This time, it ain’t for me. I’m startin’ to reckon I’m runnin’ a prison around here. Between the weahter and the dogs, to boy, and myself, I swear… I thought I was one with judges and their whims… A”parently”, not. The boy got in a scrap a while back with his buddy. His buddy got off. I’ll get the book, and so will my son. That’s just how it roll’s ’round here.

Got to be at court at 9:00 AM tomorrow. Bet that don’t call us ’till 1. They got to be gettin’ kickbacks from the parkin’ vendors.

Then, I get to pay again for the asswhippin’. Doctors weren’t enough. His bud had a lawyer, “in stock”… I don’t, but I’m thinkin’ it might be prudent. Then, I kept tellin’ the boy, go to school. He kept blowin’ that advice off. Until… he got a letter, just like, his momma, and I did, that said, “Hoss, got to school, or we’re throwin’ you into juvie”.

Best youngin’ I’ve seen since then. Goes to school. Does his homework. Acts decent.

I hope the judge takes that into consideration tomorrow. And the next time we go in for the truancy shit.

I hate goin’ to court. Whether it’s for my fuck up, or his.

Update: Turns out, court, in this case, wasn’t court. It was a family assessment. Which wasn’t even that. Basically it was a talk, with a principal with a badge. ‘Neckson was just tryin’ to keep the peace, and couldn’t, which she recognized. If he keeps his shit together for 90 cycles, he’s gold. If he don’t, he’s copper. Which nowadays, might be better… In all honesty, he seems to have gotten his “shit in one sock” finally. I hope it don’t get a hole in it.

Hey now, I know, I should’ve known better but distractions can… cause problems. I was perched on the porcelain the other mornin’, burnin’ a Winston, droppin’ chocolate and… checkin’ out the latest Bass Pro Shop catalog. You know, payin’ more attention to the shiny things in the catalog than the ash, or the rock of the Winston. Mistake. Had a few puffs, turned a few pages. Noticed the ciggy was ’bout gone, so, the normal thing to do, was drop it in the head with the rest of the crap and send it down river. Which I did.

When I did, I had a whole new understanding of “high and tight”, with regards to chin music in baseball. I … had a too near miss. I come up offa that head like that missile that shot down the space junk yesterday. Initial inspection, much like the missile shot, was inconclusive, but the pain wasn’t there, so I thought, no harm, no foul.

Fast forward a couple o’ days. I’m in the work head… I’m in there by myself, and take a look down at the prince while he’s gettin’ some stress relief, and low and behold, I spot a blemish… on the crown. Hmmm. Wonder where in the hell that came from. I’m thinkin’ back, back, way back to any time I might have introduced the prince to a skank, but, none came to mind. Hell, I’m gettin’ a bit nervous now. I’m thinkin’ a trip to Dr. Johnson might be in order. Fuck, I was thinkin’, gettin’ old sucks, which it does, but that’s a different story. Later that day, while I was either mightymorphin’ly bored out of my mind or painstakingly pissed at some asshole, a little bird whispered in my inner ear… hey dickhead… you singed your junk on the crown the other day… chill out. Relax, cancel the appointment with Dr. Johnson.

See, memory does fade with age… but stupidity lives on.

Yes… he said some bad words. Yes… he apologized. A&E is borin’ as shit without him. There’s only so many CSI Miami’s I can watch before I see ‘em all. I don’t see nobody wrenchin’ on Al’s pair for raisin’ hell about the “Duke case”, that wasn’t. Can’t we just move on. If Al can condemn innocent folks, and not see a bit of flyback from it, but Dog can use the N word in an “private” phone call and get ejected… Put your double standard scale up against that…. I’m just tired of A&E. Bring Dog back I say…