As the gentleman next to me is watching me search the google wide web for golden hemorrhoids something hit me. What in God's name must be going through his head, and how awkward he now feels for nosing in on other peoples business. Little does he know that if this were biblical times he'd be getting the golden treatment for penetrating my tabernacle with his dim, unclean eyes. His white blood cell count would plummet with the death of 50,000 of his helpers become devastated by the shivers and shakes of his changing body temperature that his sins have brought upon him.
Will he know of his trespasses? Or the sacrifice so required? And where do you find a golden hemorrhoid these days? The Vein Proctologist? That Assman. Perhaps an overly Anal Arts Dealer? I can already see his tippy toes starting a dance soon to shake the foundation of his tract-rearing him soon to life. And I suppose he has Horses, and with them comes cattle, but will he know? Oh! how should he ever know! And where's he to find a bank in this valley supposedly brimming with promises?
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