Words of Comfort from Your Baron

Sons of Bitches! It is my sad duty to report that Frank Van Buer, Mayor of DeKalb (or as I like to call it..."Me Town") died today. I did not know the man as I have been dead for over 200 years but I'd like to think that if I met him I'd say something like 'Way to go d-bag. Who'da thought a guy could piss away 25 years of his life as an economics professor then do something useful? Well done Poindexter.' My final thoughts on the matter, before I go back to being dead myself...Say what you want about DeKalb's last mayor, his poor judgment, the graft, the tales of drunken debauchery...but Sparrow's liver outlasted Van Buer's pancreas. But what the fuck do I know? I only had my horse shot from under me, was shot three times myself and bayoneted repeatedly until I spewed enough obscenities to attract Cornwallis' attention, and he decided that he'd rather see me die at the hands of his personal surgeon than be run through by his filthy fucking Hessians...All so you dumb bastards can drink whiskey and cheap beer at the Annex, go see bigDrag Thursday at the House in Me Town and make fucking jokes about your dead king. Fuck me!