I had my life all planned out. I was going to eat dinner this evening, sporting a bowed necktie with napkin tucked firmly into my shirt to protect against the occasional, accidental spill, dining on the finest of mutton–topped with mint jelly. I was going to drink one of my finer 2005 or 2009 Bordeaux’s–because both years represent the very best vintages in over 300 years. After supper, I was going to retire to my parlour to finish reading a 17th century book (original copy), accompanied by a cup of tea.
Instead of all that, “The fuckhead Fly” is going to eat a hotdog and swig down a hot beer, because to be able to drink a cold one would mean I deserved it somehow. The stars and every planet in our galaxy have moved against me, cursing me to the dungeons of mediocrity. My enemies are laughing at me in stentorian tones, poking fun at “The Once Great Fly” while DMing some homosexual retards on Stocktwits.
You are permitted to scold me now–because I intend to scald you later. Being long a checking account known as VHC and the very worst silver stock on the planet (EXK) was not enough for yours truly. I had to fire a pistol and make sure that the gunpowder exploded in my face. Aside from all of that, life is a peach and I hate every single one of you.
Comments »