Doomed, I tell you.
Doomed.
I mean doomed. Really doomed. Hosed. Reamed. Damned.
To hell.
The good news? It's not our my fault. We I warned you. We I did.
It's the other guy's fault. That guy. Over there. That makes me feel a little better.
Okay, not really.
Because it doesn't make us any less doomed.
Well, at least it's not my fault we're doomed. But it could be your fault. Because I told you we'd be doomed but you wouldn't listen. You laughed at me. You called me a "doommeister." A "doom-a-looma-ding-dong." A "sonic doom."
You knew better.
Right. You knew better, you sad, pathetic wretch.
I was right.
You were wrong.
So there.
Told ya' so.
We're doomed.
I was right! All along! I said we were doomed! Ha! Suckers!
We are sooooooo, soooooooo doomed.