Incoming: Inside an Anaconda

I reckon Logan Roy smelled maybe a bit mustier than my dad. He probably smoked the casual cigar, drank whiskey. I want to put down your fish taco. Fratricide narratives, bad narratives. Screw ups and dipshit. You're getting your melancholy everywhere. A watch for Colin. Not like all his real friends from his men's groups and choirs. What's his face and get that fucker away from me? He lives on Wonder Bread and steak freaks. He hasn't had a shit in 20 years. Who are you? Why is your sex party so sad?