A little birdie (OK, a huge fucking albatross, same thing only different) reminded me that it is a certain Vile Imperator’s birthday. I would advise against asking how old he is though, he’s out of ewoks to wipe his ass with and has been a bit grumpy as a result. If you have hair on your balls, go for it, otherwise….
So belly up to the bar and bring me a tankard of meade and the head of a small pig, there’s some debauchery to be had in his honor. Oh, and it’s Wednesday. Two fine reasons to get your drink on.
Happy birthday Misha.