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You Are Duck

Exotic and unusual, you are a bit of a rare bird – literally. You’re known for being soft and succulent, though at times you can be a bit greasy.

What Kind of Meat Are You?

Gross.

List of ingested items that do not make me sick: vegetables, coffee, booze, Jell-o. My stomach loves me, my intestines are pissed off. Duck is a no-no.

In other news, someone out there is elated that I’m ill because it gives him the opportunity to rail against The Left.

To wit:

The defining characteristic of the people on your side is just so hilarious, that tremendous contrast between your grand plans to rearrange the whole society and your total inability to successfully manage even your own lives, making you helplessly drift from one personal crisis to another.

And I don’t even feel bad about laughing at this. Next to what you guys did during the twentieth century, killing about a hundred million people and condemning billions of others to live under a tyranny of poverty and misery that we can’t even imagine today, nothing that I could ever do would amount to much more than a bite of a flea.

Do note, dear sir, that I didn’t ask for a handout, I asked for an IV bag to rid myself of the bother so I can, you know, work. Isn’t that better than asking for free healthcare and food stamps? I personally took the Republican message to heart. I didn’t just get myself one job to pay the bills, man, I got two, and I’m patiently waiting these nine months to receive health care benefits for myself and my family while I work 14-16 hour days. I’m a Republican wet dream.

Marketable degree? Got it. Bootstraps? Got ‘em too. Favorable economy? That’s on you and yours, man, along with the black heart it takes to laugh at people with health problems. Compassion? I’ll give you a bit of mine. It appears you need it, dollface.