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elise the great
May 1, 2012

You do not have to be good. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Why on earth, in this scenario, would you assume that air friction is what’s bringing the satellites down

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Solice Kirsk
Jun 1, 2004

.
Sagebrush needs a science friction editor.

Splicer
Oct 16, 2006

from hell's heart I cast at thee
🧙🐀🧹🌙🪄🐸

Sagebrush posted:

yeah, because it's internally inconsistent.

i'm fine with barack obama becoming the size of an oak tree; nothing in the story says he can't. but satellites only de-orbit because of air friction and it says right there that that isn't happening any more.

could have used a science editor
If two satellites going opposite directions were to crash into each other they would fall down.

Of if they were to crash into a very tall object such as for example President Barack Obama

Doc Hawkins
Jun 15, 2010

Dashing? But I'm not even moving!


i am apparently the only person who knows nothing about The Elf Dick Saga, how can i fix that

Zil
Jun 4, 2011

Satanically Summoned Citrus


Doc Hawkins posted:

i am apparently the only person who knows nothing about The Elf Dick Saga, how can i fix that

It's quite the adventure
:nws:
https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3785918

For the exact post https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3785918&pagenumber=1&perpage=40#post463511251
:nws:

Zil has a new favorite as of 23:44 on Jul 1, 2020

Lobok
Jul 13, 2006

Say Watt?

Splicer posted:

If two satellites going opposite directions were to crash into each other they would fall down.

For some reason this is hard to picture. Two objects crashing into each other in mid-air and falling down? Sure, of course. Same thing happening in orbit seems cartoony.

purple death ray
Jul 28, 2007

me omw 2 steal ur girl

Lobok posted:

For some reason this is hard to picture. Two objects crashing into each other in mid-air and falling down? Sure, of course. Same thing happening in orbit seems cartoony.

aint like there are stop lights up there

christmas boots
Oct 15, 2012

To these sing-alongs 🎤of siren 🧜🏻‍♀️songs
To oohs😮 to ahhs😱 to 👏big👏applause👏
With all of my 😡anger I scream🤬 and shout📢
🇺🇸America🦅, I love you 🥰but you're freaking 💦me 😳out
Biscuit Hider
Satellites go up so it stands to reason that they must come down

3D Megadoodoo
Nov 25, 2010

What's this about elf dicks?

Phy
Jun 27, 2008



Fun Shoe

christmas boots posted:

Satellites go up so it stands to reason that they must come down

"That's not my department," says Elfdick Von Braun

Dameius
Apr 3, 2006
Satellites go up, satellites go down. You can't explain that.

Captain Hygiene
Sep 17, 2007

You mess with the crabbo...



I blame Elon Musk

Doc Hawkins
Jun 15, 2010

Dashing? But I'm not even moving!


ohhhhhh it was the gwib and puntil post. got it. thank you everyone.

Syd Midnight
Sep 23, 2005

Splicer posted:

The elf dicks are leaching into your life retroactively. Soon you'll start remembering saturday mornings eating hotdog spaghetti and watching cartoons about a pepperoni loving octopus.

this talk of elf dicks and hotdogs and octopus reminds me, a few months back I was going through my ebook library looking at some old threads/sagas/articles that I'd converted to ebook format for easier reading when I came upon this



A collection of reviews of Wraeththu. The name vaguely rang a bell, some kinda bad RPG? But why the hell was there a picture of bifurcated hotdog octopi on the cover? So I started reading it, and then I remembered, and then I regretted doing both those things.

Yngwie Mangosteen
Aug 23, 2007

Sagebrush posted:

yeah, because it's internally inconsistent.

i'm fine with barack obama becoming the size of an oak tree; nothing in the story says he can't. but satellites only de-orbit because of air friction and it says right there that that isn't happening any more.

could have used a science editor

The increased air friction that has a side effect of crashing the satellites is caused by the atmosphere moving up to the moon.

