I've Recently Been Released From Prison

It turns out it is against the law to attempt to distribute cocaine. Who knew? I sure didn't. Anyway, I've had a lot of fun in prison in the past year. Some of the fun things include: being sold into sex slavery, chain smoking, writing an appeal, killing a man, and developing my own line of shanks. Oh, the memories. Just remember when you're considering a shank, make sure it's a Scroggin's shank!

Its good to be back!

Wow, what a wonderful online romance!

Boy am I lucky. It's like something just wants me to be happy. I just met this special lady through Craigslist, I've known her for a week, and she hasn't even murdered me yet.

We look lovingly into each others eyes and say, "Wow! I thought you would have killed me by now." And then we laugh and laugh.

Sure, there are stories of online romances going sour due to the insanity of one of the parties, but I don't think that's gonna happen to us!

I guess she did say she would like to beat men to death with silverware and has been charged with attempted murder three times....

Anyway, the only things I would change about her are her facial tattoos, incessant body odor, and refusal to brush her teeth. Maybe I'm judging her too harshly. Heck, eventually I may agree with her that the Jewish people "had it comin'."

Don't you get me down! I'm lost in love land, and I ain't coming out until 'til death do us part.

I Guess There Was a Pretty Big Event Today

Because of the big event I was nervous last night and couldn't sleep. I woke up early, at the crack of 11:30 a.m. This was it. This is what I have been waiting so long for. Being a white male, this day was of special significance to me. This was the day I was finally going to do it. I was finally going to have sex with a black prostitute.

For years I have been saying, "Daniel Scroggins, you can do it. In God's eyes, all prostitutes are created equal." From this day forward, I will no longer judge a prostitute by the color of her skin, but rather by how much she charges and whether or not she looks like she is particularly gross.

Yes sir, this is the day I turn over a new leaf. A leaf that, when turned over, somehow attributes color blindness to me when I judge the merit of a hooker. I feel now, that there is no way I can become a better human being. I can say this with confidence. Wow, look at me. Socially harmonious, in touch with the people, and not a complete idiot.

Here I come you black lady of the evening. Here I come.

The Traditional Shoe Toss

It is amazing just how different two cultures are. For instance, just the other day I learned that in Muslim culture throwing a shoe at someone is considered an insult. Boy I am glad I learned that; I was going to take countless shoes with me on my Iraqi vacation for use in greetings. I thought when you met a Muslim it was traditional to bean them in the face with a shoe, but I guess I was wrong. There would have been egg all over my face.

Naturally I was curious to find out what else is considered an insult in Muslim culture. Surprisingly, the list includes: punching someone in the face, spitting on people, having sex with some else’s wife, murdering people, savage beatings, groping, raping, crotch kicking, and unwanted gay sex. Wow. Cultures sure are different.

Why here in the good old USA throwing a shoe at someone is a compliment. You say, “Hey there Sam, nice job on my hair!” And throw a shoe at his face.

You know I hope I’m wrong, but I’m just not sure a culture who doesn’t utilize complimentary shoe throwing can really thrive as a democracy. After all, every session of congress begins with the traditional shoe hurl at the majority leader.

I try to be understanding of other cultures, but sometimes it just becomes obvious that we are too different to ever get along. Muslim culture, I’m talking to you. When will you live like the rest of us and allow throwing a shoe at someone’s face to be a compliment?

Good Day.

My Sweet, Sweet Hummer

Holding onto my hummer during the oil crisis is the best decision I have ever made.

I remember the year of that fateful crisis like it was yesterday. Taft had just won the presidential election. The senate was under the firm hand of the Whig party. Gas prices were hovering around $4.00 / gallon. Sadly, it was the worst time of my life. I was losing my home, my family and even my Hummer. But I was willing to lose everything to hold onto my Hummer.

My daily commute to work was three hundred miles. Because the commute was so long the Hummer would get awful dirty. I must have been stopping to wash it six, seven times a day. Unfortunately I was too lazy to look for other closer jobs and my family had to eat. I would spend three thousand dollars on gas every week. After thirteen or fourteen weeks I suspected my job as a Wal-mart greeter was not equaling the cost of gas.

I had to do something. For one terrible moment I thought that, perhaps I don't need a Hummer? I even considered selling it for a Ford F-150 extended cab. I will never forgive myself for those words. When I start to think back upon those times, I feel like I am living it again, and I get sick. Me, driving an F-150? I guess I must've wanted people to think I was gay--because that is what they would've thought. People would shout, "There goes Daniel Scroggins--look at him and his F-150. His vehicle is so small. He must like to have sex with other men."

Thankfully, on one fateful day I was driving my hummer on the way to work, tailgating several feet from the cars in front of me. Right after I got done laying on the horn my right rear tire blew out and the hummer flipped end over end. Several months later I won a two million dollar lawsuit against General Motors. I just thank God that he answered my prayers. I knew he wanted me to keep my hummer.

So here I am today. I'm still working at Wal-mart, I still have my hummer and I guess my family is fed. It all worked out. I must be the luckiest man alive.

I would like to sell my baby, would you like to buy it?

As many of you may know, the economy has soured. As a result, I, like many Americans, has suffered the humiliation of being laid off. It takes all my strength keeping sane knowing I am less adequate than my colleagues. The only thing stopping me from blowing my head off is my many, many addictions.

Oh, and my kid.

Yes sir, just yesterday I was a gangfully employed at Funcoland. It turns out Funcoland had actually gone out of business twelve years earlier and I had been recieving checks because of a court error; but the sting is the same! Damn you economy! Damn you Funcoland! I gave you everything I had! I'm nothing now but a dried out husk of a human being.

But there is a silver lining in all of this. In my diligent research on Wikipedia, I've learned that babys on the open market may bring in upwards of six hundred dollars. I've hit the jackpot! What I couldn't do with that kind of cash. Oh, the champagne and cocaine parties I will have.

Sure I may miss my child. Although it will be easier as I actually never named the baby. Frankly I don't even know if its mine. Come to think of it, I may have just found it on the street. You know... I'm not really sure. Oh well, it doesn't matter now that I have my sweet $600+ goldmine.

We Can Change the World For the Better

I like to make a difference. Its a good feeling waking up in the morning knowing I have changed hundreds of thousands of lives--for the better.

You might be wondering, how am I making such a difference?

The answer is simple. Every morning I wake up, brush my teeth, gather my things, plan out my day, look into the mirror to tell myself how great I am and proceed to sell narcotics to the youth of America.

The fact is, if I wasn't selling drugs to children--they couldn't get any. Scary I know. Imagine a world where children, some as young as five, aren't able to acquire the illegal drugs they need to trudge through another day. Wow. I can't. I literally can't picture such a nightmare.

And wouldn't you know it, sometimes I'm brutally beaten and arrested. Police call me names like, "scumbag" or "sicko." You know that hurts policemen. That really hurts--even more than the numerous punches to the groin and face. Though my balls may be bruised, they will never be as bruised as my soul. Why just the other day I sold drugs to a policeman's child. And does he thank me? No. Instead he beats me with his baton--in an area which can only be described as my face--for over forty minutes. Let me tell you, that smarts.

Of course I was back at it. Selling drugs to all the policemen's children. Why? Because its the right thing to do.

Hopefully I'll see you out here tomorrow--doing the world a favor. Just don't do it in my territory--because I'll kill you. And that's a fact.