For Whom the Term "40-Love" Has Got Nothing to Do with St. ides
...From the desk of Ryan Vanderboosh, illegal alien...
As the whole world (which, for the purposes of this post, i'll define as the half-dozen schmucks i'm on speaking terms with) knows, the Tungs are a devoutly unemployed people of ambiguous financial means. The grim thought of daily responsibility engenders a bitterness empirically unquantifiable, but best approximated by the single tear Jean-Claude Van Damme sheds upon hearing the icy "okay, thank you, who's next?" at his audition for the french voice-over of his own movie. Cruising by, the orangutan from Monkey Cop dips his Ray Bans over his new nose for a scornful look, flips JCVD the bird, and skates on, stylishly late for brunch with Soderbergh...
Well, it has recently come to my attention that Ko-Yung, who has been something of a father-figure to me, has struck out into the work force. Motion suggests he is toiling for the firm of Morris & Foerster (coincidently the Chocolate City office neighbors of the esteemed Corporate Executive Board) thereby rendering his employment secured, his financial means quite biguous. This is just the sort of apostatic malarkey the will be dealt with harshly come the revolution (which, for the purposes of this post, i'll define not as a movement to enfranchise blacks, workers, etc., or to any populist social upheaval, but as a general vision entailing the sudden, fiery, and rather arbitrary mass vaporization of people who bug me).
While foregoing many a couch-jockeying summer afternoon watching the most marginal of ATP events in his boxers is surely a devastating price to pay, i challenge you to procure a finer email address than kytung@MoFo.com.
As the whole world (which, for the purposes of this post, i'll define as the half-dozen schmucks i'm on speaking terms with) knows, the Tungs are a devoutly unemployed people of ambiguous financial means. The grim thought of daily responsibility engenders a bitterness empirically unquantifiable, but best approximated by the single tear Jean-Claude Van Damme sheds upon hearing the icy "okay, thank you, who's next?" at his audition for the french voice-over of his own movie. Cruising by, the orangutan from Monkey Cop dips his Ray Bans over his new nose for a scornful look, flips JCVD the bird, and skates on, stylishly late for brunch with Soderbergh...
Well, it has recently come to my attention that Ko-Yung, who has been something of a father-figure to me, has struck out into the work force. Motion suggests he is toiling for the firm of Morris & Foerster (coincidently the Chocolate City office neighbors of the esteemed Corporate Executive Board) thereby rendering his employment secured, his financial means quite biguous. This is just the sort of apostatic malarkey the will be dealt with harshly come the revolution (which, for the purposes of this post, i'll define not as a movement to enfranchise blacks, workers, etc., or to any populist social upheaval, but as a general vision entailing the sudden, fiery, and rather arbitrary mass vaporization of people who bug me).
While foregoing many a couch-jockeying summer afternoon watching the most marginal of ATP events in his boxers is surely a devastating price to pay, i challenge you to procure a finer email address than kytung@MoFo.com.
posted by Anonymous at 10:33 AM
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