lied there, a prisoner in my own body as vines started crawling into my bedroom from the window. The more of them crawled, the faster my heartbeat became. Breathing became painful, and my chest was becoming sore. Soon enough, the vines formed the shape of something large. I tried moving, internally screaming and begging for my brain to unlock my body from its stasis. I was panicking as the vines took the shape of a man. It stood there, towering over my bed. Staring with its blank, eerie gray eyes into mine. The skin of its head was snow white and its face. It was painfully similar to that of my grandfather in his younger days. The thing had a collar of sorts made up of branches and twigs around its neck, and it had a wooden staff in its hand. A cloak of withering vines covered its form. We stared at each other for a few moments before it broke the silence.
It spoke with disdain; a tone of pure hatred was audible in its raspy voice. I couldn’t understand a word of what it was saying. I was just hoping that if this thing was corporeal, it wouldn’t hurt my family or me. The thing went on and on for a while, I could only make out one word it uttered. “Stanislaw.” My heart sank when I heard it and the creature must’ve felt it, somehow. It smiled and just walked across my bedroom and dissipated through the door, taking the frigid cold it brought with it. I was finally able to move once the thing was out of my sight. I gasped and inhaled a deep breath of air before jumping out of my bed. Morbid thoughts circulated in my mind. I bolted across the house, looking for the nightmarish creature. It was nowhere in sight. The kids were fast asleep in their rooms and once I was sure my family was safe, a different storm started forming in my head. That raspy voice it played over and over in my ears, that name… Stanislaw… Grandpa’s name. Something snapped in me and I… I’m not even sure why, I just got into my car and drove to his old house.
The whole way I kept hearing that raspy chant over and over, like a broken record, and I just got angrier with every passing moment. Maybe in some strange way, I was working myself up for something. I honestly had no idea of what to expect in Gramps’ old home.
Once I got there, I marched straight to the front door. The exterior seemed to be in pristine condition, as if someone was taking care of the place until recently. Seeing the surprisingly good condition of the old house, I snapped. I kicked down the door without warning. If there was anyone inside, I was going to drag them out. Then, I burst into the old house, a foul stench of rotten eggs and shit attacked my nostrils. Looking around, I didn’t find much at first. The interior was all over the place. Dust coated everything and spider webs hung from the ceiling. Everything seemed so dull and normal for an abandoned place. That is, until I made my way into gramps’ former bedroom. There, the stench was beyond unbearable. Covering my nose with my shirt, I pushed the old wooden door open. The motion caused the wood to creak, before the world came crashing down to a halt in front of my eyes.
Before me swung the lifeless body of my father, a rope tied tightly around his neck.
Below him, the poorly preserved body of my grandfather, dressed in all white… half-decayed…
I have no idea what had happened that night. I don’t know whether this was my grandfather’s ghost that came to me to tell me about the injustice done to his body, or this “friend” of his he mentioned when I was a kid. I don’t know, maybe it was just my imagination… Maybe it was just a dream… I don’t know… Honestly, I don’t really care. Whatever it was, it helped me put my gramps to proper rest.
We may never know for sure, but it seems like my father couldn’t handle the loneliness after Gramps passed. He must’ve sunk further into the abyss that is madness, before finally ending his own life.
Now they’re both buried in the same cemetery, a few short yards apart, but I’ll be visiting only one of them every now and again. Rest in Peace, Grandpa Stan. You’ve earned it.

Growing up, I didn’t have the best childhood. My parents were both ill, and I was told numerous times that my father was abusive. I later found out that was not the case. My mother, a psychiatrist, was ironically a depressed person who self-harmed. I guess she had an easier time pinning the blame for the cuts and bruises on her skin on my openly insane father. Thinking about it, it’s pretty funny that a person who helps others overcome their mental ailments cannot admit her own to her own child.
My father was terribly ill when I was a kid, and until I was about ten, he had been medicated. However, at some point, he gave up on taking his medication. I never bothered asking why. I honestly didn’t care. All I cared about was not having to deal with parents that constantly fight over every little thing. My father’s illness made him act strange, but he was rather harmless – just odd. He’d speak weird or have random bursts of panic and withdrawn behavior. Other than that, I don’t remember much about him.
When things started “getting ugly” my parents sent me away to live with my paternal grandfather. He lived in the same town, so it wasn’t a big move, and for as long as I remember. Grandpa Stan was the coolest man ever. He might’ve been in his sixties in my earliest memories of him, but boy, he was probably the fittest man I’ve ever met. Not to mention he was fairly lively and in touch with his “inner child” as he liked to call it. I guess my grandma dying young from cancer had a profound effect on him. He wanted to live for long as he could. I loved grandpops like I loved nobody else.
I remember the way he smiled when my mom told him I was going to stay with him “for a while” as she put it back in early 93’. I didn’t really object to the idea of staying with my cool grandfather, away from the painful parental fights at home. I got to keep all the benefits of staying in town while being away from home. Who wouldn’t want that?
We played a lot of field hockey during the five years I’ve spent at gramps’. He was a huge fan of hockey, apparently played in his youth a lot. For a man who had both of his knees replaced due to years of wear and tear he was surprisingly mobile on his feet. He could probably still play in the NHL and make a good buck if he wanted to.
I remember when I turned thirteen, he gave me my first “adult comic book”. The first issue of Watchmen. Gramps was an avid collector of comic books. He had a whole wall lined with various books, spanning multiple companies and even languages. I remember how he sat me down after school that day, telling me that he had a special gift for me now that I’ve become a man. I sat in his kitchen, on an old wooden handcrafted chair eagerly awaiting this special gift, butterflies flying in my stomach waiting to burst out. He came back sporting a grin on his face with this comic book in his hand. He handed me the book, and I remember looking at it for a moment before opening the thing and riff-raffing through the pages. The dark colors, the graphic violence, the unusually serious and painfully realistic “superheroes”. I was blown away by it all. At the time, I didn’t understand the full depth of the story like I do now, but still. I loved every little thing about this comic. It’s my favorite to this day.
