AN OPEN LETTER TO THE STAILEY CORPORATE SLUSH FUND

 Dear backstabbers and sycophants,
                
      It is with devilish glee and many beers that I silogate your mangy hides from slobberspace this afternoon, the 40th of whatever month this was.
      One drunken morning 40 years ago, Roger Cormorant and myself stumbled upon a bum and birthed a great philanthropic idea. It was called the MORNING 40 FOUNDATION, and was designed to function much as the local social aid and pleasure clubs do.  But due to my misplaced fanaticism for police state tactics, we quickly became a    FEDERATION (goddammit,I meant to get a patent on that name!).  Well,the rest is too much history, and the present is worse than Vietnam.
   
  Here's the part where STAILEYCORP comes all over
itself-- I request permanent retirement of my post,fellow bored members and steakholders, for the following reasons:

1. STAILEYCORP FIBS ABOUT FINANCES
      I actually got to speak to the titular head of STAILEYCORP himself, Mr. Fingers, shortly before the last two tours. He assured me (and all others, I'm told) that each of us would be paid $300 per week for our time taken away from actual employment. No white lies here; that one turned out to be a whopper.  It just hit me like a 40 upside the head —only morons work for free (just ask Fingers and Phony about their infamous $100 merchandise "miscount" at Bon Temps).
Don't get me wrong, now — I did enjoy cashing my meager royalty check, so do keep em' comin'.

2. DON'T WANNA BE IN "CHILDREN OF THE CORM' PART 40"
      No more do I long for the live thrill of matching musical wits with a nimrod. As a running gag, it turns out our feckless leader can neither sing nor play his horn in tune with the instruments around him to save his federal soul.  There stands the glass as I contemplate the glacial pace of songs yet to come...not terribly excited about the notion of providing another righteous 'bone treatment for another of our boy's reverse-oedipal anthems. Too COMPLEX.

3. THE CENTER CANNOT HOLD
     There is no light at the end of the funnel, boys.
Mutual hatred does not an ensemble make. Gentleman Sleaze, I am pointing at you and your husband.

     That's 37 points shy of what I wanted to convey to all of you at STAILEYCORP, but I'm now out of beer, so take this job and shove it.
                                     
              -Duke