It seems that billionaire Richard Branson’s posh place on Necker Island faced extensive damage from Hurricane Irma:

Sue Irma, I think. Wait, that’s what climate change litigation lawyers are doing now, suing those allegedly changing the climate. Gee, Professor dy/dx, you sure write some bullshit. You must have caught something from the young female pinko students you fuck.

The print version of “The Australian,” had a better headline: “Branson cops it in the necker.” (I looked it up in the library, having nothing better to do.) I was almost going to steal that for my title, but decided not to in literary honesty, because if my one reader found out what a low-life, no-talent cheat I am, well, I would be devastated. For at least two minutes. Then I would forget the whole thing, and get smashed on Smirnoff vodka, a real drink, not like the horse piss beer that some guys here always praise.

Why am I writing this shit whilst intoxicated? Wait, now I remember – Branson mentioned that he saw the best of humanity in the aftermath of the disaster. You know, people helping people, and fluff like that. But, he also said, “there are worrying reports of civil unrest spreading.” Then his son said on social media that people could help by boat aid, blah, blah. Then I pricked up my drunk elephantine ears (eyes?) “It’s important that you have security of some kind on the boat.” Oh, given the milk of human kindness, why might that be? Could it be:

Naturally enough, the jungle returned, mighty fuckin’ quickly. Actually, it has always been there.

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