Muger, you got to be crazy, you gotta have a real need. You gotta sleep on your toes and when you're on the ATP Council you've got to be able to pick out the cupcake draws with your eyes closed. And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight, you've got to lie when the moment is right without thinking.
And after a while, you can work on points for style; like the man's purse, and the dull all-serve game and a certain look in the eye and the phony smile. You have to be trusted by the Fedtards that you lie to so that when they turn their backs on you you'll get the chance to put the knife in.
Muger, you gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder. You know, it's starting to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older. Yeah, and in the end you'll pack up and fly down south and hide your head in the sand. Just another sad old man all alone and dying of envy.
And when you lose control, you'll reap the harvest you have sown. And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and you lose to Rafole and it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around!!!
So have a good drown, Muger, as you go down all alone, DRAGGED down by Rafole !!!