Rorschach's Journal. October 12th, 1985.: Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are exteded gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "save us!" And I'll look down, and whisper "no." They had a choice, all of them. They couls habe followed in the footsteps of good men like my father, or president Truman. Decent men who believed in a day's work for a day's pay. Instread they folloed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late. Don't tell me they didn't have a choice. Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers. And all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say.
This is taken from the first page if the comic. I typed fast so sorry for any errors.
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