Me

Here I am in all my God-given glory. What a horrible picture. How is this thing alive? My life is a creature feature.

This is a cropped selfie shot by my nephew with a cell phone. I posted this to show you what I look like after I am poisoned. I feel worse than I look like I feel. My skin tone should be more like the young man to my right. The photo was taken June 15, 2014. I was poisoned June 13 and June 11, twice in one week, the only instance of two attacks in a week. It had been two days. I’d just had a good meal. But, I felt like my stomach had been scrubbed out with Sani-Flush and a toilet brush.

I can’t make excuses why this picture is so bad. It doesn’t get better for me. I’m not good looking or photogenic. I’m almost 61. What stands out is the ash gray skin tone. Until I saw this picture, I was mad but not worried about many attempts to poison me, and figured I was taking it in stride. I’m very careful, and ceased home food preparation in March.

I could get a haircut, wear better clothes, know when the shutter click is coming, open my eyes and smile a little, and it wouldn’t help much. That doesn’t bother me. My complexion is alarming and horrifying, and not something I’d noticed in the mirror.

By the hour and the day I’m becoming increasingly unhappy that stealing this much money and murder aren’t matters for the legal process. My lawyers and the district court have set a pretrial date of December 3, 341 days after issuance of our demand letter. The only teeth in my collection effort are the ones in my ass.

This is what I get for thinking pursuing legal remedies was doing the right thing—robbed and killed. Ugly as I am, who is more deserving? Right, I’m not dead. After so many tries I must know the decision has been made, and it’s just a matter of time. The list of suspects is short because, as I told you, whoever does this errand knows I report it to the FBI. They are not worried. I should have followed my first impulse and dealt with this trouble alone.