Quit being a cheap ham and egger and hire a driver to drive your drunk ass about town. Next thing you know, your big, giant, fat, head is split down the middle–through the windshield–because you wanted to operate the automobile whilst drinking 40 ounces of malted liquor.
I hope everyone enjoys the New Year’s festivities. If you had a bad year, sweep it under the old 2014 rug and start anew tomorrow. I am very ritualistic on New Year’s eve, for it is the night of renewed hope and reaffirmed commitments.
I can’t believe it’s 2015 already. I remember New Year’s eve, 1999, like it was yesterday, hauling the fucking gallons of water up the stairs, for Mrs. Fly, who actually believed all of the computers were going to melt down because the number “2000” was too much of a burden for our antiquated computers to handle (cue visions of giant IBM computers circa 1955). Me, being a regular jackass, went to go buy them to make her feel happy, safe, and like I gave a crap about clean water and living in a post apocalyptic world.
She doesn’t know what you already know. “The Fly” WAS FUCKING BORN TO LIVE IN A POST APOCALYPTIC ERA, ONE THAT ESCHEWED STRONG MEN AND TRIBAL LEADERS, A TIME WHEN A MAN WITH AN ORBITAL SPACE CANNON (OSC) WOULD REIGN SUPREME AND ALL FELLOW FINANCE BLOGGERS BOWED DOWN TO HIS SUPREME, YET ELEGANT, RULE.
Happy New Year’s.
-Fly
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twnUE2yLdZA