Friday, February 21, 2025

How Rich Is He?

Quincy Madison is standing with another man, in glasses who is shorter than him. "Ah, yes, Mr. Veeblefetzer, let me revel in stimulating fact-packed articles providing accurate forecasts of future trends. I prefer to feel that I am a wicked, witty observer of life! One who would prefer his spark to burn out in a brilliant blaze rather than be stifled by dry rot!" The other man just stares at him angrily. "One thing about you, Madison, even if you have nothing to say, you say it!"
March 19, 1966
Quincy does seem kind of snooty and not a good reader of people. If it weren't 1966, he'd definitely be autistic. Instead, he's just...well, kind of snooty and not a good reader of people.

"How rich is your boss, Mr. Veeblefester?" Wilberforce asks Brutus, who is sitting in his green chair. "He's so rich that when he's at a wishing well, he tosses in a silver dollar and he doesn't even bother making a wish." "Wow!" Wilberforce exclaims.

"Wow! We should kill and eat him. We should seize the means of production. We should rise up and eliminate our capitalist overseers. Burn down the country, and start anew!"

This doesn't make any sense. Veeblefester would never waste money on a wishing well, no matter how much it is.
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