Buried in the middle of Choire's fuck-the-war,-let's-eat-carbs and-have-unsafe-sex speech: "As I look back to my pre-teen years, I remember my most closely cherished dream: my secret lust was for money, vast shitloads of it. At night I clutched my pillow and imagined it to be a harsh burlap sack with a big black dollar sign on it. All I really need is a couple million to start, enough to buy something not revolting in Manhattan that'll triple in value in a decade. From there I will build my slumlord empire, fleecing foreign NYU students and evicting the pregnant and the infirm."
Operation My Chunky Ass [East/West]