I wore a Nite Owl costume for Halloween that year, handmade by Grandpa Stan. He could do it all. Clean, sew, knit, fix anything around the house. Don’t get me started on his cooking – the man would cook like a culinary god. I swear, eleven old me hated vegetables. A month after eating Gramps’ dishes, I could eat salads all day, every day.
At sixteen, he gave me my first taste of alcohol, some Polish vodka of a brand whose name I couldn’t care enough to remember. I wasn’t one of those kids that partied a lot or anything like that. I certainly had my fair share of friends, and I’d like to believe I was well-liked, but I stayed away from trouble. He sat me down one Friday evening after I had come back from school and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Told me we’re going to drink together. He explained to me that drinking together is one of the best shows of love and respect between men. A gesture that creates a familial bond between them. I sat there, listening, letting all of that wisdom sink in. He wasn’t wrong. Drinking is a great way to spend your time with the people you love. As he would say, if you wake up feeling good in the morning after a night of drinking, your night wasn’t very successful.
Gramps poured the sharp smelling clear liquid into a cup and handed it to me. Then he poured one to himself and made a toast for my future, and we downed his liquor. Me, being clueless, I followed suit, but instead of drinking it all in a single gulp, I sipped on the vodka slowly. The liquid scorched my mouth and throat. It tasted like shit and made me cough half of the shot all over myself. I heard Gramps laugh like a madman before he told me I should down the whole thing without quickly. That is, before he offered me a piece of marinated herring. That night was a good one. I woke up feeling awful the next morning, but I knew I had a great time the night before.
Gramps taught me a lot of stuff. He taught me how to be self-sufficient, how to drive a car. He also taught me how to be a decent person, how to take care of others and not be bothered by stupid things and stupid people. Grandpa Stan taught me how to live right, I guess. He was a great man. Throughout the six years, I’ve spent in his care. I infrequently communicated with my parents, and to be honest, I didn’t really mind. At first, my mom’s “everything is fine, honey” infuriated me because I knew nothing was fine with her and dad but then I stopped caring. I was too busy having a good time living.
For all the good stuff in Gramps’ house, there were a couple of odd things about him. He refused to close the windows at all times unless there was truly awful weather. He had excused it, saying he has a dear friend who lives in the forest and might want to visit. I never really believed that, and as I grew older, I came to think of it as a superstition he had brought with him from Europe. He also had that strange habit of sitting on his porch in the middle of the night. The one time I bothered asking him about it, he simply told me he was “enjoying some good company” before telling me I should get back to sleep.
I also have to mention that his house was this old hand made building not far from the local woods. It made some weird moaning noises every now and again in the winter, which at first freaked me out, but I later learned to ignore.
Anyhow, I finished high school and moved out of town for college. As the years rolled on and I grew more independent, I kind of drifted away from Grandpa, I was too preoccupied with my life to even notice that. We did keep in touch, but the conversations and visits became less and less frequent. You know how it goes. You get busy with a job, then end up starting your own family, and the more distant relatives kind of fade into the background. Not that my parents were anywhere near close to me. I found out my parents divorced only during my senior year in college. My dad caught off any and all ties with us and my mom, well I kind of reconnected with her just a few years ago. I now have my own children, and I’m trying my best to be a good father and husband. I think I’m doing fine for now. The last time I’ve spent more than a day around my grandfather was the week I got married. Obviously, we remained in touch, and my wife and I visited him every now and again.
A year ago, I received a letter from my father that Grandpa Stan passed away. It was short and merciless. “Hey son, I’m sending this to let you know my dear father passed away. The doctors said he died in his sleep from a stroke. Said it was calm on him”
I was pissed, I was shattered, I screamed at the top of my lungs and broke into tears. Scared the living hell out of my wife. She was shattered too, because she loved him nearly as much as I did.
I was hoping to be able to make it to his funeral, but I couldn’t reach out to my father. It turned out he moved quite a lot and couldn’t be located; he had no relatives with whom he was on speaking terms with. I felt almost betrayed, I was broken and sunk into a melancholy of sorts. Not being able to part with the man who practically raised me was awful, and while I started slipping up at work. I’d get sick every month or so. Nothing major, just the odd cold. I felt tired and kind of hollow on the inside for the longest time and kind of withdrew from my social life. Luckily, the family kept me on my feet. It took a while but eventually I recovered from my bad episode and accepted the fact that life must go on.
As hard as it sounds, that’s how it is, and that’s how Grandpa would’ve wanted it to be.
Just as it all seemed to get back on track, reality came down knocking me back down. Well, kind of. One night a couple of months ago, while it was still very much summer, a chilling breeze caressed my back as I was sleeping. It was so cold it felt like an icy hand tracing its way across my skin. I woke up, trembling. I tried moving, but couldn’t. I was frozen in place. The notion of sleep paralysis came to mind. I knew that whatever was going to happen was just a figment of my imagination, so I tried my best to stay calm.
That didn’t last long though, as the room started getting colder and colder. I could see vapor rising out of my mouth. That wasn’t a dream. The hairs on my body stood and my heart rate was definitely rising. I was faced with the open window, and the moon shone brightly into my face. Something was wrong, I tried making a sound but couldn’t, nothing but muffled choked noises came out of my throat.
I lied there, a prisoner in my own body as vines started crawling into my bedroom from the window. The more of them crawled, the faster my heartbeat became. Breathing became painful, and my chest was becoming sore. Soon enough, the vines formed the shape of something large. I tried moving, internally screaming and begging for my brain to unlock my body from its stasis. I was panicking as the vines took the shape of a man. It stood there, towering over my bed. Staring with its blank, eerie gray eyes into mine. The skin of its head was snow white and its face. It was painfully similar to that of my grandfather in his younger days. The thing had a collar of sorts made up of branches and twigs around its neck, and it had a wooden staff in its hand. A cloak of withering vines covered its form. We stared at each other for a few moments before it broke the silence.
