Sooo…when the next Ice Age makes us it’s fur-bikini-wearing bitch, what do we get to do with the Algore?
Pull down his pants, paint his shriveled winkie blue, and introduce him to Antarctica?
Lock him in a very tiny room with a very hungry Tipper?
Cut him into tiny pieces, whip up eleventy million cassoulets, and feed the entire third world?
So many options…
