My Existential Quandary

What does one do when one invests a quarter century in being a good entertainer only to find that entertainment has become The Enemy?


Look at Albert- he's all like, "who cares, poosie? vere are ze hookers et ze nose candy s'il vous plait??"


Here's the Bobby Lightfoot Camus Drinking Game: every time Merseault kills an arab, you drink a bottle of turpentine.