This and Karl Marx wearing an oversized knitted scarf and a North Face vest and Ugg boots prancing through a pile of leaves before hopping on a hayride and shouting, “Call me Spooky because the fall of capitalism is awfully close to Halloween and we have nothing to lose but our PSLs,” before chucking freshly picked apples at a JPMorgan C-suiter and then he starts a self-sustaining artisanal commune with his proletariat homies.
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Now is the autumn of our discontent, made slightly glorious by this son of Colt...