The bull came back from 9 goes at the hometown buffet

Hey there readers,

I know you're there. Why don't you do something about the fact that they are fudging the court minutes in Division 40 of the Criminal Courts building.

Millions will eventually be spent on this malicous prosecution and I am informing the void. There can be no excuse that notice wasn't given.

I would love to share pigs and poetry and stories but I'm forced to sound like a friggin loon. I'm painfully sane, kalpakian. And, you know it. How do you stand yourself. How can waxler fake fear to win against a wronged human being? How much of the city and my money do you want to waste? How did my life become such a intricate and bizzarre movie? How are we going to face the future knowing how so many bad people exist? That's the biggest concern: How does one ever dream of a contentment when they learn that judges are liars, prosecutors are maniacs, Comedians are a diseased and desperate bunch, and that way too few don't cave to thier wimpy impulses.

Ach, this blog is a disaster, a catastrophe. My brain is a pentium 2 today. Some days it's a brand new Mac, some days it's a compaq from 1995. Now, it's a Pentium one circa 1992, so I better get the hell off the keyboard.