Y’know, we’ve all been worrying ourselves about the increasing potential
for violent uprising, and how to know when (or if) the shooting ought
to start. When the Dictator In Chief is chucking old folks out of their
homes for no purpose other than indulging in some pointless political
theater, and his sick-fuck minions are going cheerfully along with it
with nary a visible qualm, I’d say the writing’s pretty much on the
The link is here.
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I hear them choppers whirring'.
I've gone around the bend,
And I ain't seen my pecker
Since I don't know when.
I'm stuck under this tinfoil
My brain's about to fry.
But the black birds keep on whirring'.
Kiss my ass bye-bye.
Look forward to anony's death.
Once Nathan Hale finishes polishing dad's hardware we can proceed to conference.
Whatever that means. Come and get it, cum stain.
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