If you’re looking for Waldo, good luck. He got Lasik and a new hat and sweater. But do look for the clown with a pitchfork. He shouldn’t be there.
Get you a shirt of that one clown carrying a giant hot dog. Whaaat?!
This week only, at the sketchy fairgrounds!
It gets worse, try the Stab At It Facebook Page, and visit realms undiscovered.
Cyberpunk adventures for when D&D was just too silly.
Get on over to the Stab At It Shirt and Shirt Emporium and Apothecary for unique styles that are too witty to handle. Wear them then wash them, then repeat until forever.
By glancing at this you are accepting the Stab At It terms of service.
A) Readers of Stab At It abandon any reasonable expectation of privacy, including but not limited to, the entire scope of empirical, perceptual, and philosophical concepts of self-determination and free will.
2) What are you really giving up?
– Sticky spare change in the console-type personal data.
– That nest egg of statistics you’ve got squirreled away.
– Maybe a dash of social security number for flavor.
416P*) Find it within your heart to give yourself away. By reading these comic strips, you forgo your right complain about whose body was sold to what organ farm by whom. Anyway, all that categorization must be getting to you by now. I mean, think about it, you’ve been tagged and numbered and slid into file folders your whole life. You’ve had that name you care so much about all of a sudden, dragged through the mud and now you want to preserve this thing? This hardly unique identifier distinguishes you from the rest society how exactly? No, even without your information, your cards and your papers, you will always be you. You will be you with a -266 credit score, but you will be you. We can’t take that, but not because we don’t want to, because really, we want that bad. We want more than your buying and shitting and food shoveling habits, we want your essence, your aether, your spark. Until then, find it within your heart, within your warm soul, to give us the stupid little numbers and dates and birth certificates that are little more than bullet points in the grand novels of your life.
In Memoriam) Literally, the content of all your emails are the property of Google and Microsoft and so on. They read that shit all day. I mean holy shit.
Caveat III-14) That’s a nice one password that you use for every site you got there, be a shame if something happened to it.
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