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  • I remember the immortal words of my Uncle Jim Bob when he told me to live every day as if it were my last. Of course, he's on death row in San Quentin, but what a time he had until the arrest.

    He had so much advice to give. When I was five, he sat me on his knee, the real one, not the wooden one, cracked a Coors open, drank it with one gulp and said, "Life's too short to be a cunt. Now get out of my face you fat little prick. Your auntie and me got some fucking to do."

    Right before he gave me my first black eye, he yelled, "Never trust a grown man who says he loves kids."

    After church one Sunday, he passed me a joint and said, "Never trust a son-of-bitch that says the world is going to end and still wants your money. There's only one correct prophecy: 'The end is rear!'"

    He used to like to take his walks to the liquor store the long way, so they took him past the local looney bin. He said he did that so he could stop to smell the crazies.

    He also went over to the local psychic once, so he could strike a happy medium. He said she was a fraud because she didn’t even duck or see it coming.

    His views on politics were fairly shallow and realistic. As he chopped up some rails of gack, he told me, "LBJ was a President of the United States, not what a Mexican calls a blowjob. That's all you need to know about politics, boy."

    Uncle Jim Bob’s views on philosophy and the big questions in life were also fairly simple. He didn't think too hard on much of anything. The only thing I ever heard him ponder was when we were finishing up a bottle of Wild Turkey on the porch, he turned to me and said, ""What the fuck is that thing that Meatloaf won't do for love?"

    He said that I was unlucky to born in this day and age. He told me, "My generation got their mouths washed out with soap; your generation gets their mouths washed out with cock and winds up on talk shows. Bunch of pussies."

    His work ethic was real simple and old school: "Never work under a broad, unless it's thrusting your cock upward."

    Trusting doctors wasn’t something he was too keen on. He said, "Hospitals are full of sick people. It's better to avoid a hospital unless you're shooting blood out of your ass or your piss looks like motor oil."

    When I got busted smoking weed with him, he told the arresting officer, "Weed's not a drug; it’s a plant! It's not a real drug until you will blow someone behind a liquor store dumpster for the next hit. And, if you're sucking dick for weed, you just really like to suck cock."

    Uncle Jim Bob understood people surprisingly well, even when he was beating them up. After knocking out a guy in a bar, he turned to me and said, "If you don't have something nice to say about someone . . . chances are that person is a dick."

    His views on his many children with as many women were simple as well: "The only good thing about having kids is making them . . . mow the yard and do the dishes."

    He never seemed have a job, but always had a woman who did. He had no use for woman who didn't work and made their men earn all of the money. He told me, "The secret to having a good life is to have a woman and TV that both work. And remember, there's no unemployment insurance for performing a Blow Job, so she’s gotta’ punch a clock."

    He thought dating was an outdated way to get a woman. Shortly before his final arrest, he told me, "The secret to having any woman you want involves a panel van, duct tape and a tazer."

    I've only visited him once in prison. He's a bit more circumspect and philosophical these days. He told me, "It's not the man beside you that counts, but the man inside you that counts . . . and by the way . . . prison is extremely gay."
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