Hard to understand what you see and what you hear. But to look at it, you cringe and resign yourself to the narrative. It’s all true; everything you’d heard, all that you thought and were afraid of and in fact, I'm barely acknowledged and I'm “above” these guys. They know it. I know it. They have to know it. They must realize that I'm just not that amused by this pointless idiocy being rehashed with an addled gusto of reckless abandon. How their lives have evolved into nothing and I can’t stop laughing, compounded by the grass after all these years being stone sober straight.

I'd be crying if it were booze, but these fractured lives that have splintered with mistakes, ill begotten schemes and general resistance to rules; they seem so oblivious. Do you remember when? And remember that time? Yeah, I remember; though you try to forget what in retro should be cautioned so it wouldn’t happen again. And again. These juvenile tales of sloshed and zapped out contortions, illustrated hysteria that for god’s sake should be condemned to amnesia. But they can't. These stories are their glories. They’d have to go back to the beginning and use their heads for something other than landfill.

I remember this and that like it was -- not "how" it was but I can't tell them that his dad was a conniver and swindler and today would be up on charges for feeding him dope so I just laugh 'cuz it's all I can do but to watch the show until the end.

Yeah, though we really did dig the “Duke”.

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