Ladies, gentlemen ... (clinks diamond-bedazzled champagne glass full of Miller High Life) ... if I could please have your attention, esteemed yuppie plutocrats. I see you all found your robes at the door, very well, very well.
Another capital year has further consolidated our unholy power, casting the suffocating chill of our magnificent shadow upon enemies and supplicants alike, the filthy masses cowering in fearful reverence of our numbers, our numbers, our numbers that go up.
(The robed congregation chants, "OUR NUMBERS, OUR NUMBERS, OUR NUMBERS THAT GO UP!")
Excellent. As you know, downloads of the latest version of Black Road Sky, released only 2 short weeks ago, have already shattered expectations, the numbers reaching values that can only be described as positive integers. Surfing the bloody wave of this success, YouTube subscriptions have very nearly broken the single-digit barrier, sending a shockwave of doom across an already decimated landscape of smoldering flesh and bone. Next slide, please.
The whiteboard illuminates. We drink of its purity. And we pray.
("OUR NUMBERS, OUR NUMBERS, OUR NUMBERS THAT GO UP!")
This concludes today's meeting. Thank you for your continued conspiratorial racketeering as we look forward to another year in the terrible reign of Potato Clock Games.
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