sons-of-bitches, son-of-a-bitch's, life's full of important quandaries

you should be thinking I have been too busy to write, too busy shuffling money around from my storefront to my team of lawyers. But that would not be the case, my readers are cheap bastards (that's you, BTW). The only up side to my predicament is that the t-shirt model found out I don't have any money (and I am in prison), and dropped the lawsuit (bitch). In summary: as you get older (and at 2 1/2 years old, I've seen my share of winters), whether in a prison cell or free, disgusting things start to happen to you - like uncontrollable flatulence, droopy eyelids, and a steady stream of liquid that pools up in the end of your nose that you can't feel until it forms a drop and is about to fall...and soon you will be dead. too soon. but too dead to care. So, try to enjoy today, and tonight, and forget about yesterday, it sucked anyway, and in spite of all the prior evidence you have to the contrary, figure tomorrow might be okay, really, it could be, heck, go ahead and count on it, why not, it's just a bunch a bastards keeping you from enjoying your life anyway, why give them the pleasure? Screw 'em, have a good day, and watch them pretend they are happy for you. They certainly are a-holes, but smile back at them anyway, it's how we cope - wherever four walls surround us. I am going to sleep now, on my back, cause that is how we sleep in prison...Buy a god damn bumper sticker you cheap son-of-a-bitch's.