Anthony is a blow card

"Well."

"Well what?"

"I don't understand why these New Yorkers keep fuckin' coming. It is issue after issue after issue. I can't read all of these. Thirty thousand word articles about the cigarette hierarchy in China. Where the ampersand first came about. You understand what I'm talking about?"

"You signed the Motha-fuckin' blow card. Why pay for a subscription?"

"I don't know?"

"What?"

"I don't know? I have to see it in my box. I actually read it. What I'm trying to articulate is how I don't like how it just keeps coming before I can finish another one, you know?"

"Well let it go at your pace, idiot? Let them mount up. Fuck I don't know."

"I'm not looking to get behind. I'm not looking to get many issues behind, you see?"

"I don't see anything. I'm actually blind to this fucking logic, or this entire conversation. Matter of fact I want my carbon dioxide back."

"It is that they intimidate me when they quickly send another issue. They just strong arm me with another pile of words after I have had a chance to digest the current issue."

"Strong arm? I mean your serious with this?"

"I need to read each issue, you understand that right?"

"Every article?"

"Not everyone. I just want to peruse it at my pace and choose the ones that work for me, without the idea that another more relevant one wasn't lurking just outside my bathroom. What I'm trying to say is they have done something right. They have gotten me where they want me; they have succeeded in whatever they were trying to succeed at with me, and you have to sit here and witness this victim hood because your in a similar position."

"You got me there."