Indulging in Harsh Power-electronics Interludes

I like tea now, Dad. You always teased me about the tea I didn't drink. My negative attitude towards teabags was, how did you say? "Quaint." No father should call his only son "quaint." It's a fucking disaster to hear that. Well, I do drink tea, but I don't use teabags. I use this metal implement I bought at a garage sale in a cul-de-sac.

The next time I see you, you will note that I smell like the sort of thing that comes out of an ass hole. This time, I'm keeping my secret.