Fire away.

Check this out. Get it? I’m writing you a check, so I said check this out. Do you see what I did there? It’s called wordplay. Google it. But don’t try to tango with this cowboy. I am very, very, very, very, very good at using words. For example, I just used five very’s in a row without so much as batting a single eyelash. Besides being impossible, batting a single eyelash is an outward indication that somebody’s confidence is waning. Ergo my confidence IS NOT waning. Anyway, as usual, I’ve gotten way off topic. I came here today to talk to you about checks, and how much I love writing them. Strange, I know. You would think that writing a check would be a painful, even demoralizing exercise. After all, you are signing away a portion of your acorn stockpile (money) every time you Hancock that bottom line. Me? I find writing checks to be exciting and visceral; it makes me feel distinguished. To wit: I am able to purchase goods and/or services by simply writing my name on a piece of paper. Do you know who else pays for things by writing their name on pieces of paper? Titans of Industry, that’s who. That’s right: yours truly is rubbing elbows with Robber Barons, Steel Magnates and Ponzi Schemers every time he whips out the checkbook and ballpoint pen. You can tell a lot about a person by looing at the company they keep. Which is why you shouldn’t judge me for writing a check to purchase this football video game at a seedy electronics store (I’m out of cash).