Playing at a Voting Booth Near You
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(For the Yiddish-impaired: Mensch means human, in a sort of Jedi way.) |
The Star Wars franchise actually became the Empire for awhile and it sucked.
Listen, the Dark Side gets a cut of the gross no matter what, but even they have to admit something sucks when business sucks.
Good guys who never give in, never sell out and have an actual working shit detector came in and saved the day again.
Sure, it’s only the movies, but what a story.
Want To Get Insanely Rich?

“We’re killing it,” crowed CEO Atticus Charon at a board meeting. “Why nobody thought of this before is beyond me— typical government ineptitude— they were actually trying to prevent crime, idiots. Competent private management now has U.S. prison populations quadrupling the global average with profits soaring!”
“Add a privatized Justice system and guaranteed convict inventory will have revenues through the roof!”
Summing up the rosy financial picture Charon added “I tell our shareholders that our M.O. is MMO— Means, Motive and Opportunity—with the emphasis on Opportunity!”
You Can Call This Politics
...but it’s really a spin-off of “The Apprentice” with a bigger, less competent cast.
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(There’s also this if you need lots of words with your cartoons.) |
Couldn’t Put It Down
Try as I would, I couldn’t. My vet had no luck at all— “This argle-bargles the hell out of me,” she sputtered. “Most tenacious doggerel I’ve ever seen.”

“I knew I should’ve studied English Lit instead of Feline sepsis,” she fretted, breaking another needle on its spine. “Pretty soon this gets into the general population and jiggery-pokery becomes the norm— oh, my God, I’m doing it, aren’t I!”
“Maybe we should burn it,” I blurted out, then immediately regretted it.
“Don’t go medieval on me, that’s just what they want,” she said not unkindly. Her hand rested a moment on my shoulder, I felt the human warmth beneath her latex.
Then she brightened. “I’ve got a litter of stray pups in the back— they’ll chew up anything!”
“But...”
She apprehended my concern. “It’s all right. They’ve got iron constitutions. They’ll crap it out and be yapping happily again in no time.”

“I knew I should’ve studied English Lit instead of Feline sepsis,” she fretted, breaking another needle on its spine. “Pretty soon this gets into the general population and jiggery-pokery becomes the norm— oh, my God, I’m doing it, aren’t I!”
“Maybe we should burn it,” I blurted out, then immediately regretted it.
“Don’t go medieval on me, that’s just what they want,” she said not unkindly. Her hand rested a moment on my shoulder, I felt the human warmth beneath her latex.
Then she brightened. “I’ve got a litter of stray pups in the back— they’ll chew up anything!”
“But...”
She apprehended my concern. “It’s all right. They’ve got iron constitutions. They’ll crap it out and be yapping happily again in no time.”
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