Pop will have been gone five years this April 14th and I find myself once again isolated, alone, drained, sleep deprived, lonley, malnourished, depressed, and boxed into a corner as the sole 24/7 caregiver to my nearly 30 year best friend, boss, roommate, running buddy Kjell who's as hard case died in the wool, constitutionally incapable, jay walking, bull headed, stinking drunk that ever walked the earth with no redeeming or even barely likeable qualities left. Thats me and him there to the left on the day about 15 years ago after I kicked a US Prosecuter's ass up and down the block in Federal Court while I went pro per not only under oath but also mirandized and facing a federal prison term myself if that prick of a dumbass rookie schmuck prick of an Assistant US Attorney had his way as he grilled me all day on the stand. The hardest day of my life. My pal here...was there for me...in the gallery behind said prickface Assistant US Attorney giving me a tug of the ear or a brush of his hair or gentle cough now and then that got me through that ordeal and I walked out of that US Federal Courthouse with my head held high a free man. So how can I not care for the rotten old bastard now when his lady of 20 years and his entire family and all of his friends have washed their hands of him and left him for dead?
