What’s wrong with him is not what I’m hopeful for. What I’m hopeful for is what Douglas Adams once suggested happened to the second-worst poet in the universe:
his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save humanity, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.
Personally, I hope it’s a carnivorous brain worm.
What’s wrong with him is not what I’m hopeful for. What I’m hopeful for is what Douglas Adams once suggested happened to the second-worst poet in the universe:
that starved a long time ago.