Weaklings like yourself require back up, of course.
You still don't own shit tho, despite the rivulets of pee trickling down your leg just inches shy of your cane.
I reckon it is for you, padre. Perhaps you can ask your 125 yo mommy for a loan and a bottle of whiskey to tide you over till the next welfare check paid by a non-red State hits your trailer mailbox?
But do continue on you sainted meltdown, padre. Your anger, like your ass, is what I own.