I’m glad the portrait of Ben Franklin stayed the same on the new $100
bill. There’s something about his slight, tight frown, the paternal hint
of disappointment in his eyes and those pursed, sealed lips that seem
to say, “I don’t approve of what you’re doing, but I can’t stop you from
rolling this banknote into a straw and ripping a fat rail of white
lightning in the Buffalo Wild Wings handicapped bathroom stall, you god damn beautiful disaster.”
