Not gonna write you in person. I hate you too much, even though I now know everything was contracted.
I suppose I should thank you for showing me what NOT to do. Like don't breed, as if I needed an overpriced, time destroying, perpetually inconvenient, often annoying, parasitic gaol sentence to mess up my ambitions and professional life. I was also taught to not trust anyone but myself, for it is a precarious existence. You kinda lucked out in your 'professional parasite' existence.
My sperm donor told me a bit about your past when he was your host. A gorgeous, rather brilliant bitch with no sense of honour. A true psychopath, who can really act when she has to.
Also, I suppose I should thank you for the artistic inspiration you led me to, and thank both and your disgusting second host for forcing me to take those piano lessons:
https://www.soundclick.com/strictlynosehairsontap/?content=playlists
There's more, but my serious stuff will never see the light of day, even though it's better than 95% of the stuff on the radio thanks to a Jaz Drive that gave out, and I decided this world isn't worth one ounce of extra effort by now. . .not that I really care. I also have a self published e-book, but I'm not gonna give you the title, or the name I wrote it under. The first one is a little autobiographical, and I wasn't too nice in my commentary or you, or your second host who I saw as listed as dead in Talbott, TN, but also living in Berkeley, CA. Joel Michael Pistoria/Pastore, the crotch dropping abusing (me), twat snot support avoiding POS who ran away from Warren NJ to Aberdeen NC to escape his obligations.
It's harder to do that these days. Well, if he did fake his death and move to Berkeley, it serves him right. Calipornia is NOT a good place to be right now. . .for most. Then again, my circumstances are a reality defying exception, so I can't complain; considering I'm living for the next world, and not this cesspit of a realm.
Also, you have no idea how much I laughed when the utility towers in Moore County got shot up a few years back, and I read Carthage (Or is it Whispering Pines now? The internet can't make up its mind.) got flooded. Well, what ever. Enjoy our next hurricane.
You will probably never see this in life, but it's not like I care one way or another. You'll find out after you shuffle off your mortal coil, which hopefully won't happen for another 20 years at least.
Hey! I know a lot, and a long life is a curse, not a blessing, ya feckin' quim! Oh, and have you hired a housekeeper under the table (On Paul's dime, of course.) considering how olde you now are?
Oh, I'm still a'workin'. Blue collar, usually less than 40 hours a week, 3 days off, and benefits to die for. I also have an awesome pet underground rock star who I rescued from poverty 3 odd decades back. I used to make a ton. Now, I make a little more than it takes to be comfortable though my 'pet' does help out with the rent these days. We go back a little over 31 years, and never had a fight. My, and the experiences I've had for it. I've had a life that a lot of people with the right priorities would kill for. It's been quite pragmatic in a lot of ways, and it's been quite low obligation for the last 20 years, and all the obligations I took on before that were deliberate; though I must admit now some of them were kind of ego-driven and stupid; but live and learn.
Well, what ever. I wish ya the worst, cunt. Some grudges never die. May you be reborn as a Dalit in 1836, destined to have 18 crotch droppings by age 28. . .all chicklets.
