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“you can’t just casually mention you’ve technically died once” i can actually. it’s funny
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There are limitations to how much horsepower you can safely run on the street. Lots of people will happily tell you this “fact” when you reveal that your car makes a little more power than a boring commuter car. Where are you going to use all that juice, they ask, when you are stuck in traffic?
It’s a valid question, if you are some kind of loser dipshit. The turbocharger isn’t for when I’m stuck in traffic. No, that shit is for merging. In order to understand the correct tactical application of nearly one freight locomotive’s worth of artificially supplemented airflow, you must first know the mind of the asshole trying (whether deliberately or not) to block my merge.
My opponent – and make no mistake, anyone blocking my merge even for a millisecond is in opposition to my goals and entire way of life – believes that my rusty shitbox is slow, noisy, and smoky. They think that if I get in front of them, the front end of their car will be showered with oil and fragments of piston rings. This is a reasonable belief, mostly because it’s true, but there is also a classism behind this that I find infuriating. How dare this person with a ratty looking car get ahead of me in traffic.
So you see, putting one-thousand-five-hundred brake horsepower of air from a one-hundred-eighty-dollar eBay turbocharger the size of a bull elephant into a wheezing smog-era Mopar engine is essential to reverse this attitude. The sight of my shrieking Plymouth reaching Mach Five in the road length of a gnat’s dick while sounding like a diesel locomotive on methamphetamine is a Teachable Moment about egalitarianism, and our collective obligation as human beings to achieve the maximum level of happiness for one another. Also, fuck that guy. Enjoy wiping aerosolized head gaskets off your windshield.
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Don't care + didn't ask + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you + I'm biting you
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d3c1d3d to do 4 th1ng f34t. my sn4ck kn1f3
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me fef and tz are gonna watch sinbad (legend of the seven seas) if anyones interested in that rn
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fun fact, the background/ref that i used was actually a selfie of a friend I got permission to use.
Not depicted is him wearing the same exact shirt in the same exact color, licking a knife while holding folded butterlfy knives in his other hand, and being in a face of clown makeup.
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d3c1d3d to do 4 th1ng f34t. my sn4ck kn1f3
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no clue where we are anymore check
{{ non-roleplay blogs do not reblog please! }}
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no clue where we are anymore check
{{ non-roleplay blogs do not reblog please! }}
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1 f33l l1k3 1m suppos3d to 83 h1gh w4tch1ng th1s m1ss3d th1s cont3nt
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som3t1m3s 1 forg3t 1 follow k4n's nsfw 8log so 1tll just 8l1nds1d3 m3, 3v3n though 1 4lr34dy h4v3 4 8l1nd s1d3.
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m4y83 1 should 8r1ng 84ck my old h41rstyl3 4ctu4lly vot3 on your h4ndh3ld d3v1c3s now
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much to th3 horror of oth3rs 1′m h3r3 onc3 4g41n, 8ut for how long only t1m3 w1ll t3ll
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ok4y 3v3ry8ody 3ls3 c4n go hom3 83ss84 m4d3 m3 l4ugh so h4rd 1 chok3d on my l4tt3
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oh my god th3 n1pcours3
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i'm not a girl or a boy. I'm a glitch the developers left in to help speedrunners
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the fuckin face in that last panel is on its own plane of emotion
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