To: All Staff
From: The Boss
While perusing a monograph on the North African Campaign of 1943, I recently came across this aphorism from none other than George S. Patton: “If a man does his best, what else is there?” Christ. Who knew that guy was such a giant pussy? But that’s the point. In the wake of calamitous events, I’ve been forced to reexamine a great many of my preconceived notions. Was there anything more I could have done to assure total victory last year? Did I fail to provide my troops with the necessary materiel for the fight? Have I become soft? My conclusion: Am I fucking nuts? Of course not. The fault is entirely yours. What the fuck more do you people want? I spend enough on salaries to stabilize the Argentine economy. Our clubhouse is so plush it embarrassed Donald Trump. Seriously. This year, I don’t want to hear any more bitching about sore shoulders, parasites, bursitis, back pain, steroid withdrawal, or any other whiny-assed ailments you people come up with. Buck up. That loser Vazquez is gone, and so are those two wackjobs from Havana. So no more excuses. And don’t you kid yourself for one second. I don’t care who you are: You fuck up this year, you’re gonna be working a mower in Columbus. Don’t test me.
Now let’s go out there and kick some ass!