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Now, don’t get me wrong—I ain’t judgin’. Fool me once, shame on—uh, shame on you! Fool me twice—well, you can’t fool me again, ‘cause I’m sharp as a tack, y’hear? I seen some stuff investigatin’ claims—prostitutes caught up in scams, fakin’ injuries for cash. One gal, swear to God, said she slipped on a banana peel in a motel room! A banana peel! I laughed so hard I near choked on my BBQ. “There’s a fella who’s got hisself a temper,” like Bob Ford in the movie, and I was mad as hell—wastin’ my time with that malarkey.

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I get pissed sometimes too. Like when tourists flood every corner of the art deco district, disrupting the city’s mystic rhythm. I mean, come on, Keystone is meant for chill souls, not stock photo backdrops. It makes me mad, motherf***er! But damn, it keeps the place raw and real.

Our Old Friend the Keystone Pipeline Just Spilled Oil in North Dakota Yet Again