This is the Christmas message written in ink on a bottle of whiskey wrapped in old newspapers I received from a friend (spelling and punctuation is from the original):
"To: The General
Fucking hell. I think it's here on Earth, but I just can't tell.
If it wasn't for Provinence pushing all those soft titties my way,
I'd be sure. May the new year and this gift allow you to do things
no one else can do, see things no one else can see and especially
to hear the lamentation of the women. UP THE IRONS! Love, That
Fucking Son of a Bitch."
I don't know what it means, but it just might be the best Christmas message anyone has ever given me. Coming soon: "What I Learned in 2003." I'll tell you one thing I learned from the message on the wrapping concealing the aforementioned whiskey bottle: There wasn't enough cross-referencing of Conan the Barbarian and Iron Maiden in 2003. Let's all try to change that.
10:46:28 PM 
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