Wednesday, June 22, 2011


note to self #106: ceo of what?

Despite my wishes otherwise, jack kelly, author of note to self, has five more ugly comiclings to debut, which he's calling "i killed tupac shakur." First up is a comic about jack kelly, a talentless Yale admit-mistake, wishing he could be more successful relatively right after graduation and then pouting about it, expecting my sympathy. Way to go, jack kelly, you weren't satisfied just getting into a university people literally torture their children to get into, but now you throw a hissy fit when you aren't then immediately thrust into the pinnacles of post-graduate success? How spoiled and entitled are you, jack kelly? What are you, white? I know how you grew up, jack kelly, it was beans, rice, and tortillas (with cheese, if you're lucky) every day before Yale, and guess what, you wetback hack, it's right back to the Taco Bell-sponsored projects with you. Don't look at me like that, jack kelly, you know you're not supposed to amount to a hill of beans.

note to self #107: racist joke

Aww snap, here comes jack kelly with the racist jokes. I'll be writing an angry letter to your editor, you know that, right? This is a high class website, you turd-monkey, and I won't stand for your reprehensible content. Last time I checked, jack kelly, you were neither black nor white, so I don't know where you get off making jokes about those fine, succulent, juicy races. You racist, uh...racist.

note to self #108: disappointment

Oh jack kelly, please stop acting like anything is owed to you after graduating Yale, I mean, as we just established in the previous comic commentary, you aren't white, so get off your high, white horse. Take your crippled place in society and like it, jack kelly. Love it. Stew with bitter anger and regret at everything you could have been, should have been, but never will be, but don't for a moment dare to complain about it to me or your entirely successful and luminously white college roommates, even in jest. How else can I spell it out for you, jack kelly? If I wanted to hear about an Ivy Leauguer who has had a rough past year, I'd listen to Conan. Are you Conan, jack kelly? No. So shut your mouth. And pass me a burrito.

note to self #109: the barber's unhappiness

Oh, jack kelly, stop masquerading behind old Matches song titles with your racist tirades. Be up front with your racism. Like this racist guy, HE has the guts to lay it all out there with his ever-spewing racism. Go big or go home, jack kelly, a home which I would assume is some kind of run down van on the US-Mexico border that houses you and your 17 brothers and sisters before your daily Kessel Run to a Home Depot parking lot. Unless of course you're on lookout duty for La Migra, in which case you're probably hiding outside your shabby cab, near a cactus, wearing a giant sombrero and a big, shiny mustache wondering how your unwed girlfriend is doing as she quietly heaves inside the van, popping out her fifth baby by an unconfirmed father. Racist.

note to self #110: cute couple

How dare you attack true love, you jealous hunk of coal, jack kelly! Who cares about the sordid circumstances that preceded their beautiful public union? They're happy now, so it doesn't even matter anymore! The past is the past, so long as we choose to turn a blind eye as we hurl in digust in the other direction. And don't even think about touching Roman Polanski next, you sicko. Besides, only Roman Polanski does the touching around these parts. And that guy from Beetlejuice. Wait, what was I talking about again? Never mind, I forget. Hey, let's watch Annie Hall again, jack kelly! I could go for a super depressing "comedy" right about now. To make it extra sad, let's rent it at Blockbuster. On VHS.


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