Well i'm back in brew town for a couple days awaiting my fate. My trials on wenseday still haven't heard from the public defender whose representing me. My pops is coming to court with me. Turns out if convicted i can't enlist, so that means my only hope is to plea bargin down to a lesser offense or that the whole thing is tossed out of court. But if that doesn't work out i'm liable to say fuck it "no contest" and due to the severity of the case and considering the fact i'll have no chance of living the future i envisioned for myself with a child abuse charge on my rechord for life i'll ask for the maximum penalty not only be adhearded too but strictly enforced. 10 years in slammer for a spanking just has all the ingrediants of a great book surrounding it.
I don't know personaly i think child beating scum like myself should be hung upside down from a telephone pole with a nail through my feet, leaving my arms out stretched like jesus christ upside down on a sunday bleeding from my wrist baptizing the martyrs and the words sin carved into my chest.
Good news is i've ended my impromtu hunger strike, and i've stoped using my arms for ash trays. Still run everyday but its not helping. I have all this shit for the child in question, and a running bad idea of surprising her mom one mourning before work with a palm full of shaving cream to the face. God i'm so immature.
Before i go i'll leave one note about what its like being back in battle creek. Its the only city i know where i can walk down a busy rural street carrying 5 highly potent home grown marijuawana plants wraped up in a t-shirt pointing at on coming cars and the plants waving and poping the thumbs up while a cop drives by.
P.S. no amount of drugs compares to what its like hearing "hey chris...I woke up!" first thing in the mourning while you feel a hand pressing your butt down reminding you why should wear underwear to sleep....cept maybe heroin but i wouldn't know anything about that. Now if I go to jail all bets are off!
I don't know personaly i think child beating scum like myself should be hung upside down from a telephone pole with a nail through my feet, leaving my arms out stretched like jesus christ upside down on a sunday bleeding from my wrist baptizing the martyrs and the words sin carved into my chest.
Good news is i've ended my impromtu hunger strike, and i've stoped using my arms for ash trays. Still run everyday but its not helping. I have all this shit for the child in question, and a running bad idea of surprising her mom one mourning before work with a palm full of shaving cream to the face. God i'm so immature.
Before i go i'll leave one note about what its like being back in battle creek. Its the only city i know where i can walk down a busy rural street carrying 5 highly potent home grown marijuawana plants wraped up in a t-shirt pointing at on coming cars and the plants waving and poping the thumbs up while a cop drives by.
P.S. no amount of drugs compares to what its like hearing "hey chris...I woke up!" first thing in the mourning while you feel a hand pressing your butt down reminding you why should wear underwear to sleep....cept maybe heroin but i wouldn't know anything about that. Now if I go to jail all bets are off!