Rise up, all ye New Year’s Eve revelers! Now is the time to take up arms against your oppressor. “Um, what oppressor?” you say? Why, THA MAN, of course. Every December 31st, THA MAN totally sticks it to you, right in your frozen keister. Every year, you brave the bitter cold and dirty snow to go to some offensively-overpriced New Year’s Eve party peddling watered-down cocktails, lousy food, lame music and vapid partygoers. Why pay a premium to go to some holier-than-thou club that charges you $200 for a bottle of freakin’ vodka, then corrals you into a crowded room packed to the gills with a thousand Snookies and Situations?
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