The humor of third world pictures is that the fly-beset distended belly is attached to a skeletal, sunken face, naturally juxtaposing enormous white teeth with the black mouth they jut from, cheeks stretched impossibly taut by the strain of simply holding a jaw up. That, and Jesus Fucking Christ, He's ALIVE!

See, humor is found is contrasting the absurd (that person is both starving and he looks like a donkey!) And that's why, Tina, they don't publish the pictures of the dead kids. Because, when a famine hits Ethiopia, most people are dead and rotted away and don't look like anything except maybe rich versions of their previous selves (haha...because now they're white) , so they're not humorous, they're passé. Therefore, aborted fetuses are less funny because they're always dead, but the money I would pay to have a picture of you chanting with a large posterboard sign is funny. Funny huge.

Grumble...grumble...I'm here anyway, yeah? Good for me, and you, I've been drawn out. The best part is, far flung from the Shitizen homeworld though I seem, when I get home in a month and I see you fuckers, and we hang out every night and kiss and stuff and then we'll become like those blogger couples who fight over who gets to tell their funny story on the blog when it happens to both of them, except there will be too many of us and we won't feel like a blog couple, we'll feel like blog mormons...and...forget it, we're wandering here. The answer is Me, I get to tell the story, or, like the mormons, I'll probably blog molest your children.

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