What Does Marsellus Wallace Look Like? Or, "You may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps."

I was going to write one of those oogie "strong in the broken places," posts, but then I remembered who I am.

Here, in a nutshell, is where I started out today:

Butch: So we cool?

Marsellus: Yeah, we cool. Two things. Don't tell nobody about this. This shit is between me, you, and Mr. Soon-To-Be-Living-The-Rest-of-His-Short-Ass-Life-In-Agonizing-Pain Rapist here. It ain't nobody else's business. Two: you leave town tonight, right now. And when you're gone, you stay gone, or you be gone. You lost all your L.A. privileges. Deal?

Butch: Deal.

Marsellus: Get your ass out of here.

And oh! I uploaded a new profile picture. Still don't know what I did on my Blackberry to kill the other one, but oh, well.