22o00’ N Latitude, 77o00’ W Longitude
Some of you, to put this as gently as I know how, are dumber than a box of chapattis. If you really want to know where My ex-wife is, I would suggest either the Hermes store on Madison Ave. or her divorce lawyer’s waterbed. It’s usually a toss-up.
I almost blame Myself. Not for your stupidity and/or ignorance – that’s down to genetics, culture and family income. No, I almost – almost – blame Myself because I let My boys take art classes for a while. Neither of them could competently draw a stick man, but I was still feeling a little guilty about the hippie one getting mounted like a butterfly specimen and I couldn’t very well let Him take lessons without including his brother, the Young Republican. So I had this Leonardo fellow come in twice a week and it was a monumental waste of his time and My money. Like most of Their interests, it didn’t last long, but as a result, the boys left a number of Their hideous creations lying around. You know how it is with celebrity artwork; no matter how bad it is, somebody will want it. As far as I can recall, however, We didn’t leave anything behind on Our one vacation to the Sun.
Perhaps I should blame outsourcing. Dumb Americans used to be the go-to group for bad artwork of My family. Now pudding-headed Indians are filling the niche once occupied by the United States’ vast reserves of witless dolts. If I weren’t on vacation I might be tempted to back John McCain after all. When George is gone, who else would be more qualified to extend America’s recent legacy of knuckleheadedness and put a stop to the outsourcing of stupidity?
Of course, it’s not as if I really care. I’m on vacation. Although I’m no eyeballologist, I will give you a little free advice: Don’t stare at the sun.
Wish You Were Here,