I Am Immortal

I Am Immortal .................. for Paul Ryan . I might as well admit it. Nobody gets out of here without the rest of us. Which means we're looking at a long goddamn haul. ... On a more personal note, that means in plain English: we'll be dragging you, friend, and paying the freight for it, all the way. To keep accounts current, as an update to the cost/benefit analysis ongoing, I should probably say: Paul, I don't have the least problem with that, uh, recent thing, the problem “we” have in “our” inner cities, you know, with those men, and their “culture;” sheeit, man... their lack of a deep and meaningful involvement with, you know, like, “work”... it nearly equals my own. Even yours, for that matter. But, hey, my brutha, that is, homie, dude-ski, my man, I gotta say it, if I were you, and if MY bitches wouldn't or couldn't bring home “bacon” sufficient to the day, that is, stuff enuff to keep the crib cush and cozy, I wouldn't go around admitting to it. That shit takes some real, well, it's not balls, it can't be that, given your...um, I mean, due to... well, never mind. But you know it, as well as any of us, that's sure not the reason. WTF, holmes, it must just be the damn and downright simple; and to be fair, I've got to give credit, willingly, where and when it's due: so, though it does for sure goddamn well boggle the mind to consider it, I think we've got to accept the facts when they're plain. It must be, can only be: you’re even dumber than you look.