It is an insanely gorgeous day on the coast.  One of those rare times when the sun is blazing and the wind has not yet picked up.  I should be smiling.  I should be happy.  I should not think how he is trudging about on the Gray Planet with his only bit of sun breaking up as it comes through one inch steel grating.

But this is a mad day.  This is a blame day.  This is a day where I can't help but write him a letter that says he will never comprehend the hurt and pain he is putting his loved ones through no matter how much he is enduring.  Or, that I will go on to drill it home that all of this hardship is not because the system is unfair or the judge was not just, but because of the choices he made.  Not just the ones that got him into this luxury federal hotel, but all the ones leading up to it.  All the choices he made for his short term gratitude have created long term pain.  I even go on to point out that he chose incarceration as a way to stop having to make choices and because he had simply run out of ones that could induce relief for a life that he had so casually thrown away.  A life that had afforded him a lifestyle that few will ever know.  A lifestyle that his children have lost.  He simply pissed all he made and all he inherited away.  So now he lives at Club Fed where there is no mortgage to pay and no alimony to keep up with.  His current friends are other ex-brokers, disgraced attorneys and dishonest accountants.  It is a big slide from the West Chester Country Club crowd and the Palm Beach crowd and the Who's Who lists.  For me, it is complete humiliation even though none of my friends know.  On the inside I know.