Old, but funny; #32 to ATL #7:
Dear Mike,
What the hell are you thinking? Believe me I feel you. I know what it’s like to have to kill a B word that is acting out. But damn son, all you have to do is prove to 12 idiots who couldn’t get out of jury duty that some racist cracker cop planted those dogs in your yard. What you should have done was have Warrick Dunn lead a slow-speed police chase through Atlanta, showed that the bloody leash did fit and then write a book entitled, “If I did run my own dog fighting ring.”
If you had done that, you and I would be sipping rum and cokes, drunk dialing Fred Goldman while burning $100 bills on the golf course in Florida while searching for the real backers of that dog fighting ring. You messed up man.
Regards,
The Juice.