RFC2324
Jun 7, 2012

http 418

Pope Hilarius II posted:

Ah, I used to think it was a reference to GE Cafe

For the minority who might not know, GE Cafe was a morbidly obese goon who masturbated anally in the shower and began reporting concerns that at one point a bit of his rear end literally fell out after a particularly vigorous anal stimulation session

I still wanna know wtf that actually was

I know I'll regret it if I ever find out, but I want to know

elise the great
May 1, 2012

You do not have to be good. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
It was a combination of rectal mucus, abraded rectal skin, and looks like a silicone-based lubricant used for water resistance.

We don’t use silicone lube in the GI lab but we get similar rear end casts on the regular during colonoscopies.

RFC2324
Jun 7, 2012

http 418

makes sense, and not nearly as bad as the imagination makes you want to believe

Ghost Leviathan
Mar 2, 2017

Exploration is ill-advised.
Besides, we already have Toys For rear end Bum

Mr. Sunshine
May 15, 2008

This is a scrunt that has been in space too long and become a Lunt (Long Scrunt)

Fun Shoe

Son of Thunderbeast posted:

So I greased up Mr Sunshine and

Thank you.

Mr. Sunshine
May 15, 2008

This is a scrunt that has been in space too long and become a Lunt (Long Scrunt)

Fun Shoe
HP Lovecraft's somewhat less racist cat, Elfdickman.

CommunityEdition
May 1, 2009

Captain Hygiene posted:

I blame Elon Musk

Elven Musk

Pirate Radar
Apr 18, 2008

You're not my Ruthie!
You're not my Debbie!
You're not my Sherry!
Elf Dick Weirdo, number one super girl
Elf Dick Weirdo, ER stories make you hurl

barbecue at the folks
Jul 20, 2007


Phy posted:

"That's not my department," says Elfdick Von Braun

:vince:

e: I copied this to paste it to the Funny Forum Quotes thread, alas,

EasilyConfused
Nov 21, 2009


one strong toad

barbecue at the folks posted:

:vince:

e: I copied this to paste it to the Funny Forum Quotes thread, alas,

Same

Rust Martialis
May 8, 2007

At night, Bavovnyatko quietly comes to the occupiers’ bases, depots, airfields, oil refineries and other places full of flammable items and starts playing with fire there

Pirate Radar posted:

Elf Dick Weirdo, number one super girl
Elf Dick Weirdo, ER stories make you hurl

Its wang-tastic!

ChubbyChecker
Mar 25, 2018

Syd Midnight posted:

this talk of elf dicks and hotdogs and octopus reminds me, a few months back I was going through my ebook library looking at some old threads/sagas/articles that I'd converted to ebook format for easier reading when I came upon this



A collection of reviews of Wraeththu. The name vaguely rang a bell, some kinda bad RPG? But why the hell was there a picture of bifurcated hotdog octopi on the cover? So I started reading it, and then I remembered, and then I regretted doing both those things.

it was a series of books about vegetable vampire elf dicks iirc

Zulily Zoetrope
Jun 1, 2011

Muldoon

Grammarchist posted:

A while back someone made a spiritual sequel to that one post from 2008 about Obama growing to the size of a mountain and sending all the Muslims to a new Eden on the Moon.

Most of it was about living on a dead Earth while the Boomers praised the economy, culminating with a mysterious figure descending from the moon. The Boomers set upon the figure, who shatters into pieces that fall to the ground. Millennials plant the pieces hoping to see flowers bloom again.

Does that ring any bells?

I couldn't find it either, but either that or a similar post involved Donald Trump introducing and worshipping the :orb: which eventually turned him into a giant pulsating mass of flesh that was slowly engulfing America, and the boomers were willingly being subsumed by the Trump blob as they believed paradise was on the inside of it.

