From June, 2016.

Everyday’s Halloween for this kid.

Mennonite?

That’s right, little one. With all his money and influence, the most daddy could manage was running a brewery. Not even a restaurant.  But there’s a place next door selling street food, when it’s open.

One of these people is an idiot. The other is terribly unfortunate.

When the oligarchy begins to fail, this is what it looks like.

The big one whines a lot.

With that face, he could’ve joined the circus.

Somewhere, Richardson Preyer is weeping.

And you just know this bug-eyed prince is going into politics.

He thinks making a kid makes him a man.

Effete fucking liberal.

I thought it would be cruel to terrorize a poor millennial.

His mom is gonna beat my ass.

Daddy should’ve been named Frank.

I wonder how that hair goes over in the Hamptons.

BTW, would someone please disabuse me of the notion that the CCL is one of world’s biggest bullshit factories?

Would some please explain to me how Vick’s Vapo-Rub and NyQuil weren’t patent medicines with dubious therapeutic value?

Absent significant objection, I’m left with the conclusion that these people are magnificent frauds.  That, in fact, brewing beer is the most honest pursuit this family has engaged in for generations.

I’ve never been a fan of evangelism, even if it is directed at executives.  I’m left with the belief that more effective management increases productivity and reduces labor cost.  We have a word for this: neoliberalism.

Tell me CCL doesn’t promote globalism and I’ll tell you it isn’t the enemy of nationalism.

Doesn’t this seem odd?

So, I walk into the bar at La Bamba tonight after work and there they sit: the whole fam damily.  The richest kid in Greensboro was entirely unkempt and fat, wearing a local beer t-shirt, dungarees and flip flops probably made by an Iguana in Tobago.

I got a good beer, checked out Twitter on my cell phone and waited for the Wife.

All of a sudden, the kid had fallen from whatever great height they had him perched, and for a second they thought the scion was dead.  Fortunately, the kid regained its petulance and the rest of their meal was spent bargaining with him to stay long enough to eat.

Had the kid died, I’m sure they would’ve stopped to wolf down their taco salads.

The most recent season of Fargo featured a loan shark who wore cheap suits and had bad teeth so no one would suspect him of being a billionaire.  Likewise, the richest kid in Greensboro has gone native.  Indeed, I pitied him and everyone he knew.

This attire and hirsute appearance, for all I know, may be all the rage in that far away place where they were bound.  Maybe they can convince him to stay.  But probably not.