Economy
Just sold Rafe’s soiled tuxedo to a person on the internets. I also located a robot I want to buy. The robot is expensive, and I will have to sell at least 4 more tuxedos to cover the cost. What in the holy fuck is going on? Just a year ago, I could buy twenty robots for the price of two tuxedos. Now I can’t trade a saint’s finger for a bottle of sherry.
This reminds me of the time I sold a set of Diana Ross cupboard knobs to a man in Schenectady. He didn’t have any money but he owned a parsley farm. “So? Send me some parsley,” I told him, and he did. He’s dead now, but what of it? He got his knobs and I got my parsley. I don't see what all the fuss is about.
This reminds me of the time I sold a set of Diana Ross cupboard knobs to a man in Schenectady. He didn’t have any money but he owned a parsley farm. “So? Send me some parsley,” I told him, and he did. He’s dead now, but what of it? He got his knobs and I got my parsley. I don't see what all the fuss is about.
7 Comments:
That's the problem with the invisible hand -- you never know where it's been. Filthy stuff, economics.
The cost of robots is really putting strain on the hard-working average middle-class white American. And who's to blame for this? Belgium. As always. Fucking Belgium. I've had enough.
Who is this Rafe, and why does he soil his tuxedos so? A truly creative individual would simply sell Rafe, and buy a robot in a tuxedo, ensuring years of worry-free unsoiled style and sophistication at dinner parties and operas. Time to think outside the box, Esther.
Of course, one must be careful with one's robot's allergies. The merest touch of polyester and it's all "Crush! Maim! Destroy!", with the lurching and the thrashing and the disembowelling. No-one needs that when you're trying concentrate on Aida...
Quite how you have managed to survive with that filthy Rafe creature, I don't know. You are too kind, girl... I imagine Rafe got a share in the parsley?... You are your own worst enema.
I've used the Googles to find out more about Rafe. Apparently he makes handbags. So now it all makes sense.
Has that Bush inflation got around to raising the price of soiled tuxedos, to say nothing of Rafe's soiled tuxedos?
Damn saint's fingers are going up, too. This is the shits.
My saint's finger cures the shits, Snakey. Simply insert carefully and lo! thou art cured - rise, and squirt no more!
Also works for nosebleeds, tho' a quick spin in the dishwasher is probably in order first (normal wash, rinse, avoid the heated dry)...
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