But really, HFIB are some lousy scumbags. I imagine them all on the way to a board meeting somewhere in a long line of limousines when one of them spots a dead animal on the side of the road and all the cars screech to a halt so the HFIB goons can scramble out on all fours and gnaw at the carcass, fighting over the “good parts.” When they finally get to the meeting they can’t concentrate on any business because they are distracted by an overwhelming pent up excitement over the possibility of finding more half-rotted carrion on the way back to their home base. Home base being where they grease each other up with a proprietary mixture of Vaseline and baby Harp seal fat (patented by Idealab!) and roll around in the “cash room” – a thousand square foot room filled four feet deep with brand new pennies.
Isn't that pure brilliance. That's some good writing right there.