Marcel Winatschek

They Took Our Jobs

André came over with a crate of Beck’s Green Lemon, a bag of chips, and no plan to leave early. We ended up watching sixteen consecutive episodes of South Park in English, back to back, well into the morning.

We watched Paris Hilton insert a pineapple into herself, Mr. Slave then insert Paris Hilton into himself, Butters accidentally slaughter half his audience, the boys get tangled up with the Chinese mafia, Stan face pressure to fuck a llama for skipping the vote, Al Gore engineer mass drowning, Butters transition into a girl, Cartman convince himself he was dead, the entire country refuse to acknowledge a Family Guy Muhammad cartoon, Tom Cruise lock himself in a closet, South Park turn gay due to an influx of unemployed workers from the future, Cartman shit out a full jewelry collection, and Chef get impaled and torn apart for wanting to make sweet love to small children. Solid lineup.

My right arm hurt the whole night. Not for the reason you sick bastards are imagining—just five unbroken hours of holding a beer at the same angle. They took our jobs.