Curious Hair wrote:
good dolphin is walking down a street on Chicago's northwest side when he realizes he is hungry. He walks into a shop and as the bell rings above the door, the man at the counter says "good afternoon, sir, how may I help you?" and good dolphin says "good afternoon, I was wondering if you had any fresh Polish sausage today." The clerk smiles warmly and says "you must be Polish." good dolphin is irate. He says "this is precisely the kind of anti-Polish sentiment I've had it up to here with! If I asked about pasta, you wouldn't say I must be Italian. If I asked about bratwurst, you wouldn't say I must be German. And," with his dander really up, finger pointed in the guy's face, "if I asked about bagels, you wouldn't dare say I must be a Jew. But somehow you're comfortable inferring that I'm Polish. Why is that?" The shopkeeper simply sighed and said "sir, this is a hardware store."
Kielbasa, dipshit