Michael’s box of (count ‘em) 5000 business cards on a table in a midtown McDonald’s.
McD’s: Give us your poor, your downtrodden, your unemployed. Especially your unemployed. In these halls we will serve them coffee and filet-o-fish.
From the conversation just beyond the box:
“have you ever had sex with someone while they’re having a seizure?” “the doctor put cocaine flecks in the guy’s inhaler.” I couldn’t figure out if this was the same, “Egyptian doctor who’s not licensed to practice medicine here,” or the guy who’s “in an insane asylum now.” etc. etc. etc.
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