This notation was penned in beside the photograph:
"...Josh...oops,
I mean Brad kept trying to feed me straw. Jane's a hottie, but her
husband's a friggin' idiot. Fer chrissakes, dude, I've got a butt going
here. Is he blind? I'm trying to smoke and here he's are trying to
domesticate me. Get a clue. I'm on my break and I'm a UNION llama: I
get what I want, when I want it. That's the power of labor!"
Sigh.
So, here we have more evidence of the Llamas descension into
leftist-celebrity brownnosing hell.
They really are a pair of suckups, aren't they? I wonder if there's a
twelve-step program for this sort of thing? I'm sure there is, but I'll
admit, I'm just too lazy to go looking for it. Anyhoo, as we all know,
the first step in any recovery of this kind is admitting you have a
problem and Steve's in serious denial. And I believe an intervention is called for.
Because, you know, I really do
care.
I hate to point out the obvious, but I never actually admitted defeat.
I simply said that a llama in a waistcoat would be better at playing
Mr. Darcy than Matthew MacFadyen. Nothing more. Nothing less. Methinks
the technical term is "projecting," but I'm no shrink, so I'll leave it
up to the medical community to label him appropriately. But for me,
I'll just say this: Good Gravy, man! Realize that's Josh Lyman trying
to feed you straw? Have you no shame?