Thoughts On: Becoming a Spy

I want to work for the CIA; I want to be a spy: Agent 008adass.

I can have a pet bald eagle named Washington, or more likely Eisenhower, and train him in the sacred art of falconry so that he may aid me in aerial reconnaissance; I can carry a Colt .45 revolver and mysteriously never run out of ammunition; I can scratch my balls, or have that done by one of the many female fetales that I am undoubtedly destined to “acquaint myself with.”

It’s a plan. God bless America, the land of my unhindered imagination.