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I was mumble-singing “You and I” by Ingrid Michaelson today, and my half-conscious brain fumbled the lyrics. I changed “you and I” to “we are bound” (I also had James Taylor’s “Shed a Little Light” on my brain).
With that lyrical substitution, I think I changed the song into some sort of Eldritch invocation.
I’ll keep you updated in the event I make contact with an Elder God.
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Making me walk past a group of (creepily) smiling people that call me “brother” and try to hand me pamphlets does not endear your cause to me. Quite the opposite.
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Alt universe where Hank Williams, Jr. is in a frat and his guitar is named Brocephus.
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Had sore muscles because old. Applied topical treatment. Washed hands. Used restroom. Realized had not washed hands thoroughly enough. Biofreeze dick.
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What’s the betting pool looking like for “Sun Conspiracy Theories?” I want to put $10 on “The Government killed them to try and crush our Libertarian Spirit.”
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He may have been your father, boy, but he wasn’t your daddy.
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If Russell Crowe won’t record a cover of “The Night I Punched Russell Crowe”, then using an AI to fake it would be morally correct.
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