I always use the Ed Asner test for my personal beliefs. That is, if I accidentally agree with Ed Asner, I go back and check my math. -- S. Dallas, Esq.
Lately, it seems that Jerk City has taken on a darker aspect. Oh, there's still plenty
of
boners, pricks, dongs, and
dicks,
but more often, there seems to be a decidedly homicidal undercurrent swelling in
the
daily Net comic.
Deuce confesses to a
random
kidnapping. Deuce
fantasizes
about raping Pants's abandoned corpse. Pants agonizes over his
limited
cadaver-storage capacity. These are but three examples of this trend, bizarre even
by the
standards of these self-described total
losers
Jesus.
Why the sudden bout of necrophilia for our otherwise puerile, and occasionally geeky, band of
ayleens
/ beatniks / Tiki dolls / jellyfish-things? Possibly the site redesign, complete with a
search function and handy indexes by date and title, has driven the authors to dark
musings of murder most foul.
Or, perhaps, in these troubled times of international terror, the endless torrent of
cock-sucking jokes seems somehow irrelevant. Older Jerk City postings harken
back to a
more carefree time in America -- a time of security, of family and faith, and of
gallons
upon spurting gallons of HGRURGHHUUGRG+++
