So May Day rolls around once again. I'm a little late to the party, what with having a real job and all for a few weeks, so Padre Mickey beat me to the punch. Notice how he goes all Commernist about the whole thing. Did you know he spent most of his childhood in a foreign country, alegedly as the son of "Christian missionaries"? A likely story, I'm sure you'll agree. He says he was born in the Good Old U.S. of A., but he's never actually shown me his birth certificate.
I'm sure you can put two and two together, gentle readers, and that adds up to COMMIE!
I, on the other hand, am an American through and through. I even became ridiculously fat just to prove it! As further proof, I will not expect you to join me in seven verses and choruses from The Internationale, but instead I offer that truly American way to celebrate labor, which is...
taking stuff from work.
Doughy Swings… and Misses
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