Since its Friday, we decided to go ahead and shoot you in the eyes since you have all weekend to recover, so here’s Gary Shirley, baby daddy to Amber Portwood and basically the perfect specimen of masculine perfection. Because what better use for sudden wealth than low-rise jeans, graphic tees and a Dodge Avenger? It’s not like this generation would be better off with higher education or a stable means of shelter for their constant parade of bastards. When my dad was putting food on the table and a roof over our heads, I mostly just wished he’d dress cooler and impregnate a naked pig from the county fair. Instead we had health insurance which is the gay cousin to being Mormon.
DAD: So, have you thought about college?
GARY: Eh, I’m just gonna knock up another girl and hope for that MTV money.
DAD: I’m talking about a plan for your future.
GARY: Mommm, Dad doesn’t understand my feelings!
MOM: Now, dear, Gary’s just trying to communicate with you.
DAD: *pulls out gun, shoots Gary in the chest* I WORKED IN A FACTORY.
AMERICA: *claps, cheers, rises above the ashes of adversity on golden wings of an eagle*