I swear to ya, it ain't me. I mean, making a pseudo-ID out of a human hamhock requires standing on the razor's edge of absurdity, and no one could try to be this fucking stupid and get away with it.

Seriously, man, you might laugh with your buddies when you've concealed your deformity under the orange vest and you're picking up shit on the side of the road, but I have friends in LA county. There's probably a whole fucking colony of raccoons living in that patch of green smegma on your chest.

For the love of God, tell Pamela to get you another booking with the Leathermen Society, scrape together a few bucks from recycled cans, whatever, and get that fucking pustule lanced.

Or maybe you could glue the falsies back on? I'm just trying to come up with ideas here.