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PolkOut.com plays by its own set of rules! Fuck the law, fuck the law, fuck the law. Burn the fuse.
Fuck the donate button. And while we're at it, lets
condense the rest of this shit: This is a button, click it:
Click that blog button! Check that shit out! Eric is the coolest kid I know. Not cool like he's down for whatever or won't rat us out to the man, but objectively cool. Even if I hated him I'd have to acknowledge his coolness. The fucker struts as he walks down the street, wearing his Joe Camel sunglasses, denim jacket (I think it's denim... did I make that up? I might've made that up... masturbatory-fantasy-Eric wears a denim jacket, real-world-Eric might wear fleece or some bullshit like that), and a fucking plaid shirt UNDER A SWEATER. Man, there is so much I can learn from this dude... especially considering the fact I dress like a twelve year-old. Even as I type this, I'm rockin' a Speed Racer shirt and a dirtied pair of black jeans. No one would ever think I'm cool... but Eric... that dude smacks jukeboxes and moonwalks and deals drugs to gradeschoolers. Okay, that last part may be made up... but I figured he deserved the benefit of the doubt. Thursday night Garret and I didn't sleep, just spent the evening getting fucked up and philosophizing. At the crack of dawn we decided, since we were still awake, to walk to the water and catch the sunrise. Only, in our condition, walked to the Hudson. For those unfamiliar with Manhattan geography, it's bordered by two rivers: the Hudson and the East River. You can tell it was a fucking awesome night. Anyway, here's some fan art:
From the internet supercomic, Drugs Are Magic. Submit your own! --End Transmission-- PolkOut Sells Out The following are ads I've put up on the site to help pay for my advertising budget so I can make this site more popular. I did not choose these ads, and have decided not to filter their content. So if they lead you to pieces of puppet property shit, well, all the better.
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