Picture the Afore wrapped in a blanket on his ship's balcony, sobbing over the agonizing, fleeting nature of the cosmos. This deep "divine homesickness" he claims to have is actually just an incredibly selfish and expensive first-world problem. The Afore is profoundly devastated that he can’t buy a mountain range and keep it all to himself. It takes a spectacular breed of narcissism to take a luxury vacation and turn it into a personal tragedy. Will the cure for his painful, inconsolable grief involve stuffing his gullet with more trips to the buffet, or will he simply book a larger suite? I can't wait to find out.
Seriously, is there any greater tragedy than picturing the Afore as an eleven-year-old Boy Scout, staring at a California campfire and thinking, "Ah, yes, this reminds me of Wandrers Nachtlied II," instead of just eating his damn s'more?
