Before the Chop IV

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Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, shame on, four times? REALLY? How in the hell did I fall for this again? Was it the $40 (ten bucks more than last time) I was paid to choke out the words for the back cover of this "book?" This time around, old angry ass couldn't even get to one hundred columns for the LA Weekly. He keeled over at fifty-nine. How weak! I know what you're thinking—he must have been fired, right? All the complaints and missed deadlines took their toll and the little paper that could, finally did and sent H Rollings packing, right back into to his glass box at the Smithsonian. Believe it or not, he quit. What an idiot! Do you have any idea how lucky he was to get that job in the first place? The people who hired him are long gone. You have to believe that they brought HR on as a parting shot, the proverbial lit paper bag on the front porch.Finally, a bright spot on the horizon. This has to be last of these "Chop"...