It spoke with disdain; a tone of pure hatred was audible in its raspy voice. I couldn’t understand a word of what it was saying. I was just hoping that if this thing was corporeal, it wouldn’t hurt my family or me. The thing went on and on for a while, I could only make out one word it uttered. “Stanislaw.” My heart sank when I heard it and the creature must’ve felt it, somehow. It smiled and just walked across my bedroom and dissipated through the door, taking the frigid cold it brought with it. I was finally able to move once the thing was out of my sight. I gasped and inhaled a deep breath of air before jumping out of my bed. Morbid thoughts circulated in my mind. I bolted across the house, looking for the nightmarish creature. It was nowhere in sight. The kids were fast asleep in their rooms and once I was sure my family was safe, a different storm started forming in my head. That raspy voice it played over and over in my ears, that name… Stanislaw… Grandpa’s name. Something snapped in me and I… I’m not even sure why, I just got into my car and drove to his old house.
The whole way I kept hearing that raspy chant over and over, like a broken record, and I just got angrier with every passing moment. Maybe in some strange way, I was working myself up for something. I honestly had no idea of what to expect in Gramps’ old home.
Once I got there, I marched straight to the front door. The exterior seemed to be in pristine condition, as if someone was taking care of the place until recently. Seeing the surprisingly good condition of the old house, I snapped. I kicked down the door without warning. If there was anyone inside, I was going to drag them out. Then, I burst into the old house, a foul stench of rotten eggs and shit attacked my nostrils. Looking around, I didn’t find much at first. The interior was all over the place. Dust coated everything and spider webs hung from the ceiling. Everything seemed so dull and normal for an abandoned place. That is, until I made my way into gramps’ former bedroom. There, the stench was beyond unbearable. Covering my nose with my shirt, I pushed the old wooden door open. The motion caused the wood to creak, before the world came crashing down to a halt in front of my eyes.
Before me swung the lifeless body of my father, a rope tied tightly around his neck.
Below him, the poorly preserved body of my grandfather, dressed in all white… half-decayed…
I have no idea what had happened that night. I don’t know whether this was my grandfather’s ghost that came to me to tell me about the injustice done to his body, or this “friend” of his he mentioned when I was a kid. I don’t know, maybe it was just my imagination… Maybe it was just a dream… I don’t know… Honestly, I don’t really care. Whatever it was, it helped me put my gramps to proper rest.
We may never know for sure, but it seems like my father couldn’t handle the loneliness after Gramps passed. He must’ve sunk further into the abyss that is madness, before finally ending his own life.
Now they’re both buried in the same cemetery, a few short yards apart, but I’ll be visiting only one of them every now and again. Rest in Peace, Grandpa Stan. You’ve earned it.

Growing up, I didn’t have the best childhood. My parents were both ill, and I was told numerous times that my father was abusive. I later found out that was not the case. My mother, a psychiatrist, was ironically a depressed person who self-harmed. I guess she had an easier time pinning the blame for the cuts and bruises on her skin on my openly insane father. Thinking about it, it’s pretty funny that a person who helps others overcome their mental ailments cannot admit her own to her own child.
​
My father was terribly ill when I was a kid, and until I was about ten, he had been medicated. However, at some point, he gave up on taking his medication. I never bothered asking why. I honestly didn’t care. All I cared about was not having to deal with parents that constantly fight over every little thing. My father’s illness made him act strange, but he was rather harmless – just odd. He’d speak weird or have random bursts of panic and withdrawn behavior. Other than that, I don’t remember much about him.
​
When things started “getting ugly” my parents sent me away to live with my paternal grandfather. He lived in the same town, so it wasn’t a big move, and for as long as I remember. Grandpa Stan was the coolest man ever. He might’ve been in his sixties in my earliest memories of him, but boy, he was probably the fittest man I’ve ever met. Not to mention he was fairly lively and in touch with his “inner child” as he liked to call it. I guess my grandma dying young from cancer had a profound effect on him. He wanted to live for long as he could. I loved grandpops like I loved nobody else.
​
I remember the way he smiled when my mom told him I was going to stay with him “for a while” as she put it back in early 93’. I didn’t really object to the idea of staying with my cool grandfather, away from the painful parental fights at home. I got to keep all the benefits of staying in town while being away from home. Who wouldn’t want that?
​
We played a lot of field hockey during the five years I’ve spent at gramps’. He was a huge fan of hockey, apparently played in his youth a lot. For a man who had both of his knees replaced due to years of wear and tear he was surprisingly mobile on his feet. He could probably still play in the NHL and make a good buck if he wanted to.
​
I remember when I turned thirteen, he gave me my first “adult comic book”. The first issue of Watchmen. Gramps was an avid collector of comic books. He had a whole wall lined with various books, spanning multiple companies and even languages. I remember how he sat me down after school that day, telling me that he had a special gift for me now that I’ve become a man. I sat in his kitchen, on an old wooden handcrafted chair eagerly awaiting this special gift, butterflies flying in my stomach waiting to burst out. He came back sporting a grin on his face with this comic book in his hand. He handed me the book, and I remember looking at it for a moment before opening the thing and riff-raffing through the pages. The dark colors, the graphic violence, the unusually serious and painfully realistic “superheroes”. I was blown away by it all. At the time, I didn’t understand the full depth of the story like I do now, but still. I loved every little thing about this comic. It’s my favorite to this day.
​
I wore a Nite Owl costume for Halloween that year, handmade by Grandpa Stan. He could do it all. Clean, sew, knit, fix anything around the house. Don’t get me started on his cooking – the man would cook like a culinary god. I swear, eleven old me hated vegetables. A month after eating Gramps’ dishes, I could eat salads all day, every day.
​
At sixteen, he gave me my first taste of alcohol, some Polish vodka of a brand whose name I couldn’t care enough to remember. I wasn’t one of those kids that partied a lot or anything like that. I certainly had my fair share of friends, and I’d like to believe I was well-liked, but I stayed away from trouble. He sat me down one Friday evening after I had come back from school and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Told me we’re going to drink together. He explained to me that drinking together is one of the best shows of love and respect between men. A gesture that creates a familial bond between them. I sat there, listening, letting all of that wisdom sink in. He wasn’t wrong. Drinking is a great way to spend your time with the people you love. As he would say, if you wake up feeling good in the morning after a night of drinking, your night wasn’t very successful.
