Well, jack kelly, creator of note to self, requests the displeasure of your company for "owl jowl jewelry," this week's collection of 5 cent comics, starting with a comic about jack kelly's feeble attempts at commiseration. Honestly, I've seen Nexus-6's with more empathy than jack kelly. The last time I saw someone so cold and robotic crash and burn while attempting to emulate human behavior, I was watching Olivia Munn butcher a Daily Show segment.
This comic is particularly offensive, jack kelly. What right do you have to criticize Yale's interminable truffle-hunting-pig-esque money-scrounging, particularly from alumni who are buried in debt? Don't you think they wouldn't charge students tuition if they could afford it? Yes, they have literally billions of dollars, and they have both millionaires and billionaires in alumni classes as young as our year.
And even though you were on financial aid and could barely even exist on the same campus as kids who literally blew more money on one weekend of drinking than you would ever see in a year of disposable income; kids who never had to spend endless hours upon hours sprinting between the libraries and physical and online book stores to hunt down the rattiest used books available before heading out to a seminar where their classmates all had pristine copies of the books sitting neatly before them; kids who have no concept of the difference between want and need and will only ever continue to distance themselves from what it means to yearn so painfully for a given end but have no means of ever obtaining it--even though you had to exist among those kids, while your beloved university callously charged you money you didn't, don't, and won't have for a good long while, you have no right to complain when they come to you and ask for donations.
They gave you the four best years of your life, remember, you ungrateful, selfish scumbag? How do you sleep at night, jack kelly? No, seriously, how do you do it? You look really uncomfortable on that dirty, bare, spring-punctured mattress. You know, the one crusting over with the decayed exoskeletons of incessant insects on the floor over there? Yeah, that's the one.
Way to represent, jack kelly. I can only assume this is more of your thinly-veiled racial self-hatred. How about you take some Chicano studies before you start mouthing off about a trait you were born into and that is just as incidental as your hair color or cuticle lengths, or whether your fingertips have loops or whorls, traits which obviously must define every ounce of your being by the very nature of their existence. What I'm trying to say, jack kelly, is that if you steal my poncho and comically large sombrero again, I'ma cut joo good, homes, eh?
Oh, jack kelly, you insensitive jerk, how dare you try to attempt anything but your crass brand of uninformed, emotionally unavailable "comedy"? Do you think using loaded language and painfully raw artwork is in any way conducive to greater understanding of vastly grander conceptual assertions? Who do you think you are, Scott McCloud?
Oh, jack kelly, you jealous, pitiful little slug. How many times I gotta tell ya? You were an admit mistake. You didn't get into Harvard because they already had their smart, low-income Mexican guy picked out, and Yale just happened to be short in that column, so you were really only ever meant for something pitifully sad and depressing, like a two year community college. Or Cornell. But whatever. Just stop whining about rich people and how bad you've got it, it just makes you look as disgustingly common and small as you in fact are. But then again, I guess honesty is the best policy. In which case, I must confess in all honesty, you are a talentless cancer on society, which is ironic because nobody liked you, so you weren't picked to be in any secret society at Yale. And not even one of the lame, knock-off societies like Drunk Senior Girls. Or Wolf's Head.
Reuxben
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