Hi folks! It’s Drew Peterson, local celebrity and James Glasgow’s favorite whipping boy, live from cell block 8 in the Will County Adult Detention Facility. It’s been a whole two weeks since I’ve gotten any of the media attention I so richly deserve, so it’s about that time again to share with you all the thoughts and musings of your much-maligned media darling! And don’t act like you’re disgusted by the Herald News printing what I have to say from prison either. What the hell else are you going to read in that paper? Reports about the Taste of Joliet? I could do that from fucking prison: It was stupidly expensive, the food sucked because there are no good restaurants in Joliet, Loverboy were fat and washed-up, KC and the Sunshine Band were old and washed-up, and Kenny Rogers was fat, old, AND washed-up. That’s not news. Anyone with functioning brain cells would have had the good sense to know these things BEFORE the Taste so they wouldn’t throw away money by going. I’m the news. The mention of my name alone sells newspapers. I’m what’s on everyone’s mind right now. It’s my world, and you’re all just fortunate enough to live in it. Everyone except my ex-wives, that is. HEY-O! *Rimshot*
My main focus for today is going to be Casey Anthony and her trial. But have no fear, my faithful followers. We won’t deviate too far away from my favorite subject—me!
- Living in isolation fucking blows. You know how hard it is to find ways to entertain yourself when you’re only given limited interaction with the other inmates? Sometimes the guards give me books to read, but everyone knows that reading is for faggots. I tried to get one of the guards to play I Spy with me, but its really fucking hard to find new things to spy when you’re completely encompassed by white walls and bars. There’s a TV in here too, but we don’t get HBO. What the fuck? You better fix that shit, Paul Kaupas, lest you too want to end up in a 55 gallon barrel at the bottom of a lake.
- While we’re on the topic of isolation, it would at least be nice to have a roommate to hang out with in here. I hear all the other inmates talk about the fun things they do with their cellmates, and it makes me jealous. They cuddle together at night and make each other salads. All I want is a little love and affection. And something else besides that discarded public school-lunch mystery meat to eat for meals. That shit is repulsive, seriously. I’d rather have that Hershey’s syrup salad I keep hearing the guys talk about so much. It sounds delicious! No hair in mine though, please!
- Time for a Stacy update! Last time we heard from Stacy, she was leaving her comfortable home in Bolingbrook with her children and big-dicked, godlike husband behind to live with another man in some other part of the country where apparently she receives no cell phone service, because she won’t answer anybody’s calls, or where news doesn’t get reported, because she should have responded to everybody’s nationally broadcasted pleas to come back home. Even though she has been missing for almost four years now, I know that she is alive and living with some other guy still and inexplicably ignoring everybody from back home. I know this to be true because I totally did not kill her. After much deliberating and hypothesizing, I have concluded that she must be living in the Underworld with the Vampires. It makes perfect sense! Nobody is able to contact her, because they don’t get our same communication waves down there. But, I still refuse to participate in any searches for her, because I am a Lycan, and the Death Dealers know my weaknesses and will exterminate me on sight, even in human form!
- Rob Lowe has been cast to play me in a movie about me. Please note that the movie is not about my wives or their disappearances. The movie is about me, and they just happen to be in it as well. Just like the newspapers, everyone knows that you’re going to be watching that flick to see how yours truly is portrayed. White women go missing all the time, big deal. If you can’t find one, you move on to the next story. There’s only one Drew Peterson though, and I am THE story! Were talking box office gold here! Studio execs can just sit back and count their billions as this cash cow rakes in dough for years to come. What? It’s a Lifetime Channel movie? Whatever, it’ll still be a ratings bonanza, even if it is being aired on the “Women Being Thrown Down Stairs” Channel. OOH! I hope they recreate the scene where I threw Kathleen down the staircase one time! That’d be fucking hysterical! Regardless, while Rob Lowe is a good choice to play me, I would have casted a little differently. I was thinking more…
That’d be fucking badass. And that little shit James Glasgow can be played by:
Little punk.
- Now, a word about Casey Anthony. First off, fuck her for hogging MY spotlight. How is everyone supposed to remain captivated by my every move when you’re stealing all the attention away from me? I digress. Yesterday’s verdict was a victory for the justice system. What we had in the trial of Casey Anthony was simply a lack of hard, physical evidence that could link her to the death of her daughter Caylee. Sure, there was the smell of death in the trunk of the car that belonged to Casey. Sure, the same type of duct tape, laundry bags, and other supplies that were discovered at the crime scene were found in her house. Sure, there was the internet search history that contained tags such as “Chloroform” and “Internal Bleeding” and “Death.” But where was the evidence that she actually handled the body? Where was the semen at the scene of the crime? If the perp had dumped the body, then ejaculated at the crime scene, this mystery would have been solved three years ago. But they didn’t. And the jury reached the conclusion that Casey was not guilty based off the fact that there was no physical evidence linking her to the crime. And that is because the jury was educated by reliable learning sources such as CSI and Superbad. A real group of intellects, that bunch. Hopefully my jury is as well-informed! So no matter what that cunt of a raving lunatic Nancy Grace shrieks about on TV, the ol’ rule applies here: No forensics? No dice!
- One of the other attacks on Casey Anthony is the “irregular” behavior she has displayed in the time after her daughter’s death, most notably the partying and barhopping and what have you. I say party on girl! I myself like to grace the commoners with my presence at the local bar scene when I’m not locked up and have them take pictures with me and sign autographs and wipe my face on pieces of linen cloth so that it leaves an image of my face on the cloth. It helps me forget about all those false accusations and mean things Jim Glasgow says about me, just like it helps her.
- Finally, a proposal for Casey. You’re beautiful. I want you. And I know you need me. Not a man like me. You need me, specifically. I know you’re a free woman now, and I’m locked up doing hard time. But we should get married. Never mind the fact that I’m still technically legally married to my fourth wife, and I recently became engaged to another woman 30 years my junior 3 years ago. I don’t really like her that much, though. She doesn’t even come and give me conjugal visits! What the hell kind of fiancé doesn’t come for conjugal visits? I also don’t really know when I’m getting released from jail, either. But we were meant to be. I can take all the pain away from you, get you away from your overbearing parents, and show you a happy life. We can escape out west, away from all this craziness, and live in a log cabin in the mountains with a garden, and have pets and kids. Well, uh, maybe not kids. But we’ll never have to work again because our combined book and movie and television deals will pull in enough money to last us three lifetimes. And I promise to always be gentle and caring and exhibit passionate love for you. Unless you cross me, then you’re gonna find yourself hanging out with Lisa Stebic.
Or if that doesn’t suit your fancy, maybe you could pay me a conjugal visit? Eh? Eh? How can you resist a living legend? YOU CAN’T.