Collateral Damage
Jun 13, 2009

Zulily Zoetrope posted:

I couldn't find it either, but either that or a similar post involved Donald Trump introducing and worshipping the :orb: which eventually turned him into a giant pulsating mass of flesh that was slowly engulfing America, and the boomers were willingly being subsumed by the Trump blob as they believed paradise was on the inside of it.
This one?

DAD LOST MY IPOD posted:

Riyadh- Controversy erupted amid the White House Press Corps today as White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer denied reports that President Donald Trump touched the dreadful Orb to gain its power.

“This is ridiculous. Donald Trump pledged to the American people that he would resist the beguiling siren song of the Orb, and he has done so. This is yet another distraction by the failed Democratic party trying to block President Trump’s Make America Great Again agenda.”

Hours later, President Trump tweeted “Yes- I touched the Orb. Obama wouldn’t listen to the song of the Orb. Big mistake! Insulted allies and the Orb!” When asked for comment, Spicer said “I think the President’s tweet speaks for itself.”

Op-ed, NYT: Once Again, President Trump Crosses a Red Line
…have we forgotten the lessons of the past so easily? Yes, the Orb’s melody is alluring and seductive, but the power it grants corrupts body and mind. Who can forget Dwight Eisenhower’s famous farewell speech, in which he warned of “the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the Orb?” We cannot know the Orb’s true intentions for mankind, but it is all too easy to imagine that they are hostile and alien.
We say to Donald Trump: reject the politics of division! Reject hatred! And reject the Orb, for though its lambent glow soothes the mind, the terrible power that crackles across its surface will bring you no peace.

Op-ed, WSJ: Liberal Critics Overstate the Dangers of the Orb
…yes, we know the Orb may not have our best interests at heart, but we should trust the Orb to act rationally. It is in the best interests of the Orb, now that Donald Trump has been suffused with its vast might, to work for America, not against it. If we cannot trust the President of the United States to safeguard the might of the Orb, then who can we trust? An Orb Working Group, its members drawn from the elite across fields, will be able to strategize the best way to harness the Orb’s awful might and transform our society just as it has transformed Donald Trump’s living flesh into bitter, cold darkness.

Tweet, RealDonaldTrump account:
Haters and losers say that Orb cannot be trusted. I have absorbed Orb and will carry it within my soul! #MAGA!

8.2k replies 7.4k retweets 45k likes

posts from r/the_donald, thread entitled “INCREDIBLE: he touches the Orb! CUCKS BTFO!!!”
MAGA_MAN_X

fellow pedes i can’t believe he’s done it again!

volkisch1487

cucked SJWs at my school cant stop cryin about this, rofl

trumpinTN12

This is really Presidential. This is a breath of fresh air after 8 years of 0bungler.

Rachel Maddow, 6/27/17 broadcast (partial transcript)
…and his skin, it’s turned midnight black. I think I see rainbows moving across it, like an oil slick in sunlight. But just so you know, the White House is denying all of it. They’re denying that he’s taken on the Orb’s power, they’re denying that he’s grown to twelve feet tall, they’re denying that anything happened at all. Lightning struck the White House 452 times last night, according to meteorologists. This is not normal.

Tweet, LouiseMensch account
Sources have revealed to me that #orb was planted by #Russia, #Putin. Supreme Court preparing Articles of Exorcism as I write.

12 replies 180 retweets 100 likes

#Neverorb, Erick Erickson, Redstate.com
…the Republican Party used to stand for something greater than the pulsing Orb and its horrible keening drone. I remember that, even if the bootlickers in Congress don’t. The Orb has no regard for human life, not even the life of the unborn. Hey, Paul Ryan — why does your budget allocate $0 to faith-based family centers that offer alternatives to abortion, but $800 billion to a massive basalt monolith in the middle of Washington DC?

Sean Hannity show, 7/12/17
HANNITY: These liberals, they fear the Orb. They’re afraid of it.
GINGRICH: You know, it’s sad, it really is, because the Orb wants what’s best for America, for all of us, and-
HANNITY: Exactly! The Orb loves us! The Orb-
[crosstalk]
GINGRICH: It’s like I said in 1994, the American People don’t want big government. They want a vast, glowing Orb that swells up to block out the sun.

