BTB, He Knows What About What

Bald Tire Bob, he eased himself nice & slow out of hiding, being that he was reasonably sure the Feds had given on up and moved themselves to harassing other Americans who ain’t as much on the ready like Bob: like Bob says, when the black sedans pull up in front of the house is not the time to be figuring yourself out where the flashlight batteries are. Bob, he keeps a generator in the woods disguised like a dead cow, even the flies fall for it.

Heck, sometimes it does a man good to go all off the radar a bit and live low and steady, gives himself a chance to brush up on the slippy skills: for instance, Bob he only paid for his cases of Colt .45 with rolls of nickels, no way the Feds were gonna trace him by the spy strips in their paper money, it’s a fact.

Now, Bob he knows not all Feds are trouble, some are just doin’ their job to pay for the Mrs’ minivan, but if you set yourself up as a hand-puppet of the government you best can’t complain about their fingers all stickin’ up your glove, if you know what about what.