“O thy wretched epoch, eclipsed into shroud the just and decent king of all. Curse be to the furies that conspired to end thou reign! Move from this perch and easel I shall not until the glory and righteousness be portrayed to its fullness – Bah! Is impossible! My two pence be paid to the ferryman much sooner, natheless my brush shall not be stilled until a moment before!” is the kind of thing we like to imagine this Jon McNaughton asshat saying to himself in his dimly lit garage as he continues to churn out this stupid bullshit, of which the above is one of the least dumb.