He who reads these words of wit

"George Stalmos Plato was a rugged individual of ordinary vices, but few thought that he would rob a bank and shoot a handful of policemen during his daring escape, and they were quite right, he didn't.

Instead, he played Parcheesi all day in an underground Chinese gambling den, filled with smoke and the aroma of countless people reenacting pivotal scenes from 'The Deer Hunter'. He played for keeps, and had a huge collection of Parcheesi pieces hidden under the floorboards in his second story walkup outside of Hoboken, Wisconsin.

There, he spent most of his nights sleeping off the whiskey he stole from the other kids desks at Mrs. Henderson's 4th grade class that he attended daily.

His parents, of course, objected strenuously to these audacious undertakings, but the job of a mortician payed well, and there was plenty of time to finish his homework, the clients weren't going anywhere in a hurry.

One time George attempted to skydive, but gravity wouldn't allow it. Because you can only fall down, not up, he discovered. I'm pretty sure he wrote that down, but he was pretty woozy from the serious head injuries he had sustained during this ill fated adventure, and was lucky to make it home in time for his brother's bar mitzvahs the following day.

So, anyway, I'm sure there was a point to this, but my doctor tells me that, due to court order, I'm no longer able to steal his psychiatric files and must resort to merely repeating what Wikileaks posted, which was very little, considering that he lives inside my thumb."

The preceding paragraphs were found scrawled on a bathroom wall at the McDonald's down the street from our corporate headquarters here on the Moon, and we figured it beat the pants off most of the articles we steal here at Prefect Entertainment "Your Unending Source for Edufuntainment, Where Fun is Always Crammed in to Every Damn Thing" (PUYUSEWFACEDT on the NYSE Ticker).