Dear Quitter,
I would like to give you a piece of advice. Now I would no more presume to know about the field of Purse Snatching than I would about being a docent at the Newark Museum; neither is within the small realm of my expertise. However, I will say this. Quitters never win, and winners never quit. Did Lance Armstrong say, “Boy, I am tired, and would like to stop, because my remaining ball fucking aches”? Did Mohandas Ghandi say “Hey India, you bitches are on your own. I am HUNGRY and want a grilled cheese sandwich and 17 Swedish fish RIGHT NOW!!!”? No. And do you know why? Because they are winners.
All I ask is that the next time you creep up on someone at night on an unlit street, try to grab their bag as they loudly scream expletives at you, and knock them onto the ground, you finish the job that you started, instead of running away like a bitch. You were like two evilly violent tears away from securing the bounty, three tops. I hope you enjoy your lack-of-my-purse, and die wheezing and alone in a nursing home that smells like pee.
I hate you,
bearclaws
The gaping maw of what had once been a strap, and is now just your failure
Dont know how I came upon this sight but no matter I read it. I was once robbed and believe me I know how you feel, such weak men that I really dont know if they have the right to live on this planet. I tell you what though the 45 ACP in my pocket stops it from ever happening again.