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Whassup, new dads! Hope you guys had a great Father’s Day, and if you aren’t a father (or male) then back to work with you! That salt isn’t going to mine itself!
I won’t lie: I’m feeling slightly vexed now that the DNA of nearly everyone I know has been propagated and is thus protected against the inevitable robot apocalypse (or robocalypse). See, back before you fellas learned about the stork and the birds and bees and other procreative euphemisms, I was working on revolutionary ways to not have children, including but not limited to wearing garlic-scented cologne, cursing loudly when in the presence of women, and comparing all pretty girls to “Halle Berry if she got fat. Y’know, like really fat.”
I figured that my highly revolutionary findings — girls don’t like you if you call them fat — would be the wave of the future (I was working for our future robot overlords at the time). However, it turns out that pretty much every guy I know got married before my results could be published, though, and that has negated all my hard work and coincidentally led me to wishing them especially well this day. Well, two days ago. It has also led to me fleeing from giant robots, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.
But enough about me, on to the ladies: I know that a couple of you are feeling left out because of your lack of boy parts/spawn, but rest easy. If any of us at Ominous Knife could draw girls who didn’t look like fat Halle Berry, we would make you a splendiferous comic detailing all the ways your adopted child could murder you for spare parts. Ah well, maybe next year…