Is this guy on heroin? If he thinks Google will hand him their name wrapped
in cellophane and Scotch tape, he's really in need of some primal
therapy.
He needs to take an aspirin with some koolaid from the thermos, put
a bit of dry ice on his forehead, and calm down. Once he comes to his senses,
he should take the escalator up to his lawyer's office and leave a post-it on
his attorney's formica desk and a dictaphone message telling him to stop
yo-yoing around and to zipper this lawsuit shut rather than tossing more
kerosene on the fire.
As it stands now, he's driving recklessly down a
dark, rainy tarmac road with no catseyes to mark the center line. He's headed
straight for the dumpster.
Google is going to take him to the laundromat by
presenting the memeographed, xeroxed, and videotaped evidence that he's totally
looney tunes. They won't even have to use the polaroids. The evidence will
stick better than super glue on velcro! They'll knock him to the linoleum so
hard that will take more than a band-aid to patch him up, and more than clorox
and a kleenex to clean up the bloody mess. There won't be enough left of him to
hoover up, and he won't be left with enough cash to buy a lava lamp.
If he's
lucky and stops this in time, he'll still have enough money to put some petrol
in his jeep, rent a u-haul, and go on a nice vacation in a tropical zip-code
where he can wear a speedo and relax to the muzak while in the jaccuzi. Or,
take his jet-ski and aqualung to get some kodak snaps of some tranquil
underwater scenery around the reef. In the evening, he can take some jello,
coke, and popsicles from the fridgidare and put them in a styrofoam cooler; put
on some chap-stick and lanolin sun tan oil; and stretch out on the astro-turf
and watch some tivo'd sports on the hotel jumbotron with dolby surround
sound.
Otherwise, he's going to need a lot of vaseline.
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