​
Gramps poured the sharp smelling clear liquid into a cup and handed it to me. Then he poured one to himself and made a toast for my future, and we downed his liquor. Me, being clueless, I followed suit, but instead of drinking it all in a single gulp, I sipped on the vodka slowly. The liquid scorched my mouth and throat. It tasted like shit and made me cough half of the shot all over myself. I heard Gramps laugh like a madman before he told me I should down the whole thing without quickly. That is, before he offered me a piece of marinated herring. That night was a good one. I woke up feeling awful the next morning, but I knew I had a great time the night before.
​
Gramps taught me a lot of stuff. He taught me how to be self-sufficient, how to drive a car. He also taught me how to be a decent person, how to take care of others and not be bothered by stupid things and stupid people. Grandpa Stan taught me how to live right, I guess. He was a great man. Throughout the six years, I’ve spent in his care. I infrequently communicated with my parents, and to be honest, I didn’t really mind. At first, my mom’s “everything is fine, honey” infuriated me because I knew nothing was fine with her and dad but then I stopped caring. I was too busy having a good time living.
​
For all the good stuff in Gramps’ house, there were a couple of odd things about him. He refused to close the windows at all times unless there was truly awful weather. He had excused it, saying he has a dear friend who lives in the forest and might want to visit. I never really believed that, and as I grew older, I came to think of it as a superstition he had brought with him from Europe. He also had that strange habit of sitting on his porch in the middle of the night. The one time I bothered asking him about it, he simply told me he was “enjoying some good company” before telling me I should get back to sleep.
​
I also have to mention that his house was this old hand made building not far from the local woods. It made some weird moaning noises every now and again in the winter, which at first freaked me out, but I later learned to ignore.
​
Anyhow, I finished high school and moved out of town for college. As the years rolled on and I grew more independent, I kind of drifted away from Grandpa, I was too preoccupied with my life to even notice that. We did keep in touch, but the conversations and visits became less and less frequent. You know how it goes. You get busy with a job, then end up starting your own family, and the more distant relatives kind of fade into the background. Not that my parents were anywhere near close to me. I found out my parents divorced only during my senior year in college. My dad caught off any and all ties with us and my mom, well I kind of reconnected with her just a few years ago. I now have my own children, and I’m trying my best to be a good father and husband. I think I’m doing fine for now. The last time I’ve spent more than a day around my grandfather was the week I got married. Obviously, we remained in touch, and my wife and I visited him every now and again.
​
A year ago, I received a letter from my father that Grandpa Stan passed away. It was short and merciless. “Hey son, I’m sending this to let you know my dear father passed away. The doctors said he died in his sleep from a stroke. Said it was calm on him”
​
I was pissed, I was shattered, I screamed at the top of my lungs and broke into tears. Scared the living hell out of my wife. She was shattered too, because she loved him nearly as much as I did.
​
I was hoping to be able to make it to his funeral, but I couldn’t reach out to my father. It turned out he moved quite a lot and couldn’t be located; he had no relatives with whom he was on speaking terms with. I felt almost betrayed, I was broken and sunk into a melancholy of sorts. Not being able to part with the man who practically raised me was awful, and while I started slipping up at work. I’d get sick every month or so. Nothing major, just the odd cold. I felt tired and kind of hollow on the inside for the longest time and kind of withdrew from my social life. Luckily, the family kept me on my feet. It took a while but eventually I recovered from my bad episode and accepted the fact that life must go on.
​
As hard as it sounds, that’s how it is, and that’s how Grandpa would’ve wanted it to be.
​
Just as it all seemed to get back on track, reality came down knocking me back down. Well, kind of. One night a couple of months ago, while it was still very much summer, a chilling breeze caressed my back as I was sleeping. It was so cold it felt like an icy hand tracing its way across my skin. I woke up, trembling. I tried moving, but couldn’t. I was frozen in place. The notion of sleep paralysis came to mind. I knew that whatever was going to happen was just a figment of my imagination, so I tried my best to stay calm.
​
That didn’t last long though, as the room started getting colder and colder. I could see vapor rising out of my mouth. That wasn’t a dream. The hairs on my body stood and my heart rate was definitely rising. I was faced with the open window, and the moon shone brightly into my face. Something was wrong, I tried making a sound but couldn’t, nothing but muffled choked noises came out of my throat.
​
I lied there, a prisoner in my own body as vines started crawling into my bedroom from the window. The more of them crawled, the faster my heartbeat became. Breathing became painful, and my chest was becoming sore. Soon enough, the vines formed the shape of something large. I tried moving, internally screaming and begging for my brain to unlock my body from its stasis. I was panicking as the vines took the shape of a man. It stood there, towering over my bed. Staring with its blank, eerie gray eyes into mine. The skin of its head was snow white and its face. It was painfully similar to that of my grandfather in his younger days. The thing had a collar of sorts made up of branches and twigs around its neck, and it had a wooden staff in its hand. A cloak of withering vines covered its form. We stared at each other for a few moments before it broke the silence.
​
It spoke with disdain; a tone of pure hatred was audible in its raspy voice. I couldn’t understand a word of what it was saying. I was just hoping that if this thing was corporeal, it wouldn’t hurt my family or me. The thing went on and on for a while, I could only make out one word it uttered. “Stanislaw.” My heart sank when I heard it and the creature must’ve felt it, somehow. It smiled and just walked across my bedroom and dissipated through the door, taking the frigid cold it brought with it. I was finally able to move once the thing was out of my sight. I gasped and inhaled a deep breath of air before jumping out of my bed. Morbid thoughts circulated in my mind. I bolted across the house, looking for the nightmarish creature. It was nowhere in sight. The kids were fast asleep in their rooms and once I was sure my family was safe, a different storm started forming in my head. That raspy voice it played over and over in my ears, that name… Stanislaw… Grandpa’s name. Something snapped in me and I… I’m not even sure why, I just got into my car and drove to his old house.
