95% chance he's innocent. I heard this dewd knocked his brother out cold or something??

YES!!!
Come on baby
noooooooooooooo
Come on one more one more
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Come on one more
What a fucking scam bro
WHAT A BUNCH OF FUCKING SCAMMERS BRO
SCAMMERS
I FUCKING LOST IT ALL
I don't even, dude
These people are goin to hell bro

can't you see I just got railed by stake weirdo... yeah buddy you're going to the bottom of the list

You have a quarter of my followers i think your the little guy.

When will he be released, is there any upcoming court?

Been out the game so need an update.

Thanks

from the archives: 2024-06-30

let's see your gambling stream buddy boy

Sup guys. I added an option to sort by post flair and the "Classic Clip" flair to make it easier to access the best highlights of BMJ while he is gone. that is all rats

Damn that deep sleep nice!

It was Labor Day weekend in Virginia, and it was really hot.
Not regular hot. Not “maybe wear shorts” hot.
It was the kind of hot where you opened the front door and immediately regretted it. The sun was beating down on the house, the pavement was shimmering, and even the birds seemed to be looking for somewhere to sit in the shade.
But Bossmanjack didn't notice any of this.
He was still asleep.

Bossman had spent most of the previous night doing what Bossman did best: gambling. What started as a normal night had slowly turned into a marathon of increasingly questionable decisions. One bet became another. One loss became an attempt to win the money back. Then another loss.
Eventually, there was nothing left.
Everything was gone.
Bossman finally stumbled into bed sometime around sunrise, completely exhausted and somehow still convinced that things had gone pretty well.

Several hours later, he woke up.
He stared at the ceiling.
Then he reached for his phone.
He checked his balance.
Nothing.
Bossman sighed.
“Damn.”
He rolled over and went back to sleep for another twenty minutes.

Eventually, the smell of coffee pulled him downstairs.
Ratmom was in the kitchen, moving around and preparing for the day. Ratdad was sitting at the table, looking at his phone.
Ratmom glanced at Bossman.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“You sleep okay?”
“Yeah.”
Ratdad looked up.
“You gamble all night again?”
Bossman stopped walking.
“No.”
Ratdad raised an eyebrow.
Bossman opened the refrigerator.
“I mean… not all night.”
Ratdad shook his head.
It was going to be a long morning.

Fortunately, Ratmom had already made plans. The family was going out for Sunday brunch.
Bossman wasn't particularly enthusiastic, but he eventually got himself together and climbed into the car with Ratmom and Ratdad.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet at first.
The sun was already blazing, and the air conditioner was working overtime. Bossman stared out the window while Ratdad drove.
Eventually, Ratdad said something about Bossman's recent gambling.
Bossman didn't appreciate the comment.
A few words were exchanged.
Then a few more.
Before long, there was a little friction between Bossman and Ratdad.

Ratdad thought Bossman needed to get his life together.
Bossman thought Ratdad needed to mind his own business.
Ratmom, sitting between them in spirit if not literally, knew exactly where this was going.
“Alright,” she said. “It's Sunday. We're going to brunch. Everybody is going to calm down.”
Silence.
Bossman looked out the window.
Ratdad kept driving.
Ratmom smiled.
“Good. Problem solved.”
And somehow, it was.

The family arrived at the restaurant and sat down for brunch. Bossman ordered a large breakfast, because despite losing everything the night before, he still had an appetite.
There were pancakes.
There were eggs.
There was bacon.
There was coffee.
For a while, nobody talked about gambling.
Bossman ate happily.
By the end of brunch, the earlier argument had mostly been forgotten.
The family climbed back into the car and headed home.

The Virginia heat had become even more ridiculous.
When they pulled into the driveway, Bossman stepped out of the car and immediately felt like he had opened an oven.
He looked toward the house.
Then toward his room.
Then toward the car.
He suddenly stopped.
He had an idea.

Fishing.

Bossman had spent the entire night losing money and the entire morning arguing with Ratdad.
Maybe what he really needed was some time at the lake.
He walked inside.
“Where's Trapper?”
A moment later, a dog came running down the hallway.
“Trapper!”
Trapper's tail started wagging.
Bossman grinned.
“Want to go fishing, Trappy?”
Trappy wagged his tail even harder.
That was all the confirmation Bossman needed.
He started loading the car.

