In which aspiration gets followed down a dark alley by reality

and wakes up with a headache hours later in dumpster without its wallet, watch, cell phone or pants.









People wonder why reporters have a reputation for becoming cynical drunks...I wonder why more of us don't end up pouring scotch on our corn flakes every morning. Hell, even the New York Times isn't what it used to be.

A tip of the hat to lensman clzoomer for pointing us to this.

Tweet