Just finishing a buttermilk biscuit and now snacking on some bbq chips reminds me to appreciate the subtle sweetness of life. It reminds me that I don't always need the bitterness of Budweiser but at times a cab sav will do. Not a Reese's buttercup is always needed but sometimes a sweet dough bread stick will do. The sweet suckling of half a Newport along with half a tenth of shard will do me. Not a baboon from Africa but a red bone pilgrim will rise me from my common slumber.
It's okay to blast some L isomer doesn't always have to be pure D-meth from down unda. Oh some place far away and long ago I shall be telling this woeful tale with a gander. I chose the subtle sweetness of life and that has made all the difference.
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Roughly half of you here actually suffer from Faggotus Maximus.
Symtoms include : - Not being able to own up to one's own and sole responsibilities - Not being able to get one's own "dick wet" - The inability to take action in any direction that result in a positive life change. - Generally being a faggot ass who places one's own failures of phantom illnesses. - Being a whiny faggot in general. - Sucking at life. - Getting cucked in every tangible way possible.
Unfortunately there is no full cure for Faggotus Maximus but there are steps you can take to lessen and even halt it's progression. These include :
- Stop being a faggot. - Standing your ground - Being a man and dealing with life's problems proactively. - Stop being a faggot(see above).
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Originally posted by infinityshock
someone translate that nigger-ese into english…
He was walking his dog at 10:30 pm when suddenly a man appeared out of no where; dick in hand. Obviously frightened he asked the man "What the fuck are you doing?" The man replied that he was just trying to urinate in peace. Unsatisfied with his answer, OP became even more terrified and frightened by the dick wielding stranger probably from a traumatic flash back childhood experience of strange men hand wielding their dicks. So distraught he imagined stabbing the man in order to protect his anus from penetration.
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The second video seems pretty cool/normal. The bat in the first video I would literally fucking shoot with my .40 cal. Shooting it would be an understatement I'd empty the magazine into it's face fuck that evil thing and anything like it.
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Originally posted by NARCassist
i left five bucks in my jeans and put them in the machine at the launderettes. so they laundered money and dint even know it.
.
That's nothin'. I once saved all the one dollar bills I made from selling meth then split them all up between 5 of my closest friends. We then went to the laundromat two blocks away and exchanged them for quarters. Careful not to draw too much suspicion we then hit up chuck e cheeses all across two states namely focusing on whack a mole and ice hockey. My third strike team then had double agent cashiers triple redeem the prize tickets mostly in the form of nerf footballs and beanie babies.
All across the country sleeper agents in the form of retired car salesman and chocolate chip cookie baking grandmothers set up ebay stores and mom and pop shop stores all across the US. 77% of all profits were funneled to various swiss bank accounts were they bounced across the globe for several months. We all came out several hundred dollars richer that summer and all the kids and pre teens that summer somehow had a few extra neef footballs and beanie babies just enough to keep them happy yet just too few not to raise parent's suspicions. My boys and me came out smelling like roses that summer and one thing was for sure ; we were ready to rock.
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I'm going to write and if necessary self publish a book titled "All faggots go to heaven" and then when I'm on Oprah/Aging Dr. Phil I'm going to tell them how the book is highly misinterpreted and actually empowering to gays then after I have them all convinced I'll somehow let everyone know that I was just trolling the whole time and actually how I hate them all and actually all faggots go to hell LOL.
This is after I make at least a few million selling the book though.
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Originally posted by Oasis
i've said so many bad things to you when i was angry and crazy and high, but im getting so upset because any little thing that was said or done was so important to me. you complete me. besides being a gf you were also the friend ive always wanted to have. we got to explore our minds together and i did it with you. we were sharing the same thoughts and experiences and we were more in love than a lot of people who actually did get married. i can just tell you'd feel soft and gentle in my arms and my kisses would let you know that you're the best. i know i keep on repeating myself and saying cliched things but since im not talking to you in person.. when i tell you i love you think of it like a kiss.. and if i say it more times its a bunch of kisses. you make me smile and i think you're a very interesting person. the way you see the world is so unique and i want to be there to share these experiences with you
Cucked.
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Why do girls assume you'll help them just because they have a pussy? I mean it's even more insulting and yet comical when they have some old man that just got out of prison like you didn't even hint at the suggestion of liking them more than a casual friend you talk to every once in a blue moon but they ask people for favors/rides/money/generally any and every fucking thing like you two have been besties since kindergarten.
