I guess you had your big golf party yesterday. Some guy named Bubba won. I guess that IBM chick was there in her pink jacket.
All sorts of people have been talking about whether or not you should have given the lady CEO of your sugar-daddy donor one of your green jackets. Some people called you archaic, others were on your side, saying it's your little ol' golf club and you can run it any way you choose.
In company with the first lady ever to qualify at Indianapolis ... gentlemen, start your engines!
And boy did it. The Indy cars screamed around the track. AJ went on to drink the milk for the fourth time. Janet didn't do so well.
Guess what, boys? No one turned gay. No one's dick fell off. It was just another great 500 miles on Memorial Day weekend.
Can you boys imagine the roar that would have erupted from the crowd had Rometty stepped onto the links in an ugly green jacket yesterday?
Perhaps you'd like to believe you've kept something intact, that things have stayed the same, that you've saved something. Let me suck the wind out of your sigh of relief, boys. Today, you've saved and protected nothing, but you did squander something rare: the chance to be heroes. In doing so, you've changed yourselves.
Today you wake up smaller in every possible way.
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