Post by Tovarisch Khrushchev on Aug 27, 2009 8:23:27 GMT -5
I have a thought. My old bones stand shambling outside your fine establishment. My suit is in tatters, my hair is an absolute wreck, and I think I'm down to my last bottle of the good stuff. I've already chewed through my microphone cord, and I could certainly use a needle in the spine to get me going again. I figured your fine establishment would be the best place to freshen up. Any of you intellectuals got a syringe for an old man?