adios, forty-nine cent

My fast-living, heavy drama, and Eminem stunt double coworker Forty-Nine Cent is no longer with us. He broke his parole a few weeks ago in a way that would be impossible to hide from the authorities.

Upon learning of his potential fate, both the Jedi Master and myself (and maybe even Chuckie) advised Forty-Nine Cent to turn himself in. He sat on that a while and eventually did so via a scheduled parole meeting.

In the six months I've known him, I've watched Forty-Nine Cent go from newly wed to expectant father to getting kicked out of the house to sleeping on friend's couches. Now, back to prison.

I honestly wanted to see him succeed in life even if his half-assed work output annoyed the hell out of me.

Forty-Nine Cent is one of those guys who doesn't know what truth is. Everything in his universe is a word game and a poker match. Truth is created out of thin air. If he was highly educated he'd make a good lawyer. And by that, I mean a terrible lawyer. He makes excuses for everything as does his mother in his behalf.

Dear CEO: if this is the best thing for him, please show him the liberating freedom of truth. And please care for his unborn child.

Adios bro. We had good times. And with my impending assignment transfer to Canada, I will most likely never see you again. May the CEO bles you and keep you.