jason turner would often volunteer at the senior citizens home near the retard shelter where he was court-ordered to live to avoid jail time for a race related hate crime.

I was impressed by his ability to stomach that sickening scent of aged feces that permeated the halls of the old folks home. It was one of the few glimpses of tenderness I had ever seen shine light on his usually grim countenance. This was until i got close enough to realize that jason turner was trying to cell cds of his home recorded folk music to seniors so eager for company that they would shell out 25$ for one of his shitty cds.

jason turner wasn't at the senior center to patiently listen to paint-drying-paced stories about the past lives of the aged, he would instead never let a word in edgewise while he would go on and on about the kind of music he liked to make,

"it's kind of like bright eyes meets ryan adams, do you like jack johnson? there's a little bit of that thrown in there as well... where do you keep a wallet in that hospital gown?"

when jason turner had collected enough money to buy another guitar shaped like a snake, he would leave the seniors with their empty pocket books and tear filled eyes, re-living the abandonment that had landed them there in the first place- relying on that sonofabitch jason turner for company.

i hope jason turner dies.