Pocket Jacks Comics

I’ve been red pilled, black pilled, white pilled, clear pilled. All the pills. I don’t even know which one this is, but it’s one of the strongest ones I’ve had in a long long time. The desperation in his voice. You can see the sight of his kids in his eyes when he says he’s supposed to be home with them. You can see the math he’s doing in his head as he calculates how much money he has left, and how much he needs for his mortgage, and when it’s due. What the hell is the American dream anymore? Is this what it’s about? Is there anyone who would say this guy isn’t working his ass off? For what? So that 25% of his income can go to a government that wastes it on a bunch of shit he didn’t vote for? Subsidizing the food he stocks grocery stores with for people who don’t work a 1,000th of how hard he works to buy groceries with EBT cards that he pays for, which then drives up the cost of groceries for him and his family that he pays for out of his paycheck because he’s doing it the right way. This entire system is shit. It’s shit. There is no nicer way to put it. It is dog. shit. This guy should be working a 9-5 at a job that gives him dignity so that he can be at home with his kids at a decent time. Instead he’s some jerk off’s content. His stressed out, end of his rope reaction is some asshole’s income. This is bleak stuff. Absolutely bleak.