The East is Red, the Butt is Numb.
My sixteen-year-old self, shiny-eyed with True Believerism and seeing nothing ludicrous about addressing a total stranger as "comrade", would be at a loss to understand why this is funny.
My twenty-six-year-old self, terribly urbane and mature, guffawed audibly at the last picture. As, I suspect, will
dethorats.