​
The whole way I kept hearing that raspy chant over and over, like a broken record, and I just got angrier with every passing moment. Maybe in some strange way, I was working myself up for something. I honestly had no idea of what to expect in Gramps’ old home.
​
Once I got there, I marched straight to the front door. The exterior seemed to be in pristine condition, as if someone was taking care of the place until recently. Seeing the surprisingly good condition of the old house, I snapped. I kicked down the door without warning. If there was anyone inside, I was going to drag them out. Then, I burst into the old house, a foul stench of rotten eggs and shit attacked my nostrils. Looking around, I didn’t find much at first. The interior was all over the place. Dust coated everything and spider webs hung from the ceiling. Everything seemed so dull and normal for an abandoned place. That is, until I made my way into gramps’ former bedroom. There, the stench was beyond unbearable. Covering my nose with my shirt, I pushed the old wooden door open. The motion caused the wood to creak, before the world came crashing down to a halt in front of my eyes.
​
Before me swung the lifeless body of my father, a rope tied tightly around his neck.
​
Below him, the poorly preserved body of my grandfather, dressed in all white… half-decayed…
​
I have no idea what had happened that night. I don’t know whether this was my grandfather’s ghost that came to me to tell me about the injustice done to his body, or this “friend” of his he mentioned when I was a kid. I don’t know, maybe it was just my imagination… Maybe it was just a dream… I don’t know… Honestly, I don’t really care. Whatever it was, it helped me put my gramps to proper rest.
​
We may never know for sure, but it seems like my father couldn’t handle the loneliness after Gramps passed. He must’ve sunk further into the abyss that is madness, before finally ending his own life.
​
Now they’re both buried in the same cemetery, a few short yards apart, but I’ll be visiting only one of them every now and again. Rest in Peace, Grandpa Stan. You’ve earned it.

Growing up, I didn’t have the best childhood. My parents were both ill, and I was told numerous times that my father was abusive. I later found out that was not the case. My mother, a psychiatrist, was ironically a depressed person who self-harmed. I guess she had an easier time pinning the blame for the cuts and bruises on her skin on my openly insane father. Thinking about it, it’s pretty funny that a person who helps others overcome their mental ailments cannot admit her own to her own child.
My father was terribly ill when I was a kid, and until I was about ten, he had been medicated. However, at some point, he gave up on taking his medication. I never bothered asking why. I honestly didn’t care. All I cared about was not having to deal with parents that constantly fight over every little thing. My father’s illness made him act strange, but he was rather harmless – just odd. He’d speak weird or have random bursts of panic and withdrawn behavior. Other than that, I don’t remember much about him.
When things started “getting ugly” my parents sent me away to live with my paternal grandfather. He lived in the same town, so it wasn’t a big move, and for as long as I remember. Grandpa Stan was the coolest man ever. He might’ve been in his sixties in my earliest memories of him, but boy, he was probably the fittest man I’ve ever met. Not to mention he was fairly lively and in touch with his “inner child” as he liked to call it. I guess my grandma dying young from cancer had a profound effect on him. He wanted to live for long as he could. I loved grandpops like I loved nobody else.
I remember the way he smiled when my mom told him I was going to stay with him “for a while” as she put it back in early 93’. I didn’t really object to the idea of staying with my cool grandfather, away from the painful parental fights at home. I got to keep all the benefits of staying in town while being away from home. Who wouldn’t want that?
We played a lot of field hockey during the five years I’ve spent at gramps’. He was a huge fan of hockey, apparently played in his youth a lot. For a man who had both of his knees replaced due to years of wear and tear he was surprisingly mobile on his feet. He could probably still play in the NHL and make a good buck if he wanted to.
I remember when I turned thirteen, he gave me my first “adult comic book”. The first issue of Watchmen. Gramps was an avid collector of comic books. He had a whole wall lined with various books, spanning multiple companies and even languages. I remember how he sat me down after school that day, telling me that he had a special gift for me now that I’ve become a man. I sat in his kitchen, on an old wooden handcrafted chair eagerly awaiting this special gift, butterflies flying in my stomach waiting to burst out. He came back sporting a grin on his face with this comic book in his hand. He handed me the book, and I remember looking at it for a moment before opening the thing and riff-raffing through the pages. The dark colors, the graphic violence, the unusually serious and painfully realistic “superheroes”. I was blown away by it all. At the time, I didn’t understand the full depth of the story like I do now, but still. I loved every little thing about this comic. It’s my favorite to this day.
I wore a Nite Owl costume for Halloween that year, handmade by Grandpa Stan. He could do it all. Clean, sew, knit, fix anything around the house. Don’t get me started on his cooking – the man would cook like a culinary god. I swear, eleven old me hated vegetables. A month after eating Gramps’ dishes, I could eat salads all day, every day.
At sixteen, he gave me my first taste of alcohol, some Polish vodka of a brand whose name I couldn’t care enough to remember. I wasn’t one of those kids that partied a lot or anything like that. I certainly had my fair share of friends, and I’d like to believe I was well-liked, but I stayed away from trouble. He sat me down one Friday evening after I had come back from school and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Told me we’re going to drink together. He explained to me that drinking together is one of the best shows of love and respect between men. A gesture that creates a familial bond between them. I sat there, listening, letting all of that wisdom sink in. He wasn’t wrong. Drinking is a great way to spend your time with the people you love. As he would say, if you wake up feeling good in the morning after a night of drinking, your night wasn’t very successful.
Gramps poured the sharp smelling clear liquid into a cup and handed it to me. Then he poured one to himself and made a toast for my future, and we downed his liquor. Me, being clueless, I followed suit, but instead of drinking it all in a single gulp, I sipped on the vodka slowly. The liquid scorched my mouth and throat. It tasted like shit and made me cough half of the shot all over myself. I heard Gramps laugh like a madman before he told me I should down the whole thing without quickly. That is, before he offered me a piece of marinated herring. That night was a good one. I woke up feeling awful the next morning, but I knew I had a great time the night before.
