Blister here. That's right, the year in review is on the way. What's that? Yes, Wound-up Corp. took a giant shit in '08, no question. But we're still solvent. That's the motto I printed out on one of those old dot matrix printers and put above Sales' cubicles: WOUNDUP CORP. — STILL SOLVENT.
I'm not afraid. I know what it means to start with nothing. I had to work my ass off to get here. All that hanging around the Westchester Yacht Club, cruising for debs. Then convincing my first wife to marry me, after all the things I made her do in the sack. She was offended, yes, but ultimately she respected a man with conviction: the conviction to get my hands on her inheritance. Her old man had his head blown off running grenade launchers to neo-Marxists in Honduras, and sure enough that money was hers (mine). With that bread, I built this company. It was a fuck of a lot of hard work, folks, as I said.
Looks like I'm giving you gold before the goose ... uh ... I forget how that one goes. Whatever. No more for today. You have to tune in later to read the full report. A lot of heads rolled this year, and the seven-person content team was pissing its pants daily over lay-off rumors. There's nothing scarier to a liberal arts wastoid than the prospect of having to get a real job. God, I'd love to fire 'em, but this site is all we have right now. Doesn't mean I can't whip my Bud empties at the backs of their heads, bunch of fruits.