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With No Attorney

… and here I am, with no attorney, slumped on a red plastic stool in Wild Bill’s Tavern, nervously sipping a Budweiser in a bar just coming awake to an early morning rush of pimps and pinball hustlers… with a huge Red Shark just outside the door so full of felonies that I’m afraid to even look at it.

But I can’t abandon the fucker.  The only hope is to somehow get it across three hundred miles of open road between here and Sanctuary.  But, sweet Jesus, I am tired!  I’m scared.  I’m crazy.   This culture has beaten me down.  What the fuck am I doing out here?  This is not even the story I was supposed to be working on. 

 –Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas. 

Oh, Hunter.  I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Until next time, Your friend,

Anita Thompson

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