Gramps taught me a lot of stuff. He taught me how to be self-sufficient, how to drive a car. He also taught me how to be a decent person, how to take care of others and not be bothered by stupid things and stupid people. Grandpa Stan taught me how to live right, I guess. He was a great man. Throughout the six years, I’ve spent in his care. I infrequently communicated with my parents, and to be honest, I didn’t really mind. At first, my mom’s “everything is fine, honey” infuriated me because I knew nothing was fine with her and dad but then I stopped caring. I was too busy having a good time living.
For all the good stuff in Gramps’ house, there were a couple of odd things about him. He refused to close the windows at all times unless there was truly awful weather. He had excused it, saying he has a dear friend who lives in the forest and might want to visit. I never really believed that, and as I grew older, I came to think of it as a superstition he had brought with him from Europe. He also had that strange habit of sitting on his porch in the middle of the night. The one time I bothered asking him about it, he simply told me he was “enjoying some good company” before telling me I should get back to sleep.
I also have to mention that his house was this old hand made building not far from the local woods. It made some weird moaning noises every now and again in the winter, which at first freaked me out, but I later learned to ignore.
Anyhow, I finished high school and moved out of town for college. As the years rolled on and I grew more independent, I kind of drifted away from Grandpa, I was too preoccupied with my life to even notice that. We did keep in touch, but the conversations and visits became less and less frequent. You know how it goes. You get busy with a job, then end up starting your own family, and the more distant relatives kind of fade into the background. Not that my parents were anywhere near close to me. I found out my parents divorced only during my senior year in college. My dad caught off any and all ties with us and my mom, well I kind of reconnected with her just a few years ago. I now have my own children, and I’m trying my best to be a good father and husband. I think I’m doing fine for now. The last time I’ve spent more than a day around my grandfather was the week I got married. Obviously, we remained in touch, and my wife and I visited him every now and again.
A year ago, I received a letter from my father that Grandpa Stan passed away. It was short and merciless. “Hey son, I’m sending this to let you know my dear father passed away. The doctors said he died in his sleep from a stroke. Said it was calm on him”
I was pissed, I was shattered, I screamed at the top of my lungs and broke into tears. Scared the living hell out of my wife. She was shattered too, because she loved him nearly as much as I did.
I was hoping to be able to make it to his funeral, but I couldn’t reach out to my father. It turned out he moved quite a lot and couldn’t be located; he had no relatives with whom he was on speaking terms with. I felt almost betrayed, I was broken and sunk into a melancholy of sorts. Not being able to part with the man who practically raised me was awful, and while I started slipping up at work. I’d get sick every month or so. Nothing major, just the odd cold. I felt tired and kind of hollow on the inside for the longest time and kind of withdrew from my social life. Luckily, the family kept me on my feet. It took a while but eventually I recovered from my bad episode and accepted the fact that life must go on.
As hard as it sounds, that’s how it is, and that’s how Grandpa would’ve wanted it to be.
Just as it all seemed to get back on track, reality came down knocking me back down. Well, kind of. One night a couple of months ago, while it was still very much summer, a chilling breeze caressed my back as I was sleeping. It was so cold it felt like an icy hand tracing its way across my skin. I woke up, trembling. I tried moving, but couldn’t. I was frozen in place. The notion of sleep paralysis came to mind. I knew that whatever was going to happen was just a figment of my imagination, so I tried my best to stay calm.
That didn’t last long though, as the room started getting colder and colder. I could see vapor rising out of my mouth. That wasn’t a dream. The hairs on my body stood and my heart rate was definitely rising. I was faced with the open window, and the moon shone brightly into my face. Something was wrong, I tried making a sound but couldn’t, nothing but muffled choked noises came out of my throat.
I lied there, a prisoner in my own body as vines started crawling into my bedroom from the window. The more of them crawled, the faster my heartbeat became. Breathing became painful, and my chest was becoming sore. Soon enough, the vines formed the shape of something large. I tried moving, internally screaming and begging for my brain to unlock my body from its stasis. I was panicking as the vines took the shape of a man. It stood there, towering over my bed. Staring with its blank, eerie gray eyes into mine. The skin of its head was snow white and its face. It was painfully similar to that of my grandfather in his younger days. The thing had a collar of sorts made up of branches and twigs around its neck, and it had a wooden staff in its hand. A cloak of withering vines covered its form. We stared at each other for a few moments before it broke the silence.
It spoke with disdain; a tone of pure hatred was audible in its raspy voice. I couldn’t understand a word of what it was saying. I was just hoping that if this thing was corporeal, it wouldn’t hurt my family or me. The thing went on and on for a while, I could only make out one word it uttered. “Stanislaw.” My heart sank when I heard it and the creature must’ve felt it, somehow. It smiled and just walked across my bedroom and dissipated through the door, taking the frigid cold it brought with it. I was finally able to move once the thing was out of my sight. I gasped and inhaled a deep breath of air before jumping out of my bed. Morbid thoughts circulated in my mind. I bolted across the house, looking for the nightmarish creature. It was nowhere in sight. The kids were fast asleep in their rooms and once I was sure my family was safe, a different storm started forming in my head. That raspy voice it played over and over in my ears, that name… Stanislaw… Grandpa’s name. Something snapped in me and I… I’m not even sure why, I just got into my car and drove to his old house.
The whole way I kept hearing that raspy chant over and over, like a broken record, and I just got angrier with every passing moment. Maybe in some strange way, I was working myself up for something. I honestly had no idea of what to expect in Gramps’ old home.
Once I got there, I marched straight to the front door. The exterior seemed to be in pristine condition, as if someone was taking care of the place until recently. Seeing the surprisingly good condition of the old house, I snapped. I kicked down the door without warning. If there was anyone inside, I was going to drag them out. Then, I burst into the old house, a foul stench of rotten eggs and shit attacked my nostrils. Looking around, I didn’t find much at first. The interior was all over the place. Dust coated everything and spider webs hung from the ceiling. Everything seemed so dull and normal for an abandoned place. That is, until I made my way into gramps’ former bedroom. There, the stench was beyond unbearable. Covering my nose with my shirt, I pushed the old wooden door open. The motion caused the wood to creak, before the world came crashing down to a halt in front of my eyes.
