The King and I

I have learned that some people don't believe my tales of woe. To suggest that I exaggerate my stories and take some sort of artistic license is ridiculous. So, to prove my point, I have indisputable photographic evidence of my childhood. It started young.






This is the First time of many that my mother tried to discard me at sea.






















To this day I am convinced that the only reason Tony got these horrible glasses is because he knew that I would think it was cool. Diabolical!


















Even at Christmas, all I wanted was a ducky. Bud I didn't get it... NO! Tony did. All I could do was dream. Notice the distain in my eye, the sad hopelessness in my face. Then look at Tony, happy, care free... has shoes. He had it all!

The thing I love about this picture is it really sums up my life up to this point. Yes, that is me. The sad little hobo in the bottom right. notice the white shirt, patches in the jeans, dirty socks, and what appears to be an extension cord as a belt. When you consider that I am far to young in this photo to pick my own costume, you have to wonder, who would put me in to a hobo costume? What kind of a sick individual would dress up one child as a drifter, and the other as the only known survivor of the planet Krypton.

All i know is Superman wasn't a Mexican, and he didn't wear gym shorts.