How many fucking times can Bill Clinton come back to Montreal to tell us about the "Power Within" ?
Though I respect Bill as an orator, the white Al Sharpton or the White Jesse Jackson, if you will, I am still mentally stuck somewhere in there between cigar as a sex toy and the semantics of "sexual intercourse" and "what is 'is'?".
If I received tickets for free from somebody for that thing, I would first:
a) punch them out
b) urinate on them
c) stick the tickets underneath the lapel pin of the kind of old-school loser who would buy them in the first place.
Give me an effen break! What is it about Montrealers or Quebecis for that matter that they are so smitten with that guy?
'nuff said.