Before me swung the lifeless body of my father, a rope tied tightly around his neck.
Below him, the poorly preserved body of my grandfather, dressed in all white… half-decayed…
I have no idea what had happened that night. I don’t know whether this was my grandfather’s ghost that came to me to tell me about the injustice done to his body, or this “friend” of his he mentioned when I was a kid. I don’t know, maybe it was just my imagination… Maybe it was just a dream… I don’t know… Honestly, I don’t really care. Whatever it was, it helped me put my gramps to proper rest.
We may never know for sure, but it seems like my father couldn’t handle the loneliness after Gramps passed. He must’ve sunk further into the abyss that is madness, before finally ending his own life.
Now they’re both buried in the same cemetery, a few short yards apart, but I’ll be visiting only one of them every now and again. Rest in Peace, Grandpa Stan. You’ve earned it.

Growing up, I didn’t have the best childhood. My parents were both ill, and I was told numerous times that my father was abusive. I later found out that was not the case. My mother, a psychiatrist, was ironically a depressed person who self-harmed. I guess she had an easier time pinning the blame for the cuts and bruises on her skin on my openly insane father. Thinking about it, it’s pretty funny that a person who helps others overcome their mental ailments cannot admit her own to her own child.
My father was terribly ill when I was a kid, and until I was about ten, he had been medicated. However, at some point, he gave up on taking his medication. I never bothered asking why. I honestly didn’t care. All I cared about was not having to deal with parents that constantly fight over every little thing. My father’s illness made him act strange, but he was rather harmless – just odd. He’d speak weird or have random bursts of panic and withdrawn behavior. Other than that, I don’t remember much about him.
When things started “getting ugly” my parents sent me away to live with my paternal grandfather. He lived in the same town, so it wasn’t a big move, and for as long as I remember. Grandpa Stan was the coolest man ever. He might’ve been in his sixties in my earliest memories of him, but boy, he was probably the fittest man I’ve ever met. Not to mention he was fairly lively and in touch with his “inner child” as he liked to call it. I guess my grandma dying young from cancer had a profound effect on him. He wanted to live for long as he could. I loved grandpops like I loved nobody else.
I remember the way he smiled when my mom told him I was going to stay with him “for a while” as she put it back in early 93’. I didn’t really object to the idea of staying with my cool grandfather, away from the painful parental fights at home. I got to keep all the benefits of staying in town while being away from home. Who wouldn’t want that?
We played a lot of field hockey during the five years I’ve spent at gramps’. He was a huge fan of hockey, apparently played in his youth a lot. For a man who had both of his knees replaced due to years of wear and tear he was surprisingly mobile on his feet. He could probably still play in the NHL and make a good buck if he wanted to.
I remember when I turned thirteen, he gave me my first “adult comic book”. The first issue of Watchmen. Gramps was an avid collector of comic books. He had a whole wall lined with various books, spanning multiple companies and even languages. I remember how he sat me down after school that day, telling me that he had a special gift for me now that I’ve become a man. I sat in his kitchen, on an old wooden handcrafted chair eagerly awaiting this special gift, butterflies flying in my stomach waiting to burst out. He came back sporting a grin on his face with this comic book in his hand. He handed me the book, and I remember looking at it for a moment before opening the thing and riff-raffing through the pages. The dark colors, the graphic violence, the unusually serious and painfully realistic “superheroes”. I was blown away by it all. At the time, I didn’t understand the full depth of the story like I do now, but still. I loved every little thing about this comic. It’s my favorite to this day.
I wore a Nite Owl costume for Halloween that year, handmade by Grandpa Stan. He could do it all. Clean, sew, knit, fix anything around the house. Don’t get me started on his cooking – the man would cook like a culinary god. I swear, eleven old me hated vegetables. A month after eating Gramps’ dishes, I could eat salads all day, every day.
At sixteen, he gave me my first taste of alcohol, some Polish vodka of a brand whose name I couldn’t care enough to remember. I wasn’t one of those kids that partied a lot or anything like that. I certainly had my fair share of friends, and I’d like to believe I was well-liked, but I stayed away from trouble. He sat me down one Friday evening after I had come back from school and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Told me we’re going to drink together. He explained to me that drinking together is one of the best shows of love and respect between men. A gesture that creates a familial bond between them. I sat there, listening, letting all of that wisdom sink in. He wasn’t wrong. Drinking is a great way to spend your time with the people you love. As he would say, if you wake up feeling good in the morning after a night of drinking, your night wasn’t very successful.
Gramps poured the sharp smelling clear liquid into a cup and handed it to me. Then he poured one to himself and made a toast for my future, and we downed his liquor. Me, being clueless, I followed suit, but instead of drinking it all in a single gulp, I sipped on the vodka slowly. The liquid scorched my mouth and throat. It tasted like shit and made me cough half of the shot all over myself. I heard Gramps laugh like a madman before he told me I should down the whole thing without quickly. That is, before he offered me a piece of marinated herring. That night was a good one. I woke up feeling awful the next morning, but I knew I had a great time the night before.
Gramps taught me a lot of stuff. He taught me how to be self-sufficient, how to drive a car. He also taught me how to be a decent person, how to take care of others and not be bothered by stupid things and stupid people. Grandpa Stan taught me how to live right, I guess. He was a great man. Throughout the six years, I’ve spent in his care. I infrequently communicated with my parents, and to be honest, I didn’t really mind. At first, my mom’s “everything is fine, honey” infuriated me because I knew nothing was fine with her and dad but then I stopped caring. I was too busy having a good time living.
For all the good stuff in Gramps’ house, there were a couple of odd things about him. He refused to close the windows at all times unless there was truly awful weather. He had excused it, saying he has a dear friend who lives in the forest and might want to visit. I never really believed that, and as I grew older, I came to think of it as a superstition he had brought with him from Europe. He also had that strange habit of sitting on his porch in the middle of the night. The one time I bothered asking him about it, he simply told me he was “enjoying some good company” before telling me I should get back to sleep.
