Just sitting at work doing some "copy/paste" with letterhead and signatures thinking of all the euphamisms for jail as images of playing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot on the harmonica with grizzled, old, toothless, black men dance in my head.
Apparently, my actions will send me to a depression-era clink somewhere in the south.
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1 comment:
It's a good news bad news kind of a thing. I mean, you have to go to jail which isn't great but hey! Time travel!
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