Which Reminds Me

I wonder why these horribly wicked snooty rich people of San Francisco area  imagine themselves in place to confiscate my personal identity. I have visited the tourist attractions there but have no other connection to that horrible and loathsome Bay Area. My aunt sold her house to that girl who lived next door to them. However, she is not related to me and I do not want to be hearing from her later, never mind about some crazy and misinformed things that my aunt might have said in her grief-stricken way about how my cousin David might have married the girl next door if his life had not taken a crooked turn. Not meaning to be rude, but we cannot now bring David back from the dead to explain to us that, had he taken the straight road, that actually he might have dumped that hideous fag and pathetically stupid production department drudge in favor of someone more suited to his brilliant self. She should be glad that at least she has a job and a roof over her head, but she is not going to get anything else from us. As we all know, his life took a somewhat crooked turn and that has made all the difference. A fork in road is just a distant memory of past events, not really a promise of future riches for you.