Here in Austin, Richard repoza during sxsw put up whytes only stickers on a bunch of shops downtown. And he's an attorney but has been arrested numerous times for his shenanigans. He's an obvious stoner/troll
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Originally posted by RestStop
^ I remember seeing something about that on youtube but that occured during my drinking days..how did that guy acquire pieces of the moon? Not doubting your story but it's not like you can go into any random pawn shop and be like "I'm looking for a piece of the moon, nigga".
he's George bushes cousin, his house is like a museum. He has pieces of the titanic and works for the republican party here here. He's got tons of pictures of him with "reputable" figure heads like the Clintons and his family the bushes
that and he also looks like a bush, walks like a bush, talks like a bush...
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Originally posted by RestStop
^ I remember seeing something about that on youtube but that occured during my drinking days..how did that guy acquire pieces of the moon? Not doubting your story but it's not like you can go into any random pawn shop and be like "I'm looking for a piece of the moon, nigga".
Originally posted by RestStop
You make an excellent point. It's nostalgia. You correlate those old songs to pleasant memories subconsciously would be my best guess. Like how the rolling stones was once devil's music but now they use it to sell Cadillacs in commercials because people that are old and wealthy enough to buy a new one grew up listening to that music.
i do also now like a lot of old, pre-me, music that i've never even heard before. i have literally learned to listen to music, not just hear it. and i now judge each track on its own merit. i often like tracks from certain artists even tho i hate all their other tracks.
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Originally posted by RestStop
About a year ago I was involved in a car accident where I was the only fatality in a truck containing 6 people. I remember looking up from the passenger seat and seeing an oncoming vehicle and the rest is just darkness. I couldn't move or speak and could only listen to the screaming of my friends as they escaped the burning truck. Eventually all went quiet and I could hear a soft voice and a man appeared in front of me. The man informed me I was dead and that it was time I move on. Confused, I asked what he was talking about and if this was a dream. The man smiled and said that denial is a part of moving on but agreed to show me proof. Suddenly we were at a funeral viewing and the man carefully guided me up to the casket. After taking a closer look I all but freaked out as I saw myself lying dead in the casket. With my hands trembling as I touched my cold skin reality began to set in.
“Let’s go” he said. “We can’t stay here forever.”
I was shocked and began breaking down. I pleaded with the man to help me, after all I was just a sophomore in college with so much life ahead of me. I asked the man if there was anyway he could help me or give me a chance.
“Well yes, there is one way, but of course like everything it comes at a cost.” He said.
“What sort of cost? Like my soul?” I replied.
“No, no, my child I am not trying to take your soul it is already accounted for. However, there is still a price to pay but what exactly it is varies from person to person. Think of it as more of a trade, by accepting this extension you agree to trade me something back.”
“Will anyone be hurt?”
“Have no fear; no one will endure any pain. The price may not even be realized immediately, and don’t worry your satisfaction is guaranteed.”
The man then looked in his coat and pulled out a black book, he flipped through the pages, turned his focus back to me and said:
“Now if you’re ready to go through with this, please just sign here” He pointed at a blank page in the book.
“In blood?” I asked
The man chuckled softly and stated: “No my boy, with this pen”
He handed me a pen and I began to sign the book. As I finished my signature I began to feel warmth in my chest and the man began to fade away. The last thing he said to me before he vanished was:
“Bye for now and I hope you are satisfied with this trade.”
I woke up in a hospital bed and was told I had been in an accident and more importantly I had been the sole survivor of a crash that should have killed me. The doctor stated that it was a miracle I survived unscathed while the others died on impact. He also informed me that I had been in a coma for quite some time but that with therapy I should be back to normal in no time. A while later my parents visited and explained that due to the drunken semi driver hitting us that my friend’s families and my family had gotten some rather large settlements. My parents said that with proper investing and management I wouldn’t have to ever worry about money.
As you can imagine I wasn’t able to sleep well. Every time my eyes would close I would hear my friends’ screams, this was eventually paired with images of them yelling as flames engulfed them. Having to live in the house 2 of my now deceased friends shared with me didn’t help either. I drink a lot now to try and escape the reality that I selfishly traded my one life for theirs. After all, they were my best friends since elementary and I selfishly traded my own life for theirs. Days, weeks and months went on with me killing bottle after bottle trying to cope with myself all while crazily calling to the air that I wanted to undo this trade. I thought I would never here from the man and that I was just crazy and thought a dream was reality. However, yesterday something strange happened, the doorbell rang and as I carried my hungover self to the door and opened it I realized there was no one there. Looking down I noticed a black business card with red letters lying on the ground with two lines that read:
“Unsatisfied with your recent trade?”
“Give me a call!”
The back of the card had a number paired with an image of the familiar man printed next to it. Nothing prepared me for what was in store for me when I called that number.
check out a story called "why i havent showered in 21 years", i think you'd like it
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Originally posted by RestStop
Time to breakout my most accomplished literary piece once more…
There once was a man named Bill the cat and all his wife did was fuss. Until one day a big dick trill nigga mounted his wife and said "cucked". So Bill decided to hang himself and so his wimpy dick dangled until the reaper showed up and said "Boy, you're fucked."
Post last edited by RestStop at 2017-06-30T23:55:36.899783+00:00
that being your most accomplished literary piece explains a lot.
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