Bernie Sanders, speech, 8/16/17
…and I don’t think it’s right that President Trump now walks around outside for days at a time, plants wilting wherever he plants his massive feet. I don’t think it’s right that our President, a billionaire, gets to be twenty feet tall and exude an oily darkness while the regular, hard-working people of this country slave away for long hours for a minimum wage that’s not enough to feed a family. I don’t think it’s right that every night the pool at the foot of the massive basalt altar in DC — paid for with tax money, yours and mine — must be filled with sacrifices of blood, hair and teeth. Not when millionaires and billionaires pay less tax than at any time in the last century.

Barack Obama, GQ interview, 9/2/17
…I don’t want to sound overly critical. But when I was President, I didn’t touch the Orb, for a very good reason. And, you know, I wanted to. I could have easily. I heard it singing to me in my dreams, a song that melted away like morning dew when I awoke. And I could have… (he loses focus for a moment)
I could have touched it. But I didn’t. And I think that was the right choice for the American people, and when you look at the boiling butt of gnats that used to be our President, I think you’ll agree with me.

Headline, Washington Post
CROP FAILURES ACROSS MIDWEST

Life Force Drained to Feed Orb’s “Endless, Terrible Hunger.”

Blog Post, fivethirtyeight.com
The Disappearance of the Upper Midwest in a Vortex of Madness Could Doom Trump’s Re-Election Chances

From “The Orbs of Our Fathers,” an essay by Ta-Nehisi Coates in The Atlantic
…I knew from the moment I saw it what the Orb was. I knew what it represented, even when others chose not to see. The Orb is America. The Orb is white supremacy, hatred and disregard, the disregard that communities of color face every day. The Orb is Donald Trump, and Donald Trump is the Orb. His body has evaporated, but we see him now reflected in puddles of oily rain, on our television screens, in our dreams. He is screaming, only screaming. That scream is the hate-cry of white supremacy, the message that never leaves us.

Why is the President Screaming: a special report by CBS News
JOHN DICKERSON: Experts say that that the power of the Orb may have consumed President Trump and now feeds on his soul. What does this mean for us as a Nation? Was it a mistake to touch the Orb?

REINCE PRIEBUS: No, John, not at all. These reports are yet more distractions from the liberal media. The President is deep in contemplation of the Orb’s mysteries. That’s why he isn’t seen outside these days.

JOHN DICKERSON: Do you have an explanation for why every reflective surface on Earth shows the President’s screaming visage at precisely 4:22 PM each day? Or why the great black Monolith of the Mall has cracked right down its face?

REINCE PRIEBUS: Listen, if you want to sit there and criticize every little thing the President does, you have that right. I can’t stop you. But frankly, it’s counterproductive, and it’s a little sad when the President’s agenda has been such a success. I mean, the crops are growing again, they’re-

JOHN DICKERSON: The farmers are saying that the crops are twisted and swollen with unholy power. They’re inedible. They’re useless.

REINCE PRIEBUS: We’re growing for export. We knew there would be resistance when we set out to make America great again, there will be hiccups, but…

Inaugural Statement from Mike Pence
…and in the weeks and months to come, we know there will be questions. Where is President Donald Trump? Why do we still hear him screaming, faintly, at the edge of our hearing? What has become of the baneful Orb that hung low in the sky like a second sun? My fellow Americans, I do not have all the answers for you. This should be a time for healing, a time for people of all faiths to come together and bow their heads in thankfulness that the Orb’s awful designs have been averted. I never expected or wanted this, but I solemnly swear to do my duty as your President, to heal a wounded nation, and to stand strong against the alien menace of the Orb wherever it threatens. I pledge that I will never touch the Orb or any other item of cosmic, unknowable power.

