Oh don’t even give me that ‘I shot the sheriff but I did not shoot the deputy’ one liner, there’s a distinguished difference between jackfruits and grapes.
Here is the thing, this acquaintance, a Jamaican, conjoined with a Jamaican woman so that she could stay in the US. As the story goes, he held down three jobs while putting her through medical school and him through law school.
Truth be told, being sorry for someone should never be the basis of a committed union. Actually, these two people should have been two ships that torpedoed and sank; her hull was molded from concrete and his bow from wax, need I say more? Anyway, in the blistering tides of a rocky twelve year marriage, inevitability happened. The family that his three dead end jobs assisted in entitling them to a life in America bit the hand that fed them.
Of course, I am not going to make any excuses for him, the forever zipper king, but who knew? As certain as the perfect storm, the concrete queen and her clan turned on him and like a thief in the night, he left his abode on Horror Lane with only the shirt on his back; and crawled on his knees to his mother’s back room on Pleasant Road.
Q. Why do lawyers wear neckties?
A. To keep the foreskin from crawling up their chins.
Look the whole experience left his endowment ruined and naked without a conscience, in his words “I will only horn women that are over fifty as they cannot breed, easy to please and are as grateful as hell to consort with the constable”