I also have to mention that his house was this old hand made building not far from the local woods. It made some weird moaning noises every now and again in the winter, which at first freaked me out, but I later learned to ignore.
Anyhow, I finished high school and moved out of town for college. As the years rolled on and I grew more independent, I kind of drifted away from Grandpa, I was too preoccupied with my life to even notice that. We did keep in touch, but the conversations and visits became less and less frequent. You know how it goes. You get busy with a job, then end up starting your own family, and the more distant relatives kind of fade into the background. Not that my parents were anywhere near close to me. I found out my parents divorced only during my senior year in college. My dad caught off any and all ties with us and my mom, well I kind of reconnected with her just a few years ago. I now have my own children, and I’m trying my best to be a good father and husband. I think I’m doing fine for now. The last time I’ve spent more than a day around my grandfather was the week I got married. Obviously, we remained in touch, and my wife and I visited him every now and again.
A year ago, I received a letter from my father that Grandpa Stan passed away. It was short and merciless. “Hey son, I’m sending this to let you know my dear father passed away. The doctors said he died in his sleep from a stroke. Said it was calm on him”
I was pissed, I was shattered, I screamed at the top of my lungs and broke into tears. Scared the living hell out of my wife. She was shattered too, because she loved him nearly as much as I did.
I was hoping to be able to make it to his funeral, but I couldn’t reach out to my father. It turned out he moved quite a lot and couldn’t be located; he had no relatives with whom he was on speaking terms with. I felt almost betrayed, I was broken and sunk into a melancholy of sorts. Not being able to part with the man who practically raised me was awful, and while I started slipping up at work. I’d get sick every month or so. Nothing major, just the odd cold. I felt tired and kind of hollow on the inside for the longest time and kind of withdrew from my social life. Luckily, the family kept me on my feet. It took a while but eventually I recovered from my bad episode and accepted the fact that life must go on.
As hard as it sounds, that’s how it is, and that’s how Grandpa would’ve wanted it to be.
Just as it all seemed to get back on track, reality came down knocking me back down. Well, kind of. One night a couple of months ago, while it was still very much summer, a chilling breeze caressed my back as I was sleeping. It was so cold it felt like an icy hand tracing its way across my skin. I woke up, trembling. I tried moving, but couldn’t. I was frozen in place. The notion of sleep paralysis came to mind. I knew that whatever was going to happen was just a figment of my imagination, so I tried my best to stay calm.
That didn’t last long though, as the room started getting colder and colder. I could see vapor rising out of my mouth. That wasn’t a dream. The hairs on my body stood and my heart rate was definitely rising. I was faced with the open window, and the moon shone brightly into my face. Something was wrong, I tried making a sound but couldn’t, nothing but muffled choked noises came out of my throat.
I lied there, a prisoner in my own body as vines started crawling into my bedroom from the window. The more of them crawled, the faster my heartbeat became. Breathing became painful, and my chest was becoming sore. Soon enough, the vines formed the shape of something large. I tried moving, internally screaming and begging for my brain to unlock my body from its stasis. I was panicking as the vines took the shape of a man. It stood there, towering over my bed. Staring with its blank, eerie gray eyes into mine. The skin of its head was snow white and its face. It was painfully similar to that of my grandfather in his younger days. The thing had a collar of sorts made up of branches and twigs around its neck, and it had a wooden staff in its hand. A cloak of withering vines covered its form. We stared at each other for a few moments before it broke the silence.
It spoke with disdain; a tone of pure hatred was audible in its raspy voice. I couldn’t understand a word of what it was saying. I was just hoping that if this thing was corporeal, it wouldn’t hurt my family or me. The thing went on and on for a while, I could only make out one word it uttered. “Stanislaw.” My heart sank when I heard it and the creature must’ve felt it, somehow. It smiled and just walked across my bedroom and dissipated through the door, taking the frigid cold it brought with it. I was finally able to move once the thing was out of my sight. I gasped and inhaled a deep breath of air before jumping out of my bed. Morbid thoughts circulated in my mind. I bolted across the house, looking for the nightmarish creature. It was nowhere in sight. The kids were fast asleep in their rooms and once I was sure my family was safe, a different storm started forming in my head. That raspy voice it played over and over in my ears, that name… Stanislaw… Grandpa’s name. Something snapped in me and I… I’m not even sure why, I just got into my car and drove to his old house.
The whole way I kept hearing that raspy chant over and over, like a broken record, and I just got angrier with every passing moment. Maybe in some strange way, I was working myself up for something. I honestly had no idea of what to expect in Gramps’ old home.
Once I got there, I marched straight to the front door. The exterior seemed to be in pristine condition, as if someone was taking care of the place until recently. Seeing the surprisingly good condition of the old house, I snapped. I kicked down the door without warning. If there was anyone inside, I was going to drag them out. Then, I burst into the old house, a foul stench of rotten eggs and shit attacked my nostrils. Looking around, I didn’t find much at first. The interior was all over the place. Dust coated everything and spider webs hung from the ceiling. Everything seemed so dull and normal for an abandoned place. That is, until I made my way into gramps’ former bedroom. There, the stench was beyond unbearable. Covering my nose with my shirt, I pushed the old wooden door open. The motion caused the wood to creak, before the world came crashing down to a halt in front of my eyes.
Before me swung the lifeless body of my father, a rope tied tightly around his neck.
Below him, the poorly preserved body of my grandfather, dressed in all white… half-decayed…
I have no idea what had happened that night. I don’t know whether this was my grandfather’s ghost that came to me to tell me about the injustice done to his body, or this “friend” of his he mentioned when I was a kid. I don’t know, maybe it was just my imagination… Maybe it was just a dream… I don’t know… Honestly, I don’t really care. Whatever it was, it helped me put my gramps to proper rest.
We may never know for sure, but it seems like my father couldn’t handle the loneliness after Gramps passed. He must’ve sunk further into the abyss that is madness, before finally ending his own life.
Now they’re both buried in the same cemetery, a few short yards apart, but I’ll be visiting only one of them every now and again. Rest in Peace, Grandpa Stan. You’ve earned it.