I am watching infomercials while I write this, and it is depressing. I don’t find it depressing to be sitting on my couch, I find it depressing that I can’t afford cable when people like Diddy are fuking running around with models on beaches while rockin’ a tuxedo. The only time I ever wore a tuxedo was when I worked as a bus boy at some shitty family restaurant. I lasted about a month and got used to taking out the trash, possibly why I ended up marrying the slut I ended up with, probably the reason I got syphilis 67 times in 18 months. Now, I got some health shit going on and if what the doctor finds is cancer, I plan on using the cancer to get me to the diddy top-level. I call it the sympathy card that God gave me to use. I used to think the fat wife, the addiction, the shitty life was as low as the motherfucker would go, but the stress of all that may have caused a disease that I will use to get out of all this. This has been a depressing pos and being black in the late ’90s to early ’00s was where you wanted to be, now it’s the middle aged Mexican’s turn to be the next Hip Hop.

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