Alex Jones show, 11/25/17
…and he’s heading to Beijing next week for a summit. Can you believe that? We all know that they’ve recently unearthed a gleaming cube of alien metal from the ruins below Xi’an. What is the President hiding? Why won’t he tell us whether he plans to touch the Cube?

Jeza
Feb 13, 2011

The cries of the dead are terrible indeed; you should try not to hear them.

Grammarchist posted:

A while back someone made a spiritual sequel to that one post from 2008 about Obama growing to the size of a mountain and sending all the Muslims to a new Eden on the Moon.

Most of it was about living on a dead Earth while the Boomers praised the economy, culminating with a mysterious figure descending from the moon. The Boomers set upon the figure, who shatters into pieces that fall to the ground. Millennials plant the pieces hoping to see flowers bloom again.

Does that ring any bells?

Not confused, this is the post you were looking for:

Heath posted:

One spring, during President Trump's third consecutive term, the flowers didn't bloom.

Nobody knew what the cause was, specifically - it could be blamed in some broad sense on climate change and our total failure to deal with it, but no chemical or biological reason could be pinpointed. Weeks into June and not a single blossom could be found anywhere.

"These things come in cycles," my father said. "Why, when I was a kid, we had winters with ten-foot snow drifts. You all complain too much. They'll be back next year."

None of us were quite sure what to make of it. Accusations of alarmism flew from all corners. Younger generations claimed it was a sign of the end times. Older generations were less concerned. It'll get better, they told us.

The summer passed without a trace, hot, bright, colorless. Dead bees, what ones remained, accumulated in clumps, overflowing gutters. Butterflies gathered and flew in mysterious concentric circles around false flowers in porchside pots for hours at a time. I spent a day watching them, and I could hear their chanting. They had resorted to magic ritual, formerly the purview of humanity, to bring the flowers back, but nothing came. The summer passed into fall, and our food supplies were dwindling. No cause for alarm, we were told - things would be better next year.

President Trump began to swell in size. He had already been a large man, but even over video his presence seemed to extend from the screen into the very room we occupied while we watched, often in silence, rationing our stale and freezerburnt bread. We no longer needed the failing flowers, he said - we had something newer, better, bigger in development. Within weeks, the official White House store put on offer a new substance available to each and every American, each container golden and sparkling, promising tremendous sustenance. Whether the flowers came back or not, we would be fine, better than before, even. Bigger, stronger, huger.

"You really ought to try this stuff. I haven't felt this good in years," my uncle told me. In fact, everyone told me that, at least, everyone over a certain age - it was implicit among my cohort that we didn't trust anything Trump had on offer. He was well over 400 pounds now by all appearances, but even that was a conservative estimate, because he was becoming indistinguishable from the buildings he occupied, and even from the people around him. It was impossible to place quite where he began and we ended. But all we could do was continue on.

Our parents weren't worried. Things were better now. The stock market was up, and the job market was better than ever now that a majority of the workforce was employed in the manufacture of the mysterious liquid that was sustaining what remained of the population. Those who would talk about the process by which it was made, its ingredients, its origins, all gave conflicting accounts about any of them. Those who wouldn't talk about it no longer had light in their eyes - but then, none of us did.

The following spring, more things happened, or didn't happen, as the case may be. The branches of willow trees reached upwards as though hung upside-down, their leaves sprouting, green for a few days and fading to a sick yellow, falling off, blowing away in the wind, and accumulating in occult patterns on the parched and abandoned farmlands. The phases of the moon began to slow; it would remain full for days, and then weeks at a time, and disappear entirely. Every time it came back, it was either larger, or closer - no one could be sure. Telescopes could no longer focus, or when they could, seemed to peer into other, better worlds. Increasingly, we were trapped here. But for the sun and the moon, the stars had abandoned us.

