That’s Easy, Gimme Something with TEETH!
A belly full of turpentine swilled rot gut, a drunken decadruple somersault down the slippery slope, a greasy slalom from one thing to another, and somehow, I’m blearily writing an inebriated screed to one Mr. Joel Johnson, subject line: “I QUIT, FAT BROOKLYN METRO-PUKE.”
It happens. Unfortunate, yes, but heretofore unavoidable. But Google’s latest addition to GMail plays defense between your impolitic inebriation and your friends and co-workers.