Dear Foul Wretched Spawn of Society,
I am truly sorry your precious snowflake did her absolute damnedest to be removed twice from our store by stealing, moving her lips and producing such a great wind as to knock over merchandise, and then refusing to place it back where it belongs, which I see you’ve taught her well.
You’d have to be brain dead to have missed the buzz around Geoffry A. Rawlin’s Philosophical Zombie 2 (P-Zed2). Moviegoers delighted at the original Philosophical Zombie, a blockbuster hit which threatened to overturn the zombie horror genre. The sequel promises us a bigger story, more zombies, and more horror, all on a bigger budget. Sounds good. But as a critic, I must ask the question: does the film live up to the hype?
This isn’t even the right flag! That’s Liberia’s flag! As if decades of slavery were not enough, now we deface someone else’s flag just because we’re too fucking LAZY to ink the RIGHT NUMBER OF STARS!
Worse still, it’s a THROW PILLOW. It’s not even a real pillow!
It’s like a big-game hunter tracking down the last Tasmanian tiger and then calling it a dingo when he mounts it to his wall.
Patriotic holidays are just commercialist circlejerks. We don’t honor the fallen. We have sales on mattresses. It’s bad enough that Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and Labor Day have been bastardized, but why you gotta exploit the blood of our ancestors to make a $.59 profit on a refrigerator magnet?
You thought it was the stuff of fiction. You said it couldn’t happen here. You were wrong; dead wrong. Too bad you’re the President of the United States.
Ladies, gentlemen, and members of Tardigrade species for whom gender has no meaning… I welcome you to the twilight of humanity. For centuries, these worthless fools have debated the numbers of angels dancing on the heads of pins, while they should have been counting the numbers of us who were on those pins, killing those angels.
On 11 August 2009, William Kostric protested President Obama’s town hall meeting in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. He held a sign reading “It is time to water the tree of liberty!”, and legally carried an unconcealed handgun. In the media frenzy (mostly over the weapon) that ensued thereafter, Kostric says he has been struggling to make clear that his sign was not making a direct reference to the entire passage written by Thomas Jefferson in a letter to William S. Smith in 1787. Jefferson’s words were:
The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is a natural manure.
I returned Peter’s stash to its rightful (though dare I say unlawful!) place, and soon enough Peter returned in a similarly criminal manner. I could see in his bloodshot eyes that awful gleam of knowing. Like any good spy, I had returned his rifled-through things to their original places, carefully restacking the most casual of stacks, etc, and though any layman would have been none the wiser, something in those flat eyes knew that I knew that he was a fiend, both horticulturally and demonologically.
Chronic MMO is a degenerative disease that frequently affects students and computer users in general. It can progress into stages that can result in incredibly unsanitary practices and eventually in a state of apparent death to the rest of the world.
The fabled woods of Nor are usually filled with the chirping of birds this time of year. Yet in the clearing near the Tree of Infinite Truths, no creature dare stir. Sitting upon the roots of the aged elm sits the Tree Guardian, a powerful dimension traveler, the wrinkles of his years resembling the sacred bark he rests his back against. Nature itself respects the elder’s meditation.
So one might criticize my reaction to that initial night of sexile, since the blue scrunchie maneuver was something I might have given Peter reason to think was okay. (I hope to god Peter didn’t show that Chinese girl his “blue scrunchie maneuver” if you know what I mean, because what I mean is some kind of sex act).
So I’ve been sharing my room with this guy for a few months. Wanna know how that went? Dope as shit, man, dope as shit. Seriously, this guy is balls awesome, I’d definitely take his cock in my mouth in some mad respect fellatio. Seriously, if he was a chick, I’d superman that ho. Here’s why he’s the shit.
Let’s face it; people are getting lazier all the time. Everyone knows it, especially your grandpa who used to walk to school in the snow every day and blah blah blah derpy derpy doo and so forth. And in no aspect of our lives is this more apparent than in the way we get our food. Observe: