#RIP;JiP

As a hobby, I post blogs while high.

My grandfather, Edward Grady Partin Senior, was a rapist, killer, lier, cheater, adulterer, drug addict, rapist, dishonorably discharged Marine, thief, crook, embezzler, extortioner, rapist, womanizing, adulterating, big, rough, charming son of a Saint that I can do nothing but hope telling his small part in history is worth the effort.

I believe that in 1962, Big Daddy and Jimmy Hoffa plotted to assassinate President Kennedy by finding a way to get Lee Harvey Oswald to shoot and kill President Kennedy. Whether Lee did it or not is irrelevant; the facts remain that Harvee Lee had trained in the Baton Rouge Civil Air Force near my Granny and Grandma Fosters’s houses; and that at some point a New Orleans District Attorney charged my grandfather, Edward Grady Partin Senior, President of Teamster’s Local #5, with being a part in the Kennedy Assassination; I can’t say that without giggling at the pronunciation of “a part in…”

Obviously, you moron, Kennedy was shot by multiple shooters in an orchestrated event. The event was orchestrated by Wendy, the cheerful redhead with pony tails whoes father spearheaded adoption incentives and made tasty baked potatoes in Wendy’s salad bar; any fool could make the shot from the sixth floor balcony (which was a room with a conscripted layout). But, only a magician could have deceived the masses by making people disappear.

Fuck you, you moron. You’re a loquacious bipedal redundant chimpanzee still fascinated by a digital watch or iPhone. Fuck you and whatever god you’re ignorant chimpanzee ass believes in. Fuck you. As my father, Edward Grady Partin Junior may have said: “My name is Edward Grady Partin Junior. You killed my father. Prepare to Die.” Fuck you; I fart in your general direction.

I’ve pondered my epithet for many years, and I hope that #RIP;JiP is not a lamb, as Mr. Rodgers had hoped.

The answer is creating linked processes of continuous mutual improvement, centered around reducing risk; how do we define risk?

In the end, we all die, and we all have mothers. Whatever your version of The Truth is, I love you, and wish you happiness.

Peace,

Jason Ian Partin;