I got robbed. Couple of hobos got me from the back when crossing a bridge. I’d always looked at them with sorrow but now… now I look at them with distrust.
Kill ‘em all, I say. Kill ‘em all.
I’m also thinking Tijuana is kicking me out, with assaults on multiple fronts; I’m going for strategic retreat to fight on a new front.
Incoming reality disfunction.