I told you to stop shooting your mouth off, and now look where it got you. Fired by a guy who puts ketchup on a steak. And his Irish general friend. If it makes you feel any better, your worst meal was better than anything they ever put in their mouths.
I'm sorry you got fired. You were funny. Not like the rest of those jamokes.
Well, take a vacation. Write a book. I'll buy it, promise. And if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me. Actually, you don't know where to find me.
Ask the Russians. They probably do.
In boca al lupo and don't be a stranger.
Your fourth cousin, once removed,