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still not ever gona get over playing thru thavius becks' discography and suddenly. hearing Cedric appear......

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Get your crumbs up. Get your nothing up.

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As another blackout has occurred in the Gaza Strip I would like to remind everyone that eSIMs are the only way for people in Gaza to communicate with themselves and the only way for them to communicate with the outside world. The only way for journalists and families in Gaza to communicate outside of the concentration camp is through eSIMs donations.

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random poll. i assembled these options from a wikipedia list of languages with the most speakers

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stg if i have to look at myself in the mirror ONE . one more time

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deltarume spoiler's

not the ch 4 boss being the literal abstract embodiment of

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“I was shooting heroin and reading “The Fountainhead” in the front seat of my privately owned police cruiser when a call came in. I put a quarter in the radio to activate it. It was the chief. “Bad news, detective. We got a situation.” “What? Is the mayor trying to ban trans fats again?” “Worse. Somebody just stole four hundred and forty-seven million dollars’ worth of bitcoins.” The heroin needle practically fell out of my arm. “What kind of monster would do something like that? Bitcoins are the ultimate currency: virtual, anonymous, stateless. They represent true economic freedom, not subject to arbitrary manipulation by any government. Do we have any leads?” “Not yet. But mark my words: we’re going to figure out who did this and we’re going to take them down … provided someone pays us a fair market rate to do so.” “Easy, chief,” I said. “Any rate the market offers is, by definition, fair.” He laughed. “That’s why you’re the best I got, Lisowski. Now you get out there and find those bitcoins.” “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on it.” I put a quarter in the siren. Ten minutes later, I was on the scene. It was a normal office building, strangled on all sides by public sidewalks. I hopped over them and went inside. “Home Depot™ Presents the Police!®” I said, flashing my badge and my gun and a small picture of Ron Paul. “Nobody move unless you want to!” They didn’t. “Now, which one of you punks is going to pay me to investigate this crime?” No one spoke up. “Come on,” I said. “Don’t you all understand that the protection of private property is the foundation of all personal liberty?” It didn’t seem like they did. “Seriously, guys. Without a strong economic motivator, I’m just going to stand here and not solve this case. Cash is fine, but I prefer being paid in gold bullion or autographed Penn Jillette posters.” Nothing. These people were stonewalling me. It almost seemed like they didn’t care that a fortune in computer money invented to buy drugs was missing. I figured I could wait them out. I lit several cigarettes indoors. A pregnant lady coughed, and I told her that secondhand smoke is a myth. Just then, a man in glasses made a break for it. “Subway™ Eat Fresh and Freeze, Scumbag!®” I yelled. Too late. He was already out the front door. I went after him. “Stop right there!” I yelled as I ran. He was faster than me because I always try to avoid stepping on public sidewalks. Our country needs a private-sidewalk voucher system, but, thanks to the incestuous interplay between our corrupt federal government and the public-sidewalk lobby, it will never happen. I was losing him. “Listen, I’ll pay you to stop!” I yelled. “What would you consider an appropriate price point for stopping? I’ll offer you a thirteenth of an ounce of gold and a gently worn ‘Bob Barr ‘08’ extra-large long-sleeved men’s T-shirt!” He turned. In his hand was a revolver that the Constitution said he had every right to own. He fired at me and missed. I pulled my own gun, put a quarter in it, and fired back. The bullet lodged in a U.S.P.S. mailbox less than a foot from his head. I shot the mailbox again, on purpose. “All right, all right!” the man yelled, throwing down his weapon. “I give up, cop! I confess: I took the bitcoins.” “Why’d you do it?” I asked, as I slapped a pair of Oikos™ Greek Yogurt Presents Handcuffs® on the guy. “Because I was afraid.” “Afraid?” “Afraid of an economic future free from the pernicious meddling of central bankers,” he said. “I’m a central banker.” I wanted to coldcock the guy. Years ago, a central banker killed my partner. Instead, I shook my head. “Let this be a message to all your central-banker friends out on the street,” I said. “No matter how many bitcoins you steal, you’ll never take away the dream of an open society based on the principles of personal and economic freedom.” He nodded, because he knew I was right. Then he swiped his credit card to pay me for arresting him.”

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five minutes........ five..... delt of rune..............

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five minutes........ five..... delt of rune..............

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(chews 17 kraatom)

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DELTA RUNE THREE and FOURE comes out in eleven day's.

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As I near 200,000 followers here at fishingboatproceeds, I just wanted to say Cock is one of my favorite tastes. Not only that, but balls smell amazing. It makes me go a little crazy on it to be honest. Like, I cannot get it far enough down my throat to be satisfied. I’m only satisfied when I feel those intense, powerful, salty, hot pumps of cum down my throat. When I sit back on my heels, look up at you with cum all over my mouth and slobber running down my neck, hair all fucked up and wipe my mouth with the back of my arm and ask you if I did a good job and you cannot even speak because I’ve drained all of your energy out the tip of your dick….. That’s when I’m satisfied.

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<3

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eggs!!

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Escapism

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HUGS & KISSES, Herald Center, NY (1986)

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