======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
I live a reckless lifestyle, or so people tell me. Aw hell, who am I kidding? Of course I do. I definitely try my hardest to minimize my risk, but it’s not always possible. Recently, instead of constantly worrying if some course of action is going to get me into trouble, I just sit back, think about it for a moment, and resign myself to the fact that I’m going to be arrested for something someday. It’s inevitable. The only remaining question is, what for?
1. Drunk And Disorderly
This is a no-brainer. The fact that I haven’t been arrested for anything alcohol-related is not only miraculous, it’s a little bit suspicious. Given the stupid situations I’ve put myself in the last several years, the only possible answer is either that the cops are holding off on indicting me until they can build a massive Rico case and put all my friends and me away for good, or a shadowy group has kept me safe because they need my help as a part of a larger, global conspiracy. Either way, I’m nervous–but I digress. I’ll get popped for some sort of booze-fueled something sooner or later. Not a DUI, for sure (gave that game up a long time ago). Possibly public intoxication, disorderly, lewdness, or maybe some obscure law I don’t even know about that governs what you can and can’t do while drunk at the petting zoo. Who knows?
I ain’t never snitched on no motherfucker ever, and I don’t plan on starting anytime soon. I’ve been put under the third degree for things done by people I didn’t even know and I kept my damn mouth shut. Hell, if we’ve had one beer together and shit goes down, I’ll lie my ass off for you all day and twice tomorrow. Is that a character flaw? Probably. I have friends with lovely girlfriends who are some of my absolute favorite people I’ve ever known, and if one of my friends asks me to lie my ass off to his girlfriend about him being with me all night, I won’t even hesitate. Will I counsel him to be honest with her and tell him he needs to not fuck up the best thing he has going? Absolutely. Will I ever sell him out? I’d die first. Sorry, ladies. This commitment extends to the witness stand. I don’t care if my buddy is the worst serial murderer since Arsenio Hall–I will swear up and down that he was sitting next to me watching “The Swan Princess” during the events in question. I don’t care if it gets me a seat in the clink next to a ham sandwich of a man named Reggie. What’s right is right.
3. Possession With Intent To Distribute
For the legal purposes of this article, I’m staying mum on my alleged use or non-use of narcotics. Let’s approach this the OJ way. Consider this the “if I did it” of humor columns. Hypothetically, let’s say that I’m having some friends over to my house in the future. Well, that scenario tells us a lot of things. First, I have a house. This means I have money. I’ve already committed to myself that I’m not going to get too fancy for an apartment until I’m making so much money that I don’t even notice the mortgage payment leave my account. So if I have money, it’s safe to say that I have a lot of fun friends (hangers on and real friends). Whether or not I have any plans to ruin my nasal cavity, I have an obligation to my guests, right? I mean, are we just going to sit around and enjoy our soda and crumbled chips, or will we try to have a good time? Sure, I’ll procure some Panamanian wig dust to ensure everyone’s satisfied, but if we’re talking about a house, then we’re definitely looking at a couple hundred guests. You definitely don’t want the powdered donuts (hold the donuts) to run out, so you have to make sure you over prepare. That puts me in dangerous territory. Not quite escogrizzly territory, but not ten cent, hacky sack, low stakes shit, either. I’m not saying this is definitely going to happen, but if it does, I may need to give my (definitely Jewish) lawyer a little ring a ding ding.
No, not music or movie piracy (although that’s pretty likely, too). Nah, I like this business model that those Somali guys have going. I don’t know why piracy went out of fashion on the high seas, but I’m bringing it back for sure. Fuck Maersk ships, though–I don’t even know what they’re stealing from those things. I’m going straight to the top. That’s right: cruise ships. How much security do those things have? Like, three guys in maroon suits with the combined arm strength of a pregnant koala? Sure, they might have some guns stashed somewhere, but I’m not worried. Plus, imagine all the loot we could score. Not only is there the stuff owned by Carnival, but every person on board has credit cards, currency, and traveler’s checks. We’ll hit a couple of small ships to get my mangy crew of miscreants into shape, and then we’ll hit one of those floating casino ships. It’ll be awesome–like “Ocean’s Eleven,” but with an actual ocean!
I’m not a particularly violent guy. I’ve been involved in my fair share of necessary dust-ups, but I don’t really go looking for it. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Well, Casanova and Antonio Banderas are sort of the standard for “lovers,” right? So I guess I’m not really that, either. I’m not a lover or a fighter; I’m just lazy. That sounds right. Anyway, that being said, I don’t think we can rule out that I’ll likely end up killing somebody at some point. It’s not my fault. There are just too many dummies out there. We’re all hanging out at my ranch shootin’ skeet, and some idiot friend a buddy of mine brought will make one too many snide comments about Savage Garden’s music, and I won’t be able to take it anymore. Having a shotgun readily available won’t help the situation much. Either way, I’m not too worried about being arrested for this one. Not because it’s an unlikely scenario (it’s probably definitely happening) but I’ve seen too many murder/intriguing true crime shows to fuck this one up. I’ve been preparing for this inevitability for years, so if I botch the job, I deserve to go to prison.