tucson...we have a problem

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

"exit right ahead"

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

"exit right ahead"

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

"exit right ahead"

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

"exit right ahead"

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

five exits. what kind of town closes off 5 exits...both ways...on a major interstate? holy frikkin' hannah. not that there was ANYTHING holy about hannah. i mean, i heard about hannah back in the day when she was a strung out piece of jet trash selling herself on the i10 but not that they've closed off 5 exits of the i10, she's gotta go down to little tokyo on the lower east side of tucson. the bastard asks you, where the hell is the skin trade to go? little tokyo? little freddy eisenstein is going to have to hang up his own shingle on speedway so he can sell his ass for 15 bucks a pop. it's bloody disgraceful.

sorry jerks. it's the desert talking. there are bats the size of palm trees out here. and pizza the size of satellite dishes. the bastard goes home tonight and he wants to lay into the two guys drinking mountain dew across form me or perhaps the girl with the fucking uggs sitting next to them. oh well, at least she knows how the weather is. the mofo texted me earlier this evening (the mofo? who's the mofo? don't worry virginia, there most certainly IS a mofo and he's selling his ass down at ground zero) and he told me the hawk was out.

tune in tomorrow when the bastard lets jetlag tell you who he's going to cut out of his life. in the meantime, tomtom is me copilot and satan is me pal.

—the bastard