On the eve of the third year, JP Sartre, with whom Satan had entrusted this corner of Hell, took me from the room that housed Ayn Rand and Tucker Carlson, saying, "Upon reviewing your file, you need to be more severely punished." As we entered the new room, he told me, "Here is Mr. Dickens, and here is Senor Cervantes. They have agreed, as a condition of their Purgatorial sentence, to discuss 'A Christmas Carol' incessantly for the next 42 years. Ring the bell if you require refreshments."
On the eve of the third year, JP Sartre, with whom Satan had entrusted this corner of Hell, took me from the room that housed Ayn Rand and Tucker Carlson, saying, "Upon reviewing your file, you need to be more severely punished." As we entered the new room, he told me, "Here is Mr. Dickens, and here is Senor Cervantes. They have agreed, as a condition of their Purgatorial sentence, to discuss 'A Christmas Carol' incessantly for the next 42 years. Ring the bell if you require refreshments."
And we elected the rich man who is vicious twice. Woe is us. Now you tell us, Miguel!
This fella Cervantes had clearly been paying attention.
Translation for the cheap seats: Be a mensch.
Roger Miller's "King of the Road" comes to mind.