The word fainéant reminds me, where are the tax returns?

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15. Come on, don't try to pretend

we don't all smoke weed and play hacky-sack naked, while listening to Che Guevara read aloud passages from the Quran. It is still like the 1960s, except now we hug Muslims as well as blacks, on the way to cashing our fat welfare checks that were personally handed out by our Kenyan pal, Barack. Don't you remember, I insisted we get crazy manicures with our welfare money, before we smoked crack. But you wanted to go hugging trees instead. So we compromised and went to the gay orgy and then got abortions. Who has time to work?!