The truth, the awful truth, and nothing but the truth. ...

Please accept our most egregiously sincere apologies for the difficulties and inconveniences the secret monitoring of your phone records and email and GPS units and foreign travel and bank accounts and yes, even your snail mail has evidently caused.

But why? Are these readers hoping to find out if things today are really as bad as Orwell foretold? Do they want to know if it has a happy ending? Or are they already expecting the worst and simply want a roadmap for an orderly transition?

...

Not to deflate everyone's false sense of pride and outrage but no one gives a damn about who you are calling and emailing. Please, don't flatter yourself.

Like most of us, you probably spend at least seventeen hours per day wondering how many U.S. presidents were actually robots or lizard people.

If your idea of a "match" involves someone who enjoys suburbia, clichés and saying exactly the same damn thing everyone else says, you've found your Match.

It only takes a single bit Of connection. Tag, you're it! Sorry, buddy, now you're toast You never should have read this post.

The truth, the awful truth, and nothing but the truth. ...

The compelling thing about this comic is the perfect storm of elements he uses to build a powerhouse of relatable material.

The only people who can use the word "faggot" based on an incorrect, playground definition are children. Once you grow up and learn what the word really means, you have a moral obligation to change your behavior so that you don't use a word that perpetuates the dehumanization of people whom you claim to respect.

Am I naïve enough to believe the government hasn't being spying on us all this time? No, that's ridiculous. Am I still really mad that it's official? Yes. It's like when your significant other admits to cheating on you even though you already presumed it was the case.