Your kind is finished my dear boy. You go back to the closet. Close the door. Nobody wants your kind.

Frankly, all you have left is swear words.

And that's more than you deserve because Taffy does not even have that: His heart is croaking of rage at his incapacity to halt change. And of course at his incapacity to adapt: there is no where for him to go except Heaven. You, at least, have your closet where you can look at your watches. Enjoy!!!

Notice the "Dear Boy?" He likes to copy other posters; you know this 'dosser in the back of old cars and parks,' SB? He says 'your kind is finished' well, his kind never got to start hahaha!

Anyway, Sorry to hear about your throat. Esther has a fever today, thanks to some booster jabs that all kids need to have, so no school and no medicine because she has just sicked it up all over me.

I like to hear about the watches- only peasants don't like well crafted machines of excellence.

God that man is a filthy nasty piece of work, on about me soon going to heaven- a vile individual.

Are you off about now? I'll get in touch again in about a fortnight.