Bastards Eric, Matt and Jay called an emergency assembly in Nashville this past Saturday. And as three bastards is all we need for a quorum (Bastard Charter, Article 1, Section 8, Clause 1), several pressing orders of business were addressed. Perhaps the most surprising was Grand Poobah's closing pronouncement, which I quote word-for-word below:
Joe is no longer Consigliari. He's going to be our lawyer in Vegas. That's no reflection on Joe it's just the way I want it.
11 comments:
If we had a Sicilian, we wouldn't be in this mess.
Next time, wear hoods when you're out in public. Not the white ones, of course, but maybe the plaid ones. Also, I think I see a fucking WINE glass on the table.
Matt was the wine-drinking bastard!
Joe: Eric, why am I out?
I like how it took Jay 2.3 seconds to sell Matt down the river.
Poobah: "You're not a wartime Consiglieri, Joe. Wartime consiglieris do not post about Neko. Things could get rough with the move we're making."
I was going to bitch about having to go to Vegas, but anything for the team. Remind me who we're at war with...
Shit. I forget - I think we're at war with any Raleigh-Durham area preparatory academies competing with Dave for music video supremacy.
And you can bang cocktail waitresses 2 at a time there!
I had to drink wine to try to bring a little sophistication to the emergency meaning. After Jay wiped the vomit off Eric's face from doing body shots of Jagermeister off the maitre'd, we need a little more class to the affair.
I love the smell of Jagermeister in the morning.
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