All things considered, today is an ornery gentleman on the verge of a total pulmonary infarction.
So, since we’re all in the same boat, might as well bring our unique benders to the stage and rivet that audience through their tenure in those uncomfortable seats while they’re shifting around, groaning and fumbling with hard candy wrappers.
Exquisite, is it not? That gallant patriarch wrangler has struck again, and he skipped away with six of our proprietary cultures! That devious bastard, I hope they fry him.
Anyway, as I’ve been known to say: the illusion of sterility is wasted on the fertile.
I really wish I could use my arms.