There are several reasons why I can't win Powerball. Some are more obvious than others, but they're all fucked up.

In my experience, there are two kinds of people who win any major lottery. The first are people who already have money. These people are usually white and pretty well off to begin with. It makes you wonder what the hell were they doing playing PowerBall in the first place.

The second type are the dirt-poor bastards who don't even know what money looks like. These people are polar opposites to the above people. With these people you have to wonder how in the hell did they get a dollar to even play!

Sadly, I fall into neither of these categories. Frankly, that pisses me off. I PowerBall dream a lot. It's my thing. It's what I do! Should I ever hit, I know exactly what I'll do. And since you're still reading, I'll let you know what that is.

Originally, I was going to have my sister claim the money for me. I have two of the most precious children in the world. Their mom's on the other hand, not so precious. In order to keep them from digging in my pockets, I was going to have my sister claim my money and then give me what I needed to do whatever it was that i was doing that day. Then it hit me... I could afford to have them shot on sight! That changed things!

As I was standing there receiving my big assed check, I would take a few moments to read an alphabetized list of the people who can kiss my black ass! My son's mom would be 1st, 9th, and 33rd on that list. For the things she's done to me, she can pucker up and kiss my ass several times. Especially since she's going to have a bad 'accident' several hours after I sign my check. Dayum those city busses, always running over innocent pedestrians!

I would hook up my people. I would pay off my mother and father's mortgages, and give them a few upgrades they've been wanting. My sister, who is my hero, would have to wait until her house was built. To her exacting specifications of course. I would get my man Jason a 4-bay garage to run his business from. Additionally, I would give him enough money so he can make sure his wife 'catches' the same bus my son's mom will be 'catching'.

There's more I'd do, but it involves things that my readers probably don't want to know about. Nothing obscene really, just graphic. The usual man shit, penis extensions, midgets, oriental brothels. You know, MAN shit. He-Man shit!

So those are the reasons I won't be winning PowerBall any time soon. That doesn't mean I won't keep trying though!

Fisk: OUT!

This whole blogging thing was so easy when I started. I didn't know anyone. No one was really paying me any attention. I hadn't yet gotten CD (comment disease). I used to write what I wanted to and didn't really care about what other people thought of it. Sure, I mostly wrote about my penis and what I could or couldn't do with it, but that's what was important to me then. Now things have changed...

I don't remember what screen I saw it on, but I noticed that people are monitoring my blog. Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what that can do to a person's ego? I immediately developed BMS (balloon mind state). My head was so big it barely fit on my shoulders. I was totally gassed up. It was however short lived. Half the excitement of being monitored is knowing who your monitors are. Since I can't tell, it's not such a big thing to me anymore.

Admitting to one's own ego isn't an easy thing. I for one have one hell of an ego. I'm good at what I do, and I know it. Things I'm not good at I sort of shy away from. I don't totally avoid them, but I'm not going to be the first to volunteer for any of that shit either. Here's an example. If you know me, you know it's going to be graphic, so be forewarned.

I used to have a huge penis! Every chance I got I was showing it to someone, or taking pictures of it and sending them to people. I used to have a great time showing it off. Then I gained weight. Over the years I was able to see less and less of my penis. As a result, I stopped talking about it as much. Nowadays I barely speak of it except in demeaning, degrading terms. It pisses my girlfriend off to no end. What can I say? I don't see what she does. Literally.

I guess it's sort of the opposite of my blogging.

Dayum! I was interrupted by a phone call from my daughter. That's a good thing. I love hearing her voice! I have no idea what we just talked about, but I guess it's not the subject that's important, it's the talking. I don't even remember what the hell I was blogging about, and I'm too lazy to scroll up and read that shit. So I guess this is where I'll stop for today. If I was making any sense, hit me back. (comment disease creeping up again)

Fisk: OUT!

While I'm still excited about going to Raleigh and hanging out with the 'Bug', I don't know if all is going to go as planned.

My brother is taking the trip with me. We're using his vehicle to get there. Although my Acura is the more fuel efficient choice, his registered and insured gas guzzling Jeep is the legal choice. Funny how that works! All that aside, he can only dedicate 2 days for the trip. That means we'll be leaving CT early evening, arriving in Raleigh early morning. After picking up Jasmine, we'll probably be heading straight back to CT. That sucks. I'm going to have to try and convince him to let me see 'Bug' for a while. Pray for me. He's a state worker and really good at being an asshole!

Oh well, that's all for now. I'm at work, and really shouldn't be using the comPOOter for personal isht. So, I'm off. For now.

Fisk: OUT!

All is well in the world of Wilson Fisk today. Little Ms. Fisk is coming into her own, and has demanded the right to see her daddy. So, on June 8th my brother and I will be programming the Tom Tom ONE and getting directions to Raleigh North Carolina!

Nightbug I am calling you out! You said if I came through, come through. I'll PM you later so we can trade digits. I'll call you when I get close.

Truth be told, Im hella nervous. I havent seen her in just under three years. Ladies, be on alert to help me with all that female stuff I am not going to know anything about. Hetzie, Angie, Mrs. Warlock, I'm counting on you to help me not fuck this up. You have been charged with this mission, and do not have the opportunity to refuse.

Thats all for now, Im so happy I am going to have to collect extortion money from people who owe me... personally.

Fisk: Out!

Dictated via telephone by Miss Christine.
Corrected later by Wilson Fisk. No one talks like me!

Adam holla at your boy.

"Basically, you're morbidly obese."

Obese, yes. Morbidly?

"I'm the doctor here. If I say it's morbid, it's morbid. Hell, I could've just called you a fat ass."

You just did.

"So what. Face facts. Your ass is kinda fat. If you wanted to be treated like a REAL person, get some REAL fucking insurance. I hate it when you state card wielding bastards come in here demanding free help."

Don't talk to me like that. Diabetes, high-blood pressure, whatever, I'll kick your ass!

"Sure you will. And I'll write you a prescription that'll change your whole fucking life! It doesn't matter who you are outside these doors. In here, you're no one. I'm the man. Remember that!"

You fucking asshole, I should...

"You SHOULD stop eating all that bullshit you're putting in your system. You SHOULD start exercising. That's what you should do. I want you to lose 5 pounds a week for the next year. If you do that, you might live to see your children graduate. If not, tell them to start making plans to bury your fat, morbidly obese ass."

There you go again with that bullshit!

"Maintain low tones with me fatty, we're not done here yet. I want you to keep a record of all the shit you put in your mouth. If your Kentucky Fried Chicken eatin' ass isn't losing weight, I want to know why. Now get you disgusting looking ass out of my damned office. I'll see you in a month if you haven't killed yourself."

Prick. I hate going to the doctor!

Fisk: OUT!