Cardboard Goethe

In the modern era, Goethe had been reduced to working at Rite Aid, as he had lost all his money on a poker game, thinking that he was betting ‘The River’ in a Full Tilt Poker Game, televised on ESPN among sharp, hire per day chesty women in tight attire, but in fact was drunk at an outing actually occurring in his neighbors basement, wagering like Faust, but instead of life ever lasting, and satisfaction, he was betting his old Toyota. Needless to say, snazzy young mortgage brokers got involved, sporting smart sports jackets, from Men's Warehouse, as was fully televised at the time on MTV, but also written of by Reuters, amid the din of mesomorphic men with gigantic biceps roaming the forest of Papua New Guinea, in search of large timbers for sale, promising favorable terms for, cough, a small fee collateralized like dog waste, but in fact cauterized like the wounds of Jack Kerouac sitting on his Moms patio ruining his liver with endless droughts of mind numbing alcohol. He had CNN on in the background on Mute, listening to Mozart, in the euphonious perfect cords, mapped by Kepler and Laplace, and resorted to other means at the earliest convenience.