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Wow. Just... wow. What a week. What. A. Week. Shit...
Sorry, guys. You're gonna have to give me a moment here. It's been, well, it's been
effing crazy around here. I think... I mean, I'm not sure yet... It's far too early to say,
and there's just way too much shit to sift through, but maybe... just maybe... I was right.
Things have kinda, well, blown up around here. Yeah, and I may actually mean that
literally (the real literally, not that bullshit "literally" so favored by the elite brain trust
known as "reality TV stars").
Details? Hmmm... well, again, I can't really go into those right now. But if you've
been watching the news, you'll have seen some big activity happening around these parts.
Now, I can neither confirm nor deny that they have anything to do with my case, but...
you guys are smart. (Well, I assume you are. Based on some of the comments I've seen,
maybe a few of you are more along the lines of "special," but I'll give y'all the benefit of
the doubt.) You can puzzle it out. Once everybody finishes sorting through the, uh...
rubble, I'll be able to talk more freely.
Weird week all around, actually. We're still at Defcon One around here. I've had
about enough battening down of hatches, so I've just been minding my own business,
dicking around on the internet and attempting to subdue my wife when she goes into full
nuclear meltdown mode. Then I got a little message from an old pal of mine. Well, not
really a pal... more a bitter, twisted enemy. He's almost a nemesis, that's how pissed off
this guy is. The dude's old, disabled, can't speak... yet he has amazing bowel control.
Anyway, guess he was missing the Hankster and asked if we could have a nice little
reunion. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about it.
Of course, this bitter old douche cannon ran me on a wild goose chase. I hope that
when I'm old, I'm that bitter. I mean, if you can't just screw with people willy-nilly at
that age, what was it all for? I'm very much looking forward to sitting on the porch with
the shotgun -- "get off my lawn, you damn kids!" They truly are the golden years.
So yeah, he dragged me out of the comfort of my purple gilded cage to the DEA and
then promptly told me to suck his... well, you get the picture. I haven't really puzzled
together the reason for this little jerk-off encounter, but it may have had something to do
with this bigger case I'm working on. Or he's just lonely and was looking for a little
action. Who could blame him? I am pretty dreamy.
Man. The world is a strange place. This last year has taught me that you really never
know what's gonna come smack you in the face... or shoot you four times and then try to
chop your freaking head off. Maybe all this bullshit is a sign. Time to change your life,
time to change your friends... time to move far, far, far away.
Or maybe the world really is just some blowhard Herculean douchebomb just looking
for ways to own your sorry ass at every opportunity. Like that bully in high school, but
with a much larger territory. Who knows? Guess there's nothing left to do but strap in
and enjoy the ride, right? In fact, I think maybe I'll log off this vast wasteland known as
the "internets" and try to do that for a while. Happy trails, my friends, until we meet