Sounds like a plan. I saw where the editor who quit had delayed leaving because she was concerned about his cognitive situation.
"Tell you, you cornstalk, you cabbage, you son of a cauliflower? It’s
the first time I ever heard such an unfeeling remark. I tell you I have
been in the editorial business going on fourteen years, and it is the
first time I ever heard of a man’s having to know anything in order to
edit a newspaper. You turnip! Who write the dramatic critiques for the
second-rate papers? Why, a parcel of promoted shoemakers and apprentice
apothecaries, who know just as much about good acting as I do about good
farming and no more. Who review the books? People who never wrote one.
Who do up the heavy leaders on finance? Parties who have had the largest
opportunities for knowing nothing about it. Who criticise the Indian
campaigns? Gentlemen who do not know a warwhoop from a wigwam, and who
never have had to run a foot-race with a tomahawk, or pluck arrows out
of the several members of their families to build the evening campfire
with. Who write the temperance appeals, and clamor about the flowing
bowl? Folks who will never draw another sober breath till they do it in
the grave. Who edit the agricultural papers, you—yam? Men, as a general
thing, who fail in the poetry line, yellow-colored novel line,
sensation-drama line, city-editor line, and finally fall back on
agriculture as a temporary reprieve from the poor-house. You try to tell
me anything about the newspaper business! Sir, I have been through it
from Alpha to Omaha, and I tell you that the less a man knows the bigger
the noise he makes and the higher the salary he commands. Heaven knows
if I had but been ignorant instead of cultivated, and impudent instead
of diffident, I could have made a name for myself in this cold selfish
world. "
I can’t wait for these old fuckers to die off, unfortunately I am talking about myself too.
“Something, something, ‘chronic vegetative state’ …”
Let’s start up a crowdfund to buy it …
and then burn it to the ground —
This is one wrinkly flabby gutted feller although who am I to judge - I have a two coach ticket sized ass
Sell it to whom?