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PolkOut.com is interactive! Well, sort of...you can talk at your monitor and pretend we're listening.
So the last comic was totally phoned in. Sorry. I was tired. And the thing at the bottom, you know, between the "--" and the "--" was a quote from that Beatles' song When I'm Sixty-Four, not me admitting that I've finally realized my entire life is a sham. Which it is, but I haven't realized it quite yet, so good times. There are two inaccuracies in this comic: the first, Kendrick's nowhere near that hardcore Christian. He wouldn't actually say most of those things, at least not sober...or in the company of others. The second, I don't quite give a sh!t what's Kosher for Passover--if it's chocolate, an animal, or both, I'll probably eat it. Which brings me to my next thought: it's kind of hard being a Jew at NYU. Addendum: it's kind of hard to be an apathetic Jew at NYU. You tell people you're Jewish--as a cultural identity sort of thing, not a religion--they immediately assume that cheeseburger you're holding is made with some sort of synthetic Jew-cheese, or that your closet is full of Christian babies you've stolen to use in your heathen sacrifices, or you know what holiday it is. My burgers, which I don't eat all that often but when I do, are most certainly made out of real cow cheese, or whatever sh!tty substitute the dining hall here tries to use. The children trapped in my closet are of all denominations, and none of them are for sacrifices, no I sell them to the Saudis as cheap labor. And I don't know what holiday it is; I didn't go to services last night, or the night before, or anytime in the last ten years. Stop asking me. I do like money though...so I guess there are some genetic traits you just can't escape. On a totally different note, Dora the Explorer pisses me off. It's way too easy--and I understand that sounds absurd coming from a man of my intellectual abilities (I can recite both the Alan Scott and Rot Lop Fan Green Lantern oaths from memory), but come on, I was watching way more complex crap when I was a kid. "I need to find the purple flower, can you tell me where the purple one is?" Duuuuuh, I don't know Dora....uuuuuuhhhhhh...that one over there? "No you f!cking sh!thead, I said purple!" Go Diego Go might even be worse, it's as easy but feels so much more pathetic. I remember shouting at my TV, "Arriba! Abajo! Arriba!", guiding that damn fool's hawk-plane through a cave. This doesn't teach kids anything, there's no critical thinking involved, the f!cker even tells me what to yell and when. And there are no consequences, so the dumb kids who fail don't feel any repercussions for their incompetence. Well, kids, enjoy your peeps and bunnies, and stay safe this Easter Sunday. When you practice moderation, everybody can have fun! =* The more you knoooooow. --End Transmission--
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