Cornhole all ready to abandon ship like a rat before the real babylonian money magick begins. Donate some of that schweet corn to the son of a poor widow cornhole. Living like a bum after my fall from glory and having to endure the company of these peasants who don't know the difference between an old master and grandmaster. I try my best educate them on eating healthy from the the finest dumpsters outside only the finest establishments but the peasants are too apathetic and lazy to shop around even when it's free. I tell you when I get my titles and castles back I will not be inviting these common peasants in case they put their feet up on my table. Only the wise and humble will sit at my table to be fed while the woke dogs and metaverse fools are put to work in the garden reaping the harvest for my deserving guests to eat