. . .Rich? Privileged? You know what I had for breakfast this morning? Crackers and cheese and quinine water; that's what! And you call me a rich man!
But you could have dined with rich buggers and their wives on fine English tea and marmalade--if you'd got up before noon. Right?
Well, . . . that's entirely possible. But I shant have been less miserable! I'm entitled to my misery, goddammit! No matter what it does or does not cost.
. . .Then the rain came down and fistulated our frijolés, rendering us corn dwellers for the remainder of that particular eternity, don't ya know.
. . .Yes, they come for miles to witness my all-purpose prowess and, no, there's nothing I can do but wish them a fine journey.
. . .So, what will it be: Angelina Jolie in Lips of Ginormity or the Sunday paper and a cup 'o yesterday's Joe?