I feel bad now for making fun of Kourtney Kardashian, seeing as it is her 35th birthday. That’s a special time in a Kardashian girl’s life when she takes her bastard children and whatever mope she’s letting knock her up and she heads to Mexico to learn of her true birthright, in all it’s hideous demonic glory. As it is written, atop Popocatepetl, Kris Jenner will reveal to each 35-year old daughter the face of her real father on a playing card. She will then shuffle that card around in a three card Monte slight of hand with the faces of two random NFL players she screwed in the 80’s while her husband was at Costco buying her tampons and bagel dogs. If the daughter can pick out her real father’s face, she will win and go on to be rich and miserable and drunk like her mother. If she fails, the volcano will erupt with deadly rivers of magma, killing millions of Mexicans. After the briefest of reflective pauses, mom will remind her daughter that outside of the kitchen staff at Casa Vega, they don’t give a shit about Mexicans. Then they will commence with the ritualistic cackling.
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