The Opossum-Palooza

It's okay. We don't know what the name means either.


Greetings From Petersburg

I apologize if I don't get a chance to write a full post about this. The thing is, right now, I'm writing at a compter in the library of a federal prison in Virginia. Needless to say, you don't get alot of time, or privacy.

It's a long story, how I ended up here. Apparently, the government has been after BoSox Siobhan for quite some time (something about moral depravity, I don't know). Well, they called me to court and demanded that I reveal her identity, and when I refused I... well, here I am. Fact is, I just wasn't willing to compromise my journalistic (bloggeristic?) integrity. Siobhan has a right to her anonymous identity, dammit, and that anonymity is at the core of everything I do here.

Besides, you know what? Prison doesn't seem so bad. Oops, sorry... gotta go. My cellmate, Bruno, needs me. He said something about my "bung", but I don't know what he's talking about. I don't even follow Chelsea. I'm more of a Tottenham Hotspur guy myself.



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