It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is still an asshat.

Can you even read this? If so, I'm sorry. First we start with some much-needed derision about the dog's activities. He's a fawking dog, Phil. What's he supposed to do with no opposable thumbs, tune your goddamned Harley? 

It's once the weather turns that we see the reason for Phil's derision - projection over his own laziness. Mister Descended-From-Apes-Yet-Can't-Use-The-Simplest-Of-Tools allows Marm to live in third-world squalor while Phil stays dry and warm. 

And Phil calls Marm lazy. Hey, at least Marm's inventive enough to use an umbrella, asshole.

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