By some luck, I had traded some of my remaining food, simple corn flakes, for a small leather pouch filled with dessicated lilacs. These little pouches were quite the commodity these days. One could not walk down the street without being assaulted with the stench of greasy, rotting flesh from the Boomers around us. A shrunken, leathery woman, her eyes long since rotted away and replaced with scarred flesh, grabbed me by the collar and, weeping, shrieked the question she had been asking every other passerby: "Where are the flowers? Where have they gone?" I reached into my pocket and retrieved a few petals, put them into her hands, and shoved her away. She huffed them hungrily, snorting with a strange sort of belch, and slinked away into an alleyway.

The AARP became a frequent topic of discussion. "You really ought to join the AARP," the Boomers told us. "It's the best way to travel. It's bliss." None of us knew what they meant or why they were so focused on it, at least, not at first. Suddenly, the Boomers began appearing in several places at once. My uncle paid me a surprise visit, and at the same time, also visited my sister, two counties away, to sell us on the virtues of the AARP. "You'll love the benefits," he said. "You should join as soon as possible."

The roads were already crumbling, and had been for years. The cracks in between the chunks of asphalt began to fill with a strange, thick substance that could only be described as loose fatty flesh that snaked its way into every crevice like a reeking, invasive kudzu. One of my friends, on one night with an oppressively bright and humongous moon, witnessed a Boomer kneel down and begin to burrow into the slime, disappear entirely within it, and reemerge the next day. When confronted, the Boomer explained that he was simply going to his AARP meetup. We learned that the AARP was their name for this network of rancid, tumescent growth, a portion of the sort of hive they had developed for themselves to survive the increasingly harsh heat of the day. None of us dared approach it for fear of being assimilated, if not devoured.

Our children had long since disappeared. They, too, had their own sort of secret communication - through their innocence, they had found a way to escape from this doomed world. My five year old told me, sadly, that he couldn't tell me how I could follow him, and that I didn't need to worry. At times, he would reappear, telling me tales of other worlds where things had gone differently. He would share treasures with me, but said I could not keep them, for fear of some contamination, or sanction from some incomprehensible body, or some other obscure reason. I didn't have much willpower, or indeed much capacity, to try and comprehend his reasons. I was simply happy to see him. I did gain some understanding of the unequal flow of time between us. While I aged as normal, he would appear to me one day as a middle aged man, and then a few weeks later, perhaps, as a seven-year-old, and then again at twenty-three; he was very explicit that I should never share his future with him, lest I disrupt his travels. I made sure to stick to that, for his sake. I loved him dearly.

The moon was intruding intolerably within our conscious space. It began to fill the entire sky, such that the days and nights looked much the same. God Emperor Trump was correct about one thing - no one went hungry anymore. No one even experienced the sensation. We simply could not die.

One day, a structure emerged on the surface of the moon. It appeared like some sort of unicorn's horn expanding outward toward us. We prayed that this was either a portent of salvation, or of a quick end, if not both. It was the first time any of us felt anything like hope. The Boomers had now retreated entirely within the confines of the AARP, where nothing could reach them, with the exception of God Emperor Trump - which, that is to say, was one in the same with the flesh mound, having covered most of what remained of dry land at this point.

The structure came closer with each day, grew longer, extending toward the surface of our planet. A crystalline minaret, beautiful and made of glass, the first shining thing any of has had seen in what seemed like centuries. We could see the spiral staircase contained within, and a single figure was descending at a leisurely pace. His journey took years. We knew he was coming to take us away from here. We waited in silent meditation. It had been so long since he had ascended to the lunar surface that most of us had forgotten about him.

Then, with nothing left but our hope, the figure mere days away from our surface, the AARP attacked. Tendrils of rotting, veiny flesh wrapped around the spiral staircase and relentlessly grasped it, twisting it, crushing it; and us with it. We did not fight back - we maintained our silent prayers, for it was all we could do. Shards of crystal rained across the earth, injuring many, burying themselves in our skin, and the descending figure fell gracefully into the aether, and was never seen again. The glassy pieces fell between stones, into the dirt. We gave them water. We prayed. If they could only bloom, we might see the flowers again.

