Update: Bobby gave me permission to write Bus driver story from heaven, hell and the other side #4. LOOK OUT!!!!! He’s my Supernatural Brother from another Mother. He’s my little brother who is a foot taller than me. I can take him in a real fight. Look at his face. He knows it’s true.
Update: I’ve invited several doctors to enter into a round table discussion on profiting off a genocide. Those discussions are like running into a brick wall. I kind of think a lawyer might enter into the discussions, or at least attempt to convince doc subscribers and the VRR that profiting off a genocide is ok. Legal. Lawyers are good masturbater debaters. It’s their world. Without sounding cocky I’m also an excellent M-debater, of course I could never match them, but I’m stupid enough to try, or are they stupid enough to try?
Okay, Mr. Lawyer then you write for FREE too. Can we agree on that? Listen, doc’s, lawyer’s, the war could end in three months, six months, a year at most. Are you telling me if you don’t receive your Substack earnings you’ll starve to death? Do you really think you are a writing god? Humanity won’t survive without your Substack? You’re very comical. That’s why I had to create a comic today. Tomorrow it’s back to some serious writing.
Update: I found the picture I was looking for of me and my cousin. It was taken in 1979. We hadn’t seen each other for 42 years until the red Dodge Charger Hemi took me down there. I wish Imperial Rental had a Hellcat. I could have knocked off six or seven hours. She’s gorgeous. I love her. I have no idea what that white thing is in the picture. I think I see a cheap bottle of vodka between us.
Update again: I’m in talks with docs about Mr. docProfit. There’s some goofy stuff going on in the background. I can’t reveal it. Would everyone be all right if we did it in written word instead of a live broadcast? I promise to still come in with the high heat. Former Mariner pitcher Randy Johnson had this pitch that would sometimes bounce off a players helmet at 102 miles per hour—High Heat. He called it, “Mr. Snappy.” The receivers called it, Mr. Gotothehospital.