Yeah. Unbelievable. Some freak from BofA contacted me yesterday. Said: 'Hi, Mikey, we read your post on Greg and Tom, and you're just the man we want. How about being the chief of our new global wealth and investment management operations?' And I was like, 'Are you out of your friggin' mind? Do you know how busy I am? Halloween is coming up.' Then he said they could wait until after Halloween. He said BofA really wanted me because I know all about chakras and auras and shit. Well, it's nice. It's nice being asked, but I can't get involved. And I don't even know if I'm doing anything this Halloween. Not after last year's debacle. If I'm being honest with you, I was using Halloween as a bit of an excuse. I don't want to be a corporate nutjob, working for the man. I value my freedom too much.
But get this. The freak phones me back about an hour later. I'm trying to eat a cheese sandwich. The freak tells me, 'We're going with Jack Pickles.' I spit my sandwich out all over a brand new ceremonial gown that I only bought last week. Cost me a fortune. I was trying it on, you know, Halloween and all, Big Herb temple, I might go. Anyway, I recovered my composure, but then started laughing. I said to the freak, 'Are you arseholes complete arseholes or something? Jack will take you for every cent. He'll strip BofA clean. This guy is evil. He's working for Satan. And you want him?' Then the freak said that BofA had heard good things about Jack. And I was like, 'From who? The ghost of Rasputin? Ras is the only mutha who's got a good word to say about Jack.' Then the freak says, 'Maybe we'll reconsider.' I put the phone down. This is the shit I have to deal with. Un-fucking-believable.
