Crushed Like a Bug in the Ground

Great fucking timing.

As you've no doubt heard/read/extra-sensorily perceived, a plane crashed into the Hudson. All passengers aboard survived, but that fact does little to calm my nerves (although it does warm my cold heart). For I am, you see, deathly afraid of flying; and in fewer than two weeks' time, Poppa Large* is set to board a flight for destiny.

Destiny.

Great fucking timing.

Consider this my last will and testament.

I like Brandon Roy better than Dwyane Wade. (In fact, I like the Portland Trailblazers more than the Miami Heat.) I've always followed my instinct, for good or bad. Smiles and cries.

Write that on my...epitaph.



* Big Shot of the East Coast