EorayMel
May 30, 2015

WE GET IT. YOU LOVE GUN JESUS. Toujours des fusils Bullpup Français.

Soulex posted:

No,mthough she has almost burnt poo poo beyond recognition, let me get away with smoking while my dad was away when I was a teen and in school, and under seasoned a bunch of stuff, but mostly it's normal. She relies on texture.

Yes we've already had the "could you eat poop?" Conversation. Yes, she could possibly.

Yes, I've already asked her if she could pick up radio signals with her metal plate. No, sadly, she can't.

Yes, free for all with flatulence. Though she wins all the time because she's super into that organic free moving compost farm this eat that movement.

She enjoys texture and spice with foods. It means more now than it did.

Also, she glitters her shoes and talks to birds. Not like having a conversation like they're talking back, but like how you would a kid I guess.

My step mom kicks rear end, and I'll fight everyone.

Pick
Jul 19, 2009
Nap Ghost

Syd Midnight posted:


A collection of reviews of Wraeththu. The name vaguely rang a bell, some kinda bad RPG? But why the hell was there a picture of bifurcated hotdog octopi on the cover? So I started reading it, and then I remembered, and then I regretted doing both those things.

Oh man, Wraethuthu! One of my favorite things on the internet! fuckin bless

sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010


Legit Cyberpunk









Pick posted:

Oh man, Wraethuthu! One of my favorite things on the internet! fuckin bless

The tier list of talking about elf dick murder sex with your players

EorayMel
May 30, 2015

WE GET IT. YOU LOVE GUN JESUS. Toujours des fusils Bullpup Français.

jeremystery posted:

this is the longest i've ever gone without being banned. this website really is for a bunch of "boys club" losers. If I dare to disagree with a moderator: instant ban. I'm just putting poo poo up here to get attention to my poo poo like a selfish PR rear end in a top hat. I can't believe I ever revered anyone from this website or ever took Let's Play so seriously. Lowtax is a wife beating rear end in a top hat who can't take criticism so he has his lame lacky mods just ban anyone who doesn't give abject praise. Enjoy my 9.95, rear end in a top hat and gently caress this lame rear end safe space website. I STRONGLY LOOK FORWARD TO BEING BANNED. And if I'm not banned out of spite then I've found a loophole to freedom of speech on this pitiful website. If I am banned, then that's exactly what I expected you sheep to do and you're playing into my hands. It's like the end of 7, no matter what you do, even if you kill me; I win. #PredictableLosers

(USER WAS PUT ON PROBATION FOR THIS POST)

Fleta Mcgurn
Oct 5, 2003

Porpoise noise continues.
WOW EDGY I AM COVERED IN A MILLION TINY CUTS INTO WHICH YOU HAVE POURED THE LEMON JUICE OF YOUR SCORN GOON SIR

Rust Martialis
May 8, 2007

At night, Bavovnyatko quietly comes to the occupiers’ bases, depots, airfields, oil refineries and other places full of flammable items and starts playing with fire there

Fleta Mcgurn posted:

WOW EDGY I AM COVERED IN A MILLION TINY CUTS INTO WHICH YOU HAVE POURED THE LEMON JUICE OF YOUR SCORN GOON SIR

Ghaaaash!

FEMA summer camp
Jan 22, 2006

Phy posted:

"That's not my department," says Elfdick Von Braun

nice

Solice Kirsk
Jun 1, 2004

.
I have no idea who that is.

Fleta Mcgurn
Oct 5, 2003

Porpoise noise continues.

Solice Kirsk posted:

I have no idea who that is.

I think he was friends with Elfingbert Humpadick.

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

Solice Kirsk
Jun 1, 2004

.
Oooooh! Yeah, that guy's OK.

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