"Grrr...how can I ruin that young idiot, George Bailey...?"
Oh, Dick, it's won't be the same not having a soulless, charmless ideologue-cum-chickenhawk-cum-defense industry incubus running the shadow government from an office by Charon's ticket booth, but, really, from the heart: fuck you. All the way back to Pottersville.
1 comment:
Hey now, give the old fella a break. It's not his fault that his forked tail is overtaking his lower limbs, transforming into a fat, greasy, sqirming tentacle with a venomous spike at the end.
Oh, wait, maybe it is.
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