Here is some appropriate musical ambience, since this is how people like me feel right about now. We feel no better than a man like Charles Manson. Doesn’t matter what I am actually saying or doing, someone is gonna fuck shit up, and I’m gonna be the scapegoat no matter the truth.
I’m going down to the basement, on my face, man, down on the floor on the Hallways of Always… I keep moving on my own mother fuckin’ road. I don’t need no help from no one, I can make it on my God damn, you better let me on my own…my God damn highway…
If the photo quality is not good enough, I apologize.
If the video quality is not good enough, I apologize.
If the audio quality of the video is not good enough, I apologize.
Either get me a better camera, pay me so that I can get a better camera, or please tolerate whatever shortcomings are in this content so that you can receive my message.
I have a $100 Nikon Coolpix camera at my disposal at the moment, and that’s all I’ve got. Sorry if I’m hardly the Investigative Journalist, and Foreign & Domestic War Correspondent you might be demanding, but I assure that I am worth it if you are willing to believe that. One pair of boots in these pictures were worn on my third deployment, and the other pair were worn on construction sites, school campuses, and even dance floors for years after I left the Army.
How copy? Over.
Take this time for a musical intermission before we move along to the next point:
Now, where was I?
On that note:
I say again: how copy? Over.
Roger. Solid copy. Read you 5 by 5.