Err... not sure whether you're joking about my joke, or whether my humor was even more opaque than usual... in the interest of clarity: I did not whip out a Glock Fortay, wave it around and yell GUNS AND COFFEE as loud as I could. Not even after a couple of Venti Skinny Two Hundred Degree Cinnamon Dolce Lattes.
Like I told the cops, that wasn't me.
The answer, it seems to me, is wrath. The mind cannot foresee its own advance. --FA Hayek Specialization is for insects.
Hell, I forgot all about this, but ended up hitting the Quantico Starbucks, anyway.
Was visiting MCIA, which is booooooriiiiinnnnngggggg, and I knew I'd need some concoction that started with the words "triple-shot..." to keep from nodding off in front of the worst sort of folks (glittery stuff on collars and Masters-of-the-Universe Syndrome).