There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone and this old man is all that's left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It's just a bull**** word. So you go on and stamp your form, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don't give a ****.
If I could talk to my younger self, well, I will tell him act up, get into more trouble, and talk more trash because it's harder to get away with it when you get older.
I enjoy reading nearly everything Rich writes, but the blog style of train-of-thought responses lose me after the first 2 or 3 when the first responder decides to change the entire topic of the conversation and hijack every thread, with no moderation to keep it on track. To me it's unreadable.