I've been dealing with junkies and all around general pieces of shit for the past decade so it shouldn't surprise me but it somehow still does. I mean isn't it embarrassing to be 24+ and still have to ask people to buy you cigarettes? Does it not hurt your pride at least one bit that you don't have the means or transportation to take your obviously very sick toddler to a hospital?
Is it not awkward to have to steal boots for your child from Walmart so they're feet don't freeze in the winter? Does it not suck to have to put up with your very obviously evil and racist and drunk grandfather because he's the only one that will allow your bitch ass inside his home? I suppose that's the beauty and escape drugs offer. Their power is what I would equate to being on a supernatural level. You can't defeat the beast that you love more than life itself and whatever faith you had of a bright future is lost. You're not beating the devil by going to church; you're just losing slowly.
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Originally posted by Malice
You could likely get away with it pretty easily. I've read that there's a serious heroin/opioid epidemic going on, with deaths from overdoses possibly having increased manyfold, and there is a problem with H being laced with fent.
Especially if you live in an area that already has a serious problem with this. When you take that into account, and all the drug material they would be bound to find a hardcore opioid addict's house, they would quickly just right it off as another junkie who overdosed.
Honestly, if you didn't slip up and do something stupid, you could probably get away with killing every last one of them pretty easily.
Yes FAM Yes.
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Originally posted by SCronaldo_J_Trump
i just cant die
Several hours after this post Scronaldo was found by his mother and 3 hookers coming over at the last minute. On his recently deceased body they found several triangles tattooed on his torso namely his chest and back area. Inexplicably he also had "Zaint Zattocks Day" in two inch letters across his stomach. What broke his mother's heart the most is that she had no idea what "Tech" was when the hookers asked her her for it in the form of payment for their would be services rendered. Little did she know it's what those little crystals pooled in the bottom of the oil burner pipe little ronaldo gripped in his now lifeless hand.
RIP SCronaldo "Zaint Zattocks" Trump. Gone but not forgotten.
Post last edited by RestStop at 2017-05-29T11:08:17.988754+00:00
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Now, my grandmother was a wonderful person. She taught me how to play the game, Monopoly. She understood that the name of the game is to acquire. She would accumulate everything she could and eventually, she became the master of the board. And eventually, every time she would take my last dollar and I would quit in utter defeat.
And then she would always say the same thing to me. She would look at me and say: “One day, you’ll learn to play the game.”
One summer I played Monopoly with a neighbor almost every day, all day long. And that summer, I learned to play the game. I came to understand the only way to win is to make a total commitment to acquisition. I came to understand that money and possessions… that’s the way that you keep score. And by the end of that summer I was more ruthless than my grandmother. I was ready to bend the rules if I had to, to win that game… and I sat down with her to play that fall. I took everything she had. I destroyed her financially and psychologically, I watched her give her last dollar and quit in utter defeat.
And then she had one more thing to teach me. Then she said: “Now it all goes back in the box. All those houses and hotels. All the railroads and utility companies… All that property and all that wonderful money… Now it all goes back in the box. None of it was really yours. Houses and cars… titles and clothes… bulging portfolios… even your body.”
Because the fact is that everything I clutch and consume and hoard is going to go back in the box, and I’m going to lose it all. You have to ask yourself, when you finally get the ultimate promotion, when you make the ultimate purchase, when you buy the ultimate home, when you have stored up financial security and climbed the ladder of success to the highest rung you can possibly climb it… and the thrill wears off – and it will wear off – then what? How far do you have to walk down that road before you see where it leads? Surely you understand it will never be enough.
So you have to ask yourself the question: What matters?
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Originally posted by mmQ
If you're using drones it's assumed that you probably trust whoever you're dealing with since you won't be there in person to ensure they deliver on their end.
If that's the case, an alternative approach could just be a drop spot but somewhere out of city limits, like buried in a shallow grave in a wooded area somewhere.
Or I guess that being said you could just meet them somewhere way out of town in the middle of nowhere, ala Breaking Bad style middle of desert.
Yeah both our scenarios are pretty close it's just a matter of low tech vs hi tech. Idk I feel that having a cop pull up to you while your pulling an 8 ball of shards off of a drone gives more plausible deniability than digging something out of the woods though. You could just say something like "well officer this space age crazy ass drone just flew in my yard so of course I went to investigate. What's even weirder though is I just found this bag attached to it full of glass...who would fly a bag of glass around town?" Be sure to say this in your most suburban white kid ignorant voice you can muster..if you're in a rural area or the south try to pull off a forest gump. In the woods scenario this would be a bit harder to pull off but I suppose with enough dumbassedness you could accomplish the same thing (wear corduroys with cowboy boots to insure maximum believable ignorance).
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