STOP SNITCHIN

I was going to post this last week but a series of events from this past weekend gave me the opportunity to go ahead with it.

When I was a young lad growing up, if my brothers or I did something that deserved some type of punishment from my parents, my Dad usually was the one laying down the law. If one of us happened to tell on another, my Dad would beat both parties involved. So it's safe to say that I grew up thinking tattle tales were for the birds.

One of my brother's favorite sayings when we were teenagers was "snitches get stitches." With my brother, word is bond and he lived it. Once after a weekend when the parents were out of town, my grandmother came over to find my Jack Daniels bottle full of grass seeds. She automatically assumed they were my brother's and told my Dad as soon as he returned home. My brother never told my Dad they weren't his. My little brother took the fall for me and did his time. I suppose I should have done the honorable thing and fessed up to the truth, but I was the one who could drive not him. It's not as if he really had any plans to be restricted from. Anyhow, you get the idea. Rats belong in the sewer and are still one of the lowest forms of life.

There is an exception to every rule .If someone shot one of my family members and I witnessed the act, I would most definitely notify the proper authorities. If I happened to see two cats taking recreational smoking breaks in the club watering closest, I'd mind my own damn business. That's hypothetically speaking of course.

Oh and Bro, thanks for taking the blame. You're the man.