If you ever find yourself eating with a spork, and you are not at KFC, take a good look around you; chances are, you’re in a very bad place! Over the past month; I’ve eaten three meals a day with said utensil, watched over 492 hours of BET, and hung out with the likes of White Mike, Black Mike, Hound Dog, “Pops #1” a.k.a. Bad Breath Bernard, Wildman, Pops #2, and Easy-E. Know where I’m alluding to yet? Ok, here’s one more hint: You have to get used to taking a shit in front of large groups of people. Figure it out yet? Just in case my narrative skills are lacking, or you’ve never had the pleasure of a deluxe suite at the Graybar Motel -- I was in jail. The pokey. The bighouse.

I already know your next question. I’m sorry; I can’t answer it at this time. One thing is certain: once I drop the whole story on you, it will make alien abductions look like the office carpool. There will be a Pulitzer Prize winning account of this miscarriage of justice on CJ very soon -- believe that! It will blow your mind.

The good news is: I got out just in time to celebrate September 11th! No, I’m not some Jihad-loving Dune Coon sympathizer – hell no! As big a fan of schadenfreude as I am, few things can turn my stomach the way the events of 9/11/2001 did. Nope, like many others here in the USA September 11th is my birthday.

Yes, 9/11 has long been a very strange day for yours truly. Even before 2001, this day seemed to bear a Tutankhamen-sized curse. Here are some various lowlights from some of my past 9/11’s:

SEPTEMBER 11TH, 1997 – While traveling through South Georgia on my way to a birthday surfing trip, I am arrested for possession of LSD. The ordeal makes “Midnight Express” look like a slap on the wrist. Keep checking on CJ if you enjoy abject tales of human suffering. The whole tale will be told soon.

SEPTEMBER 11TH, 2001 – My 30th birthday; I am run over (twice), blackmailed, and stabbed by a psychotic ex-girlfriend only hours before the planes hit.

SEPTEMBER 11TH, 2002 – My intake of Jagermeister, beer, and cocaine cause a 12 hour “rolling blackout” that would make California blush.

So what are my plans for 9/11 2003? If I can find one, I’m going to hide in the “black box” flight recorder that always seems to make it through those airline disasters; it seems like my safest bet!

Yeah, that’s right – when they hijacked those planes, they also hijacked millions of red blooded American’s birthdays with it. In the interest of keeping spirits high, I would like to issue this statement to all you fucking freedom-hating camel jockey Muslims on the behalf of all the Virgos born on this day:

“Even Though Your Culture Oppresses Women – You Still Suck, You Fucking Towelheads!”

With any luck, we’ll all be eating a delicious rack of ribs off a strippers tits when you hear this! Hopefully, this will cause you to have stroke, die, and go to hell, where we will reappear with the stripper and the pork for an eternity of 9/11’s!

See you in Guantanamo Bay, assholes!

Happy 9/11,