PYD

When I was seven, I got beat up by a group of kids outside of my school after recess. I didn't want to snitch, so I set them up to fall by letting other kids know they had those Lemonheads and didn't want to share. After about twenty minutes of getting mobbed, I snuck up behind the ring leader (shout out to Davey) and robbed him of his candy riches.

Ever since then, planning the demise of others has been a lovely thing for me. One could say I've built a career on it. Airing dudes out with their own stolen fan has been an adventure and a half but nothing smells sweeter than, or so I always thought, seeing the look on their face as they realize their dilemma. Lately, all I can appreciate is the shock of seeing that I got them. The "Oh, shit!" moment when they finally see how gutter I actually am.

Don't get excited though. I'm not letting you know that I'm actually some kind of sociopath or something... I actually have a deep love for all things justice-related. Some have suggested lawyer or superhero, but I chose organizer. I LOVE it when people make their own plan and proceed to tighten the screws on the explosive device all by themselves. It takes a special person to want to do that shit, but it takes a CRAZY person to enjoy it... (ahem) or so they say. :)

Lately there's been little of that going down. I started something heavy, so I thought, a little while ago through the magic of bullshit and two-facedness I was robbed of my simple joy. I felt really guilty about how forcefully my inner Gollum protected that shit... I mean, who the fuck fights for the right to ruin someone's day, even if its justified? Other than, say, a crazy person?

Then, today, I read that the person I was working over like a dude who fucked up the raw while trying to stretch it... took a powder...

More later...