Some Shit Is Bound To Pop Off...

Might as well pay your bondsman.

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It can never be said that I fail to plan. I like to have multiple plans, several exit strategies, and a change of clothes with me at all times. You really never know.

Sometimes, though, you can feel the trouble brewing. In those times, it’s best to get up with your bondsman and let him know to expect your call.

My bondsman is a great dude. Also stands around 6’6 and played college football for Miami. The first thing I said to him was, “you will never have to worry about me running”.

Being open field tackled by him is not on my bucket list.

I do know that no matter what I manage to get myself into, he’s coming to get me. I just have to manage to not get shot, or run over because that’s legal per Ron DeSantis.

In case I forget to mention it later, Ron DeSantis is a fat sack of piss and can’t govern his fucking way out of a wet paper bag.

These aren’t empty threats; Grady Judd is my sheriff, and they shoot first and sometimes ask questions afterward. However, if you allow fear of tyrants to run your show, you’ll end up in a show ruled by tyrants.

That just isn’t the look I’m going for.

All the huffing and puffing and posturing aside, I can feel some shit is likely to pop off. If you’re going to be out and about, it’s best to have all your little ducks in a row before you leave the house.

If you’re not prepared for shit to bust loose, you probably want to sit on the porch. I don’t blame you. No hard feelings.

I’m all in though. Going Ape mode. Someone has to.

-Q