Tracy Hudson broke out of the uterine bastille that was his mother sometime around 1974. From there, it’s mostly been a long downhill slide punctuated mostly by epic failure upon epic failure.

At the time this blog has begun, Hudson has worn many, many hats. He’s been a failed artist, a failed writer, a failed baseball player, and at a time of his life that some would call “more interesting than most”, he was a failed ¬†Real Life Supervillain.

Tracy HAS succeeded at being a drug addict, but he stopped being good at doing all the opiates for about four years now. So either he’s a failed junkie or a successful recovering addict. That all depends on how you view it.

Despite the obvious pattern alluded to above, Hudson is something of a masochist and still plugs away as a middling ballplayer and writer.


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