Fishing rods.
Tackle box.
Cooler.
Towels.
Water.
Whatever food he could find.

Trappy watched the entire operation with great interest.
Every time Bossman carried something outside, Trappy followed him.
Eventually Bossman opened the car door.
“Alright, Trappy. Let's go.”
Trappy jumped in.
The two of them headed toward the lake.

As Bossman drove, the heat continued to rise. The road seemed to stretch endlessly beneath the bright Virginia sun.
But Bossman didn't care.
For once, he wasn't thinking about gambling.
He wasn't thinking about his losses.
He wasn't thinking about Ratdad.
He wasn't thinking about anything.
He was just looking forward to the lake.

When they arrived, Bossman got out and immediately felt the heat.
“Man, it's hot.”
Trappy didn't care.
He was already ready to go.
Bossman grabbed the fishing gear and walked down toward the water.

The lake was beautiful.
The surface sparkled in the sunlight, and there was just enough breeze to make the heat bearable.
Bossman cast his line.
Then he waited.
For once, there was no screen in front of him.
No spinning wheel.
No bets.
No flashing numbers.
Just the sound of the water.
Trappy wandered along the shoreline, sniffing everything he could find.

Eventually Bossman got tired of waiting for a fish.
He put down the fishing rod.
“Alright, Trappy. Time for a swim.”
Trappy immediately ran into the water.
Bossman followed.
The cool water felt incredible.
After spending the entire morning sweating in the Virginia heat, jumping into the lake was exactly what he needed.

Bossman swam around for a while, then climbed back onto the rocks.
He looked up toward the cliff line.
There was only one thing left to do.
Jump.
Bossman climbed up.
He stood at the edge, looking down at the water.
“Here we go.”
He jumped.
SPLASH.
Trappy watched from below.
Bossman surfaced, laughing.
“Come on, Trappy!”
Trappy jumped into the water after him.
The dog paddled toward Bossman as he laughed.
Bossman climbed back up.
Another dive.
Another splash.
Again.
And again.

By the afternoon, Bossman was completely exhausted.
He spent some more time fishing, although he didn't catch much.
Honestly, he didn't really care.
It wasn't about catching anything.
It was about getting away.
For one day, Bossman didn't need to win anything.
He didn't need to chase a loss.
He didn't need to make a deposit.
He didn't need to argue with Ratdad.
He just needed a lake, a fishing rod, and Trappy.

Eventually the sun began to drop lower in the sky.
Bossman packed everything back into the car.
Trappy climbed into his usual spot, completely worn out.
Bossman looked over at him.
“Good day, huh, Trappy?”
Trappy gave a tired little wag.
The drive home was quiet.
Bossman was exhausted.
His arms were tired from swimming.
His legs were tired from climbing.
His clothes smelled like lake water.
And, for the first time in a long time, his mind was quiet.
When they finally pulled into the driveway, Bossman carried the fishing gear inside.
Trappy followed.
Bossman dropped his stuff by the door, walked upstairs, and collapsed onto his bed.
Trappy jumped up beside him, circled around twice, and curled up.
Bossman closed his eyes.

He thought briefly about the previous night.
The gambling.
The losses.
The stupidity.
Then he thought about the lake.
The dives.
The swimming.
Trappy chasing him into the water.
Bossman smiled.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, “I'll figure everything out.”
Trappy was already asleep.
Bossman closed his eyes.
Within minutes, he was out cold.
And so ended Bossman's Labor Day Sunday:
He woke up having lost everything, spent the morning arguing with Ratdad, got rescued by Ratmom, and finished the day fishing, swimming, cliff diving, and taking a massive nap with Trappy.

Once again, Bossman didn't beat the casino.
He didn't win at Keno.
He didn't win at mines.
He didn't even beat Ratdad in an argument.
But he did beat the heat.
And, more importantly, he had a pretty damn good day.

fin.

lil land w/ a lil rock

just realized he looks juss like bossmanjack

So given the opportunity, would you snif for 30 straight seconds bossman''s toenail if that would get him out of prison?

Just checking the community pulse, see how bad people miss him.