Originally posted by MexicanMasterRace
Yes he is. The guy who wants an iPhone has a problem that can be solved. Money. His motive is temporary and situational. A racists is not. Their motive is an ideology. It's like trying to reason with ISIS members. You just can't rehabilitate indoctrination. The only reason you're crying about this is because you're an admitted racist who thinks black people are literally coming to take your home. Look here! This youtube video proves it.
Yeah, no thanks. Im glad federal law is what it is. Hate crimes are a thing in 47 state laws as well. This isn't going away and fuck anyone who wants it to.
Your history makes it clear you don't care about others tho. I dont expect you to have sympathy unless you're paid to
An iphone isnt a necessity for life. If you think killing someone for a phone is a rational reaction, that person is just as broken and irredeemable as anyone else. Selfishness is an ideology. Why is extreme disregard for life any different. Makes zero fucking sense. Hate crime laws are just a gigantic societal virtue signal. If existing penalties already arent a deterrent, then why dont we have harsher penalties in the first place?
Protip: If youre convinced youre not racist, its probably because youre racist.
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Originally posted by Sudo
There's a porn site/genre called "scam angels" which also stole my idea. I posted about it on zoklet before, someone must have been lurking. Fucksake, foiled by coupon guy again
Theres a Muslim porn site called Ham Angels where women in burqas rub pork products on their naughty bits.
haraam ham
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Originally posted by MexicanMasterRace
What if you take it off and look down at your crotch, and find there's another face there, and that you're actually the costume who is about to be discarded
Last time I do duster and LSD I'll tell you what
It happens
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Remembering some creepy ghosty shit from when i was a kid, Thinking of a way to incorporate it into a creepypasta.
When i was in high school, we still had an answering machine. One night the phone rang at like 11 or something but my mom was watching TV and i was doing something else.
I listened to the message the next afternoon. Was super staticy, only a few seconds long. A girl crying.
“Daddy, im in trOuBle....”
the last word kind of warbled like the tape was going bad,and then a sharp crack like the phone being disconnected or slammed down on a reciever or something. I mentioned it to my mom and she said it was someone trying to play a prank on me. But no one really knew my house number and certainly no one cared about me enough to try to prank me.
It was simple, but the message just always creeped me the fuck out. Who was the person actually trying to call.
I figured maybe i combine it with another of my irl spooky stories.
A couple years ago there was this banging in the middle of the night, My house is from the early 40s and theres these metal heating grates in the floor. Id hear this booming coming from the duct work at like 2am. Eventually Id get pissed off and go outside to realize someone jad left the cover off the crawlspace on the side of the house. So id figure it was a possum, try to flushit out with the hose and generally make it shut the fuck up. Id lean a couple huge 30lb cinderblocks against the old bent up cover, and leave it be.
Couple of nights later, same deal. Im really,really annoyed. This time it sounds like someone is also tapping a pipe with a wrench. Theres a popping, like snapping twigs. i Go outside. The cover is off the crawlspace. Im really confused. I shine my super powerful flashlight and stick my head in as far as im willing to. Smells like complete ass and gross dust. Maybe 60 or 70 feet near the other corner of the foundation, i see a fluffy tail. Fucking raccoons. I go to the other side of the house and spray pesticide to try to flush it out the other end- which is about as good as i can do at 1am without waking people up. No sound for like 30 min. I go out, replace the cinderblocks. Stack another across the two of them.
2:30 am. I wake up. Clunk outside my window. Crunching leaves that sound like someone in shoes- if that makes sense. Quiet. Clunk. A raspy sound. This time the sound is directly underneath the bathtub. I listen through the porcelain. Lick. Lick. Lick. Lick. Fine. If all its going to do is that, I dont care. Ill take it. I just want quiet. A few min pass. More clunking. Finally i stomp into the bathroom and slap the bottom of the tub twice angrily. Quiet. Quiet.
BANG BANG.
Dude the goosebumps i got all over my body were fucking insane.
I stood really still listening for prolly 2 whole minutes. When i finally shifted my weight, a tiny scraping moved slowly from one side of the tub to the other.
I went to my room and got my gun and flashlight and went outside. Let it not be said that Casper was too scurred to confront a Chupanabra. Ofc the cinder blocks were off again.
Sat up watching tv with the gun for a while. Next day found a cats hindquarter and a little spool of intestine in the bushes outside the crawl space.
I still dunno wtf was in there, but i dont think raccoons eat cats, and idk how a coyote wouldve moved those cinderblocks so easily.
But it occurred to me that if id heard someone whisper something from underneath the house that night, i think i wouldve fucking had a heartattack.
Anyway. Those are my 100% true mini creepypastas.
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Move with me to Peru and it can be reality. We’ll start a company specializing in organic indigenous herbs and quinoa as a front to move cocaine, and use the proceeds to fund a private military and trained jaguars to succ our pinky fingers subserviently.
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