A bit of bad news: jack kelly, creator of note to self, is still fully in use of his digits, so his comics yet continue in this collection called "dollar menu baller," kicking off with a comic that has no relevance to anything at all because being a Yale graduate in fact rocks. Everybody everywhere is falling over themselves not only just to hire you, but to give you RIDICULOUS sums of money for important, world-changing work. And people don't just want you on their team, they want you LEADING their team (to victory, glory, and the acquisition of casual Fridays). I mean, you went to frickin' Yale, man! Yale! That's almost as good as Harvard. And besides, the Harvard guy they tried to hire passed on the job, anyway. But whatever, look, even though graduation may seem like a looming death specter (particularly since you literally will die after you graduate, as is the alarmingly common fate of every single Yale graduate since 1702) rest assured, life only gets better after you graduate. Trust me.
Oh, jack kelly, what are you trying to tell us? Either sign up for the al-Qaeda or sign up for the parade. Either way, just stay outta the deep south. Or the Republicans' eye sights and cross-hairs.
So the truth comes out, jack kelly--you're adopted and are therefore a second class family member in your father's eye, regardless of what your mother tells you. Not that I or anyone with a brain cares, but how did you find out you were adopted? Was it as dramatic and heartfelt as they make it on TV? Or did they wait till you were old enough to watch The Lion King on VHS? And then when you saw a sobbing Simba sidle up to a freshly corpsed Mufasa, did your dad turn to you you and say, "See that, adopted son? That's the kind of love I'll never have for you."? And then did he give you the back of his hand as he demanded you make him another sandwich, after which he mooshed it on your head and laughed in sync with the cackling hyenas on screen? And then to make it up to you did he then show you two tickets to The Lion King on Broadway and then say, "Sorry, adopted son, I was just joking around. But look what I got! Two tickets for us to go see The Lion King on Broadway! And by 'us' I mean 'me and my real son!' " at which point his biological son steps out smirking from behind the couch, and they leave you alone in the cold, empty living room as the tv screen flickers dead? And through the window did you spy your dad triumphantly carrying his proud and true son out to the fancy car you're not allowed in? Then did they speed off into the night while giving you a synchronized dual middle finger through the rearview mirror? And then did you find a small wad of cash on the counter with a note from your dad that says, "This money is for pizza, adopted son. It is a bunch of two dollar bills because you are like a bunch of two dollar bills: queer."? Was that how it happened? WHY ARE YOU CRYING, jack kelly? It's just a question! Geez!
Oh, jack jelly, how can anyone graduate from Yale and become a washed-up has-been in every aspect of his character, be it intellectual, artistic, or otherwise? That's simply absurd! I personally know drugged-up Yalies who are stoned out of their minds most of the day and they're still holding down successfully. I get that you want to fight stereotypes, and perhaps your boldness should be commended, but I would never commend you for anything short of shooting a terrorist leader in the eye. Did you shoot a terrorist leader in the eye? No. So stop looking to me for approval. And get yourself some self-respect. And a job.
Enough jack kelly, stop trying to impress me with your mindless namedropping. I mean, who does that?! Look, yes, it's widely documented how the young Mr. Spielberg cracked the spine off my copy of Lynda Barry, after I kindly offered yet again to share my book with him during our graphic novels seminar. Goodness knows the poor guy was on crippling financial aid, and thus probably couldn't afford the books himself! Regardless, even though the cover subsequently and permanently popped off the binding, and just because the kid made no reference at all to the decapitation he executed right in front of me and everyone else in the seminar while he busily pontificated on whatever he was busy pontificating on--none of that gives you the right to harbor a deep-seated, one-sided bloodfeud, least of all because he, like so many of your classmates in that graphic novels seminar, didn't actually care about comics as a medium, so much as a fun and easy A. So carry on your soul-debilitating grudge if you wish, jack kelly, but I will play no part in it! Yes, it would be a fraction of a twitch of a blink of his eye to acknowledge his crime, let alone replace the book, but that's not the point. The point is that after reading his scathing Spring Fling review in The Yale Herald, you're just bitter and angry that he of all people holds anti-JEW beliefs. And that he got a namedrop in a RADWIMPS song. Ok, I'll admit that last one stings a little.
Reuxben
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