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  1. cjcampbell commented on FoxTrot Classics 5 days ago

    Eileen already has Jason thinking along those lines. He is doomed.

  2. cjcampbell commented on Luann 6 days ago

    I can relate. We can never live up to the heroism of our ancestors.

  3. cjcampbell commented on FoxTrot 6 days ago

    The Red Priestess does not have red hair. And, um, did Jason just call his mother a prostitute?

  4. cjcampbell commented on FoxTrot Classics 8 days ago

    Funny. Seven million subscribers and these two manage to find each other by accident.

  5. cjcampbell commented on Luann 18 days ago

    This will be the guy who marries Luann. Count on it.

  6. cjcampbell commented on Non Sequitur 22 days ago

    This is highly inappropriate after last night’s events in Dallas. Your anti-Trump smear campaign isn’t funny any more.

  7. cjcampbell commented on Non Sequitur about 1 month ago

    So dishonest. North Carolina is demanding nothing of the kind.

  8. cjcampbell commented on FoxTrot about 1 month ago

    Hoping my wife doesn’t see this…

  9. cjcampbell commented on Non Sequitur 3 months ago

    “Longed for a time when only white men had rights.” Straw man argument. If you really think that any of the candidates long for such a time or that such a time ever even existed in the United States, back it up with some facts.

    The truth is, all of the candidates are about taking rights away. All of them support some sort of limits on the First Amendment. Some want to enslave you more by seizing more of your hard-earned earnings and giving them to people who they think deserve them more than you do. Others want to limit your freedom to travel.

    No candidate supports basic freedoms.

  10. cjcampbell commented on FoxTrot 3 months ago

    It is from Jonathan Swift, describing all the refuse and offal (including dead cats and dogs) that washed down the streets of London during rainstorms. Pretty gross, actually:

    Now in contiguous Drops the Flood comes down,
    Threat’ning with Deluge this devoted Town.

    Now from all Parts the swelling Kennels flow,
    And bear their Trophies with them as they go:
    Filth of all Hues and Odours seem to tell
    What Street they sail’d from, by their Sight and Smell.
    They, as each Torrent drives, with rapid Force,
    From Smithfield or St. Pulchre’s shape their Course,
    And in huge Confluent join’d at Snow-Hill Ridge,
    Fall from the Conduit, prone to Holbourn-Bridge.
    Sweeping from Butchers Stalls, Dung, Guts, and Blood,
    Drown’d Puppies, stinking Sprats, all drench’d in Mud,
    Dead Cats and Turnip-Tops come tumbling down the Flood.