Epstein was taken off suicide watch even though he recently tried to commit suicide. He said he hadn’t tried to kill himself—other inmates had attacked him and left a nasty, ring-shaped bruise around his neck. He apparently talked his way off suicide watch. “I’m in a hella good mood,” he told his jailers. “Looking at a minimum 45 years in the pen and getting every dime of my fortune sued away might give some people pause, but I look back on a lifetime of accomplishments. Hey, I even got Alan Dershowitz laid! Why would I want to leave this earth? I mean, sure, some people think you get 72 virgins when you got to heaven, but I’m pretty sure I’ve already had at least 72 virgins, so what’s my motivation?
“Of course, I’m in federal custody, in a correctional system directly under the supervision of Donald Trump, so if I end up possibly murdered in my cell, the only logical person to blame is Hillary Clinton. I’ve always admired her skills. As the runner of a pedophile ring myself, I can only stand in awe of a fellow pedophiliac who can run her ring out of the basement of a pizza joint with no basement. And when I offered to fly Bill Clinton to my special Lolita island in the Caribbean, he turned me down. ‘All the teen cooch that Hillary’s been getting me has me worn down, dude,’ is what he said. So, we just flew to Africa to try and cure AIDS, but there’s your motivation right there. Hillary has always been afraid that Bill might prefer my sex slaves to her sex slaves.
“Trump, on the other hand, would never have me killed because we have been really solid bros ever since we tag-teamed that thirteen-year-old that filed suit against him, only to drop it later when she found the severed head of her gerbil in her girly pink canopy bed. When you’re beheading a pet rodent, I’ll tell you what really works—bolt cutters. So, I’d much rather be here, in federal custody, than at my mansion—under the protection of my President, rather than being exposed in my own house, with nothing but an ankle monitor to keep me from ending up like Seth Rich.
“I tell you who else I worry about getting to me—Putin! I’ve been worried about him ever since me and Trump watched the pee tape on his giant HD TV at Mar al Lago. Putin likes to poison, so when you bring me my Wheaties in the morning, would you also bring a Geiger counter so I can make sure they’re only normally radioactive?
“The other thing that makes me feel safe and comfy here is that if somebody should kill me and make it look like a suicide, which I definitely would not commit, promise, promise!—it would be sure to be investigated by Bill Barr. That dude is my kind of Attorney General. If he wants to get to the bottom of something, he gets to the bottom of it. And if he doesn’t want to get to the bottom of it, well, there probably is no bottom. And I’m sure he’d love to investigate something that really probably might happen, like Hillary leaving Scarborough to kill me in jail.
“So, don’t worry about me. Looking at a life sentence of being broke behind bars, with the closest thing to a teen sex slave I’m ever going to have again is a 19-year-old guy who calls himself Juanita, is not the kind of thing that gets a man like me down! Watch the other prisoners. Just leave me with some clothesline to hang these wet jeans on, will ya? And can I get an extension cord? I like the nice, thick yellow ones.
“And that belt you guys took away? Can